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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/638-0.txt b/638-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..69425fe --- /dev/null +++ b/638-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11271 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Outcast of the Islands, 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: An Outcast of the Islands + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #638] +Last Updated: September 9, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +by Joseph Conrad + + + + + +_Pues el delito mayor Del hombre es haber nacito_ CALDERON + + + +TO EDWARD LANCELOT SANDERSON + + + +AUTHOR’S NOTE + +“An Outcast of the Islands” is my second novel in the absolute sense of +the word; second in conception, second in execution, second as it were +in its essence. There was no hesitation, half-formed plan, vague idea, +or the vaguest reverie of anything else between it and “Almayer’s +Folly.” The only doubt I suffered from, after the publication of +“Almayer’s Folly,” was whether I should write another line for print. +Those days, now grown so dim, had their poignant moments. Neither in +my mind nor in my heart had I then given up the sea. In truth I was +clinging to it desperately, all the more desperately because, against +my will, I could not help feeling that there was something changed in my +relation to it. “Almayer’s Folly,” had been finished and done with. The +mood itself was gone. But it had left the memory of an experience that, +both in thought and emotion was unconnected with the sea, and I suppose +that part of my moral being which is rooted in consistency was badly +shaken. I was a victim of contrary stresses which produced a state of +immobility. I gave myself up to indolence. Since it was impossible for +me to face both ways I had elected to face nothing. The discovery of +new values in life is a very chaotic experience; there is a tremendous +amount of jostling and confusion and a momentary feeling of darkness. I +let my spirit float supine over that chaos. + +A phrase of Edward Garnett’s is, as a matter of fact, responsible for +this book. The first of the friends I made for myself by my pen it +was but natural that he should be the recipient, at that time, of my +confidences. One evening when we had dined together and he had listened +to the account of my perplexities (I fear he must have been growing a +little tired of them) he pointed out that there was no need to determine +my future absolutely. Then he added: “You have the style, you have the +temperament; why not write another?” I believe that as far as one man +may wish to influence another man’s life Edward Garnett had a great +desire that I should go on writing. At that time, and I may say, ever +afterwards, he was always very patient and gentle with me. What strikes +me most however in the phrase quoted above which was offered to me in a +tone of detachment is not its gentleness but its effective wisdom. Had +he said, “Why not go on writing,” it is very probable he would have +scared me away from pen and ink for ever; but there was nothing either +to frighten one or arouse one’s antagonism in the mere suggestion to +“write another.” And thus a dead point in the revolution of my affairs +was insidiously got over. The word “another” did it. At about eleven +o’clock of a nice London night, Edward and I walked along interminable +streets talking of many things, and I remember that on getting home +I sat down and wrote about half a page of “An Outcast of the Islands” + before I slept. This was committing myself definitely, I won’t say to +another life, but to another book. There is apparently something in my +character which will not allow me to abandon for good any piece of work +I have begun. I have laid aside many beginnings. I have laid them aside +with sorrow, with disgust, with rage, with melancholy and even with +self-contempt; but even at the worst I had an uneasy consciousness that +I would have to go back to them. + +“An Outcast of the Islands” belongs to those novels of mine that were +never laid aside; and though it brought me the qualification of “exotic +writer” I don’t think the charge was at all justified. + +For the life of me I don’t see that there is the slightest exotic spirit +in the conception or style of that novel. It is certainly the most +_tropical_ of my eastern tales. The mere scenery got a great hold on +me as I went on, perhaps because (I may just as well confess that) the +story itself was never very near my heart. + +It engaged my imagination much more than my affection. As to my feeling +for Willems it was but the regard one cannot help having for one’s own +creation. Obviously I could not be indifferent to a man on whose head I +had brought so much evil simply by imagining him such as he appears in +the novel--and that, too, on a very slight foundation. + +The man who suggested Willems to me was not particularly interesting in +himself. My interest was aroused by his dependent position, his strange, +dubious status of a mistrusted, disliked, worn-out European living on +the reluctant toleration of that Settlement hidden in the heart of the +forest-land, up that sombre stream which our ship was the only white +men’s ship to visit. With his hollow, clean-shaved cheeks, a heavy grey +moustache and eyes without any expression whatever, clad always in a +spotless sleeping suit much be-frogged in front, which left his lean +neck wholly uncovered, and with his bare feet in a pair of straw +slippers, he wandered silently amongst the houses in daylight, almost as +dumb as an animal and apparently much more homeless. I don’t know +what he did with himself at night. He must have had a place, a hut, +a palm-leaf shed, some sort of hovel where he kept his razor and his +change of sleeping suits. An air of futile mystery hung over him, +something not exactly dark but obviously ugly. The only definite +statement I could extract from anybody was that it was he who had +“brought the Arabs into the river.” That must have happened many years +before. But how did he bring them into the river? He could hardly have +done it in his arms like a lot of kittens. I knew that Almayer founded +the chronology of all his misfortunes on the date of that fateful +advent; and yet the very first time we dined with Almayer there was +Willems sitting at table with us in the manner of the skeleton at the +feast, obviously shunned by everybody, never addressed by any one, and +for all recognition of his existence getting now and then from Almayer +a venomous glance which I observed with great surprise. In the course +of the whole evening he ventured one single remark which I didn’t catch +because his articulation was imperfect, as of a man who had forgotten +how to speak. I was the only person who seemed aware of the sound. +Willems subsided. Presently he retired, pointedly unnoticed--into the +forest maybe? Its immensity was there, within three hundred yards of +the verandah, ready to swallow up anything. Almayer conversing with my +captain did not stop talking while he glared angrily at the retreating +back. Didn’t that fellow bring the Arabs into the river! Nevertheless +Willems turned up next morning on Almayer’s verandah. From the bridge of +the steamer I could see plainly these two, breakfasting together, tete +a tete and, I suppose, in dead silence, one with his air of being no +longer interested in this world and the other raising his eyes now and +then with intense dislike. + +It was clear that in those days Willems lived on Almayer’s charity. Yet +on returning two months later to Sambir I heard that he had gone on an +expedition up the river in charge of a steam-launch belonging to the +Arabs, to make some discovery or other. On account of the strange +reluctance that everyone manifested to talk about Willems it was +impossible for me to get at the rights of that transaction. Moreover, I +was a newcomer, the youngest of the company, and, I suspect, not judged +quite fit as yet for a full confidence. I was not much concerned about +that exclusion. The faint suggestion of plots and mysteries pertaining +to all matters touching Almayer’s affairs amused me vastly. Almayer was +obviously very much affected. I believe he missed Willems immensely. He +wore an air of sinister preoccupation and talked confidentially with +my captain. I could catch only snatches of mumbled sentences. Then one +morning as I came along the deck to take my place at the breakfast table +Almayer checked himself in his low-toned discourse. My captain’s face +was perfectly impenetrable. There was a moment of profound silence and +then as if unable to contain himself Almayer burst out in a loud vicious +tone: + +“One thing’s certain; if he finds anything worth having up there they +will poison him like a dog.” + +Disconnected though it was, that phrase, as food for thought, was +distinctly worth hearing. We left the river three days afterwards and I +never returned to Sambir; but whatever happened to the protagonist of +my Willems nobody can deny that I have recorded for him a less squalid +fate. + +J. C. 1919. + + + + +PART I + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +CHAPTER ONE + +When he stepped off the straight and narrow path of his peculiar +honesty, it was with an inward assertion of unflinching resolve to fall +back again into the monotonous but safe stride of virtue as soon as his +little excursion into the wayside quagmires had produced the desired +effect. It was going to be a short episode--a sentence in brackets, so +to speak--in the flowing tale of his life: a thing of no moment, to be +done unwillingly, yet neatly, and to be quickly forgotten. He imagined +that he could go on afterwards looking at the sunshine, enjoying the +shade, breathing in the perfume of flowers in the small garden before +his house. He fancied that nothing would be changed, that he would be +able as heretofore to tyrannize good-humouredly over his half-caste +wife, to notice with tender contempt his pale yellow child, to patronize +loftily his dark-skinned brother-in-law, who loved pink neckties and +wore patent-leather boots on his little feet, and was so humble before +the white husband of the lucky sister. Those were the delights of his +life, and he was unable to conceive that the moral significance of any +act of his could interfere with the very nature of things, could dim +the light of the sun, could destroy the perfume of the flowers, the +submission of his wife, the smile of his child, the awe-struck respect +of Leonard da Souza and of all the Da Souza family. That family’s +admiration was the great luxury of his life. It rounded and completed +his existence in a perpetual assurance of unquestionable superiority. +He loved to breathe the coarse incense they offered before the shrine of +the successful white man; the man that had done them the honour to marry +their daughter, sister, cousin; the rising man sure to climb very +high; the confidential clerk of Hudig & Co. They were a numerous and an +unclean crowd, living in ruined bamboo houses, surrounded by neglected +compounds, on the outskirts of Macassar. He kept them at arm’s length +and even further off, perhaps, having no illusions as to their worth. +They were a half-caste, lazy lot, and he saw them as they were--ragged, +lean, unwashed, undersized men of various ages, shuffling about +aimlessly in slippers; motionless old women who looked like monstrous +bags of pink calico stuffed with shapeless lumps of fat, and deposited +askew upon decaying rattan chairs in shady corners of dusty verandahs; +young women, slim and yellow, big-eyed, long-haired, moving languidly +amongst the dirt and rubbish of their dwellings as if every step +they took was going to be their very last. He heard their shrill +quarrellings, the squalling of their children, the grunting of their +pigs; he smelt the odours of the heaps of garbage in their courtyards: +and he was greatly disgusted. But he fed and clothed that shabby +multitude; those degenerate descendants of Portuguese conquerors; he was +their providence; he kept them singing his praises in the midst of their +laziness, of their dirt, of their immense and hopeless squalor: and he +was greatly delighted. They wanted much, but he could give them all they +wanted without ruining himself. In exchange he had their silent fear, +their loquacious love, their noisy veneration. It is a fine thing to be +a providence, and to be told so on every day of one’s life. It gives one +a feeling of enormously remote superiority, and Willems revelled in +it. He did not analyze the state of his mind, but probably his greatest +delight lay in the unexpressed but intimate conviction that, should +he close his hand, all those admiring human beings would starve. His +munificence had demoralized them. An easy task. Since he descended +amongst them and married Joanna they had lost the little aptitude and +strength for work they might have had to put forth under the stress of +extreme necessity. They lived now by the grace of his will. This was +power. Willems loved it. In another, and perhaps a lower plane, his days +did not want for their less complex but more obvious pleasures. He liked +the simple games of skill--billiards; also games not so simple, and +calling for quite another kind of skill--poker. He had been the +aptest pupil of a steady-eyed, sententious American, who had drifted +mysteriously into Macassar from the wastes of the Pacific, and, after +knocking about for a time in the eddies of town life, had drifted out +enigmatically into the sunny solitudes of the Indian Ocean. The memory +of the Californian stranger was perpetuated in the game of poker--which +became popular in the capital of Celebes from that time--and in +a powerful cocktail, the recipe for which is transmitted--in the +Kwang-tung dialect--from head boy to head boy of the Chinese servants in +the Sunda Hotel even to this day. Willems was a connoisseur in the drink +and an adept at the game. Of those accomplishments he was moderately +proud. Of the confidence reposed in him by Hudig--the master--he was +boastfully and obtrusively proud. This arose from his great benevolence, +and from an exalted sense of his duty to himself and the world at large. +He experienced that irresistible impulse to impart information which is +inseparable from gross ignorance. There is always some one thing which +the ignorant man knows, and that thing is the only thing worth knowing; +it fills the ignorant man’s universe. Willems knew all about himself. +On the day when, with many misgivings, he ran away from a Dutch +East-Indiaman in Samarang roads, he had commenced that study of +himself, of his own ways, of his own abilities, of those fate-compelling +qualities of his which led him toward that lucrative position which +he now filled. Being of a modest and diffident nature, his successes +amazed, almost frightened him, and ended--as he got over the succeeding +shocks of surprise--by making him ferociously conceited. He believed in +his genius and in his knowledge of the world. Others should know of it +also; for their own good and for his greater glory. All those friendly +men who slapped him on the back and greeted him noisily should have +the benefit of his example. For that he must talk. He talked to them +conscientiously. In the afternoon he expounded his theory of success +over the little tables, dipping now and then his moustache in the +crushed ice of the cocktails; in the evening he would often hold forth, +cue in hand, to a young listener across the billiard table. The billiard +balls stood still as if listening also, under the vivid brilliance of +the shaded oil lamps hung low over the cloth; while away in the shadows +of the big room the Chinaman marker would lean wearily against the +wall, the blank mask of his face looking pale under the mahogany +marking-board; his eyelids dropped in the drowsy fatigue of late hours +and in the buzzing monotony of the unintelligible stream of words poured +out by the white man. In a sudden pause of the talk the game would +recommence with a sharp click and go on for a time in the flowing soft +whirr and the subdued thuds as the balls rolled zig-zagging towards the +inevitably successful cannon. Through the big windows and the open doors +the salt dampness of the sea, the vague smell of mould and flowers from +the garden of the hotel drifted in and mingled with the odour of lamp +oil, growing heavier as the night advanced. The players’ heads dived +into the light as they bent down for the stroke, springing back again +smartly into the greenish gloom of broad lamp-shades; the clock ticked +methodically; the unmoved Chinaman continuously repeated the score in a +lifeless voice, like a big talking doll--and Willems would win the game. +With a remark that it was getting late, and that he was a married man, +he would say a patronizing good-night and step out into the long, +empty street. At that hour its white dust was like a dazzling streak of +moonlight where the eye sought repose in the dimmer gleam of rare oil +lamps. Willems walked homewards, following the line of walls overtopped +by the luxuriant vegetation of the front gardens. The houses right and +left were hidden behind the black masses of flowering shrubs. Willems +had the street to himself. He would walk in the middle, his shadow +gliding obsequiously before him. He looked down on it complacently. +The shadow of a successful man! He would be slightly dizzy with the +cocktails and with the intoxication of his own glory. As he often told +people, he came east fourteen years ago--a cabin boy. A small boy. His +shadow must have been very small at that time; he thought with a smile +that he was not aware then he had anything--even a shadow--which +he dared call his own. And now he was looking at the shadow of the +confidential clerk of Hudig & Co. going home. How glorious! How good +was life for those that were on the winning side! He had won the game +of life; also the game of billiards. He walked faster, jingling his +winnings, and thinking of the white stone days that had marked the path +of his existence. He thought of the trip to Lombok for ponies--that +first important transaction confided to him by Hudig; then he reviewed +the more important affairs: the quiet deal in opium; the illegal traffic +in gunpowder; the great affair of smuggled firearms, the difficult +business of the Rajah of Goak. He carried that last through by sheer +pluck; he had bearded the savage old ruler in his council room; he had +bribed him with a gilt glass coach, which, rumour said, was used as a +hen-coop now; he had over-persuaded him; he had bested him in every way. +That was the way to get on. He disapproved of the elementary dishonesty +that dips the hand in the cash-box, but one could evade the laws and +push the principles of trade to their furthest consequences. Some call +that cheating. Those are the fools, the weak, the contemptible. The +wise, the strong, the respected, have no scruples. Where there are +scruples there can be no power. On that text he preached often to the +young men. It was his doctrine, and he, himself, was a shining example +of its truth. + +Night after night he went home thus, after a day of toil and pleasure, +drunk with the sound of his own voice celebrating his own prosperity. On +his thirtieth birthday he went home thus. He had spent in good company +a nice, noisy evening, and, as he walked along the empty street, the +feeling of his own greatness grew upon him, lifted him above the white +dust of the road, and filled him with exultation and regrets. He had not +done himself justice over there in the hotel, he had not talked enough +about himself, he had not impressed his hearers enough. Never mind. Some +other time. Now he would go home and make his wife get up and listen to +him. Why should she not get up?--and mix a cocktail for him--and listen +patiently. Just so. She shall. If he wanted he could make all the Da +Souza family get up. He had only to say a word and they would all come +and sit silently in their night vestments on the hard, cold ground of +his compound and listen, as long as he wished to go on explaining to +them from the top of the stairs, how great and good he was. They would. +However, his wife would do--for to-night. + +His wife! He winced inwardly. A dismal woman with startled eyes and +dolorously drooping mouth, that would listen to him in pained wonder +and mute stillness. She was used to those night-discourses now. She had +rebelled once--at the beginning. Only once. Now, while he sprawled in +the long chair and drank and talked, she would stand at the further +end of the table, her hands resting on the edge, her frightened eyes +watching his lips, without a sound, without a stir, hardly breathing, +till he dismissed her with a contemptuous: “Go to bed, dummy.” She would +draw a long breath then and trail out of the room, relieved but unmoved. +Nothing could startle her, make her scold or make her cry. She did +not complain, she did not rebel. That first difference of theirs +was decisive. Too decisive, thought Willems, discontentedly. It had +frightened the soul out of her body apparently. A dismal woman! A +damn’d business altogether! What the devil did he want to go and saddle +himself. . . . Ah! Well! he wanted a home, and the match seemed to +please Hudig, and Hudig gave him the bungalow, that flower-bowered house +to which he was wending his way in the cool moonlight. And he had +the worship of the Da Souza tribe. A man of his stamp could carry off +anything, do anything, aspire to anything. In another five years those +white people who attended the Sunday card-parties of the Governor would +accept him--half-caste wife and all! Hooray! He saw his shadow dart +forward and wave a hat, as big as a rum barrel, at the end of an +arm several yards long. . . . Who shouted hooray? . . . He smiled +shamefacedly to himself, and, pushing his hands deep into his pockets, +walked faster with a suddenly grave face. Behind him--to the left--a +cigar end glowed in the gateway of Mr. Vinck’s front yard. Leaning +against one of the brick pillars, Mr. Vinck, the cashier of Hudig & +Co., smoked the last cheroot of the evening. Amongst the shadows of +the trimmed bushes Mrs. Vinck crunched slowly, with measured steps, the +gravel of the circular path before the house. + +“There’s Willems going home on foot--and drunk I fancy,” said Mr. Vinck +over his shoulder. “I saw him jump and wave his hat.” + +The crunching of the gravel stopped. + +“Horrid man,” said Mrs. Vinck, calmly. “I have heard he beats his wife.” + +“Oh no, my dear, no,” muttered absently Mr. Vinck, with a vague gesture. +The aspect of Willems as a wife-beater presented to him no interest. How +women do misjudge! If Willems wanted to torture his wife he would have +recourse to less primitive methods. Mr. Vinck knew Willems well, and +believed him to be very able, very smart--objectionably so. As he took +the last quick draws at the stump of his cheroot, Mr. Vinck reflected +that the confidence accorded by Hudig to Willems was open, under the +circumstances, to loyal criticism from Hudig’s cashier. + +“He is becoming dangerous; he knows too much. He will have to be got rid +of,” said Mr. Vinck aloud. But Mrs. Vinck had gone in already, and after +shaking his head he threw away his cheroot and followed her slowly. + +Willems walked on homeward weaving the splendid web of his future. The +road to greatness lay plainly before his eyes, straight and shining, +without any obstacle that he could see. He had stepped off the path +of honesty, as he understood it, but he would soon regain it, never +to leave it any more! It was a very small matter. He would soon put it +right again. Meantime his duty was not to be found out, and he trusted +in his skill, in his luck, in his well-established reputation that would +disarm suspicion if anybody dared to suspect. But nobody would dare! +True, he was conscious of a slight deterioration. He had appropriated +temporarily some of Hudig’s money. A deplorable necessity. But he judged +himself with the indulgence that should be extended to the weaknesses +of genius. He would make reparation and all would be as before; nobody +would be the loser for it, and he would go on unchecked toward the +brilliant goal of his ambition. + +Hudig’s partner! + +Before going up the steps of his house he stood for awhile, his feet +well apart, chin in hand, contemplating mentally Hudig’s future partner. +A glorious occupation. He saw him quite safe; solid as the hills; +deep--deep as an abyss; discreet as the grave. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +The sea, perhaps because of its saltness, roughens the outside but keeps +sweet the kernel of its servants’ soul. The old sea; the sea of many +years ago, whose servants were devoted slaves and went from youth to age +or to a sudden grave without needing to open the book of life, because +they could look at eternity reflected on the element that gave the life +and dealt the death. Like a beautiful and unscrupulous woman, the sea +of the past was glorious in its smiles, irresistible in its anger, +capricious, enticing, illogical, irresponsible; a thing to love, a thing +to fear. It cast a spell, it gave joy, it lulled gently into boundless +faith; then with quick and causeless anger it killed. But its cruelty +was redeemed by the charm of its inscrutable mystery, by the immensity +of its promise, by the supreme witchery of its possible favour. Strong +men with childlike hearts were faithful to it, were content to live by +its grace--to die by its will. That was the sea before the time when the +French mind set the Egyptian muscle in motion and produced a dismal +but profitable ditch. Then a great pall of smoke sent out by countless +steam-boats was spread over the restless mirror of the Infinite. The +hand of the engineer tore down the veil of the terrible beauty in +order that greedy and faithless landlubbers might pocket dividends. The +mystery was destroyed. Like all mysteries, it lived only in the hearts +of its worshippers. The hearts changed; the men changed. The once loving +and devoted servants went out armed with fire and iron, and conquering +the fear of their own hearts became a calculating crowd of cold and +exacting masters. The sea of the past was an incomparably beautiful +mistress, with inscrutable face, with cruel and promising eyes. The sea +of to-day is a used-up drudge, wrinkled and defaced by the churned-up +wakes of brutal propellers, robbed of the enslaving charm of its +vastness, stripped of its beauty, of its mystery and of its promise. + +Tom Lingard was a master, a lover, a servant of the sea. The sea took +him young, fashioned him body and soul; gave him his fierce aspect, his +loud voice, his fearless eyes, his stupidly guileless heart. Generously +it gave him his absurd faith in himself, his universal love of creation, +his wide indulgence, his contemptuous severity, his straightforward +simplicity of motive and honesty of aim. Having made him what he was, +womanlike, the sea served him humbly and let him bask unharmed in the +sunshine of its terribly uncertain favour. Tom Lingard grew rich on the +sea and by the sea. He loved it with the ardent affection of a lover, +he made light of it with the assurance of perfect mastery, he feared it +with the wise fear of a brave man, and he took liberties with it as a +spoiled child might do with a paternal and good-natured ogre. He was +grateful to it, with the gratitude of an honest heart. His greatest +pride lay in his profound conviction of its faithfulness--in the deep +sense of his unerring knowledge of its treachery. + +The little brig Flash was the instrument of Lingard’s fortune. They came +north together--both young--out of an Australian port, and after a very +few years there was not a white man in the islands, from Palembang to +Ternate, from Ombawa to Palawan, that did not know Captain Tom and +his lucky craft. He was liked for his reckless generosity, for his +unswerving honesty, and at first was a little feared on account of his +violent temper. Very soon, however, they found him out, and the word +went round that Captain Tom’s fury was less dangerous than many a man’s +smile. He prospered greatly. After his first--and successful--fight with +the sea robbers, when he rescued, as rumour had it, the yacht of some +big wig from home, somewhere down Carimata way, his great popularity +began. As years went on it grew apace. Always visiting out-of-the-way +places of that part of the world, always in search of new markets for +his cargoes--not so much for profit as for the pleasure of finding +them--he soon became known to the Malays, and by his successful +recklessness in several encounters with pirates, established the +terror of his name. Those white men with whom he had business, and who +naturally were on the look-out for his weaknesses, could easily see that +it was enough to give him his Malay title to flatter him greatly. So +when there was anything to be gained by it, and sometimes out of pure +and unprofitable good nature, they would drop the ceremonious “Captain +Lingard” and address him half seriously as Rajah Laut--the King of the +Sea. + +He carried the name bravely on his broad shoulders. He had carried it +many years already when the boy Willems ran barefooted on the deck of +the ship Kosmopoliet IV. in Samarang roads, looking with innocent eyes +on the strange shore and objurgating his immediate surroundings with +blasphemous lips, while his childish brain worked upon the heroic idea +of running away. From the poop of the Flash Lingard saw in the early +morning the Dutch ship get lumberingly under weigh, bound for the +eastern ports. Very late in the evening of the same day he stood on the +quay of the landing canal, ready to go on board of his brig. The night +was starry and clear; the little custom-house building was shut up, and +as the gharry that brought him down disappeared up the long avenue of +dusty trees leading to the town, Lingard thought himself alone on the +quay. He roused up his sleeping boat-crew and stood waiting for them to +get ready, when he felt a tug at his coat and a thin voice said, very +distinctly-- + +“English captain.” + +Lingard turned round quickly, and what seemed to be a very lean boy +jumped back with commendable activity. + +“Who are you? Where do you spring from?” asked Lingard, in startled +surprise. + +From a safe distance the boy pointed toward a cargo lighter moored to +the quay. + +“Been hiding there, have you?” said Lingard. “Well, what do you want? +Speak out, confound you. You did not come here to scare me to death, for +fun, did you?” + +The boy tried to explain in imperfect English, but very soon Lingard +interrupted him. + +“I see,” he exclaimed, “you ran away from the big ship that sailed this +morning. Well, why don’t you go to your countrymen here?” + +“Ship gone only a little way--to Sourabaya. Make me go back to the +ship,” explained the boy. + +“Best thing for you,” affirmed Lingard with conviction. + +“No,” retorted the boy; “me want stop here; not want go home. Get money +here; home no good.” + +“This beats all my going a-fishing,” commented the astonished Lingard. +“It’s money you want? Well! well! And you were not afraid to run away, +you bag of bones, you!” + +The boy intimated that he was frightened of nothing but of being sent +back to the ship. Lingard looked at him in meditative silence. + +“Come closer,” he said at last. He took the boy by the chin, and turning +up his face gave him a searching look. “How old are you?” + +“Seventeen.” + +“There’s not much of you for seventeen. Are you hungry?” + +“A little.” + +“Will you come with me, in that brig there?” + +The boy moved without a word towards the boat and scrambled into the +bows. + +“Knows his place,” muttered Lingard to himself as he stepped heavily +into the stern sheets and took up the yoke lines. “Give way there.” + +The Malay boat crew lay back together, and the gig sprang away from the +quay heading towards the brig’s riding light. + +Such was the beginning of Willems’ career. + +Lingard learned in half an hour all that there was of Willems’ +commonplace story. Father outdoor clerk of some ship-broker in +Rotterdam; mother dead. The boy quick in learning, but idle in school. +The straitened circumstances in the house filled with small brothers and +sisters, sufficiently clothed and fed but otherwise running wild, while +the disconsolate widower tramped about all day in a shabby overcoat and +imperfect boots on the muddy quays, and in the evening piloted wearily +the half-intoxicated foreign skippers amongst the places of cheap +delights, returning home late, sick with too much smoking and +drinking--for company’s sake--with these men, who expected such +attentions in the way of business. Then the offer of the good-natured +captain of Kosmopoliet IV., who was pleased to do something for the +patient and obliging fellow; young Willems’ great joy, his still greater +disappointment with the sea that looked so charming from afar, but +proved so hard and exacting on closer acquaintance--and then this +running away by a sudden impulse. The boy was hopelessly at variance +with the spirit of the sea. He had an instinctive contempt for the +honest simplicity of that work which led to nothing he cared for. +Lingard soon found this out. He offered to send him home in an English +ship, but the boy begged hard to be permitted to remain. He wrote a +beautiful hand, became soon perfect in English, was quick at figures; +and Lingard made him useful in that way. As he grew older his trading +instincts developed themselves astonishingly, and Lingard left him +often to trade in one island or another while he, himself, made an +intermediate trip to some out-of-the-way place. On Willems expressing +a wish to that effect, Lingard let him enter Hudig’s service. He felt +a little sore at that abandonment because he had attached himself, in +a way, to his protege. Still he was proud of him, and spoke up for him +loyally. At first it was, “Smart boy that--never make a seaman though.” + Then when Willems was helping in the trading he referred to him as “that +clever young fellow.” Later when Willems became the confidential agent +of Hudig, employed in many a delicate affair, the simple-hearted old +seaman would point an admiring finger at his back and whisper to whoever +stood near at the moment, “Long-headed chap that; deuced long-headed +chap. Look at him. Confidential man of old Hudig. I picked him up in a +ditch, you may say, like a starved cat. Skin and bone. ‘Pon my word I +did. And now he knows more than I do about island trading. Fact. I am +not joking. More than I do,” he would repeat, seriously, with innocent +pride in his honest eyes. + +From the safe elevation of his commercial successes Willems patronized +Lingard. He had a liking for his benefactor, not unmixed with some +disdain for the crude directness of the old fellow’s methods of conduct. +There were, however, certain sides of Lingard’s character for which +Willems felt a qualified respect. The talkative seaman knew how to +be silent on certain matters that to Willems were very interesting. +Besides, Lingard was rich, and that in itself was enough to compel +Willems’ unwilling admiration. In his confidential chats with Hudig, +Willems generally alluded to the benevolent Englishman as the “lucky +old fool” in a very distinct tone of vexation; Hudig would grunt an +unqualified assent, and then the two would look at each other in a +sudden immobility of pupils fixed by a stare of unexpressed thought. + +“You can’t find out where he gets all that india-rubber, hey Willems?” + Hudig would ask at last, turning away and bending over the papers on his +desk. + +“No, Mr. Hudig. Not yet. But I am trying,” was Willems’ invariable +reply, delivered with a ring of regretful deprecation. + +“Try! Always try! You may try! You think yourself clever perhaps,” + rumbled on Hudig, without looking up. “I have been trading with him +twenty--thirty years now. The old fox. And I have tried. Bah!” + +He stretched out a short, podgy leg and contemplated the bare instep and +the grass slipper hanging by the toes. “You can’t make him drunk?” he +would add, after a pause of stertorous breathing. + +“No, Mr. Hudig, I can’t really,” protested Willems, earnestly. + +“Well, don’t try. I know him. Don’t try,” advised the master, and, +bending again over his desk, his staring bloodshot eyes close to the +paper, he would go on tracing laboriously with his thick fingers the +slim unsteady letters of his correspondence, while Willems waited +respectfully for his further good pleasure before asking, with great +deference-- + +“Any orders, Mr. Hudig?” + +“Hm! yes. Go to Bun-Hin yourself and see the dollars of that payment +counted and packed, and have them put on board the mail-boat for +Ternate. She’s due here this afternoon.” + +“Yes, Mr. Hudig.” + +“And, look here. If the boat is late, leave the case in Bun-Hin’s godown +till to-morrow. Seal it up. Eight seals as usual. Don’t take it away +till the boat is here.” + +“No, Mr. Hudig.” + +“And don’t forget about these opium cases. It’s for to-night. Use my own +boatmen. Transship them from the Caroline to the Arab barque,” went +on the master in his hoarse undertone. “And don’t you come to me with +another story of a case dropped overboard like last time,” he added, +with sudden ferocity, looking up at his confidential clerk. + +“No, Mr. Hudig. I will take care.” + +“That’s all. Tell that pig as you go out that if he doesn’t make the +punkah go a little better I will break every bone in his body,” finished +up Hudig, wiping his purple face with a red silk handkerchief nearly as +big as a counterpane. + +Noiselessly Willems went out, shutting carefully behind him the little +green door through which he passed to the warehouse. Hudig, pen in hand, +listened to him bullying the punkah boy with profane violence, born +of unbounded zeal for the master’s comfort, before he returned to his +writing amid the rustling of papers fluttering in the wind sent down by +the punkah that waved in wide sweeps above his head. + +Willems would nod familiarly to Mr. Vinck, who had his desk close to the +little door of the private office, and march down the warehouse with an +important air. Mr. Vinck--extreme dislike lurking in every wrinkle of +his gentlemanly countenance--would follow with his eyes the white figure +flitting in the gloom amongst the piles of bales and cases till it +passed out through the big archway into the glare of the street. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +The opportunity and the temptation were too much for Willems, and under +the pressure of sudden necessity he abused that trust which was his +pride, the perpetual sign of his cleverness and a load too heavy for him +to carry. A run of bad luck at cards, the failure of a small speculation +undertaken on his own account, an unexpected demand for money from one +or another member of the Da Souza family--and almost before he was well +aware of it he was off the path of his peculiar honesty. It was such a +faint and ill-defined track that it took him some time to find out how +far he had strayed amongst the brambles of the dangerous wilderness he +had been skirting for so many years, without any other guide than his +own convenience and that doctrine of success which he had found for +himself in the book of life--in those interesting chapters that the +Devil has been permitted to write in it, to test the sharpness of men’s +eyesight and the steadfastness of their hearts. For one short, dark and +solitary moment he was dismayed, but he had that courage that will not +scale heights, yet will wade bravely through the mud--if there be no +other road. He applied himself to the task of restitution, and devoted +himself to the duty of not being found out. On his thirtieth birthday he +had almost accomplished the task--and the duty had been faithfully and +cleverly performed. He saw himself safe. Again he could look hopefully +towards the goal of his legitimate ambition. Nobody would dare to +suspect him, and in a few days there would be nothing to suspect. He +was elated. He did not know that his prosperity had touched then its +high-water mark, and that the tide was already on the turn. + +Two days afterwards he knew. Mr. Vinck, hearing the rattle of the +door-handle, jumped up from his desk--where he had been tremulously +listening to the loud voices in the private office--and buried his face +in the big safe with nervous haste. For the last time Willems passed +through the little green door leading to Hudig’s sanctum, which, during +the past half-hour, might have been taken--from the fiendish noise +within--for the cavern of some wild beast. Willems’ troubled eyes took +in the quick impression of men and things as he came out from the place +of his humiliation. He saw the scared expression of the punkah boy; the +Chinamen tellers sitting on their heels with unmovable faces turned up +blankly towards him while their arrested hands hovered over the +little piles of bright guilders ranged on the floor; Mr. Vinck’s +shoulder-blades with the fleshy rims of two red ears above. He saw the +long avenue of gin cases stretching from where he stood to the arched +doorway beyond which he would be able to breathe perhaps. A thin rope’s +end lay across his path and he saw it distinctly, yet stumbled heavily +over it as if it had been a bar of iron. Then he found himself in the +street at last, but could not find air enough to fill his lungs. He +walked towards his home, gasping. + +As the sound of Hudig’s insults that lingered in his ears grew fainter +by the lapse of time, the feeling of shame was replaced slowly by a +passion of anger against himself and still more against the stupid +concourse of circumstances that had driven him into his idiotic +indiscretion. Idiotic indiscretion; that is how he defined his guilt +to himself. Could there be anything worse from the point of view of his +undeniable cleverness? What a fatal aberration of an acute mind! He did +not recognize himself there. He must have been mad. That’s it. A sudden +gust of madness. And now the work of long years was destroyed utterly. +What would become of him? + +Before he could answer that question he found himself in the garden +before his house, Hudig’s wedding gift. He looked at it with a vague +surprise to find it there. His past was so utterly gone from him that +the dwelling which belonged to it appeared to him incongruous standing +there intact, neat, and cheerful in the sunshine of the hot afternoon. +The house was a pretty little structure all doors and windows, +surrounded on all sides by the deep verandah supported on slender +columns clothed in the green foliage of creepers, which also fringed the +overhanging eaves of the high-pitched roof. Slowly, Willems mounted the +dozen steps that led to the verandah. He paused at every step. He +must tell his wife. He felt frightened at the prospect, and his alarm +dismayed him. Frightened to face her! Nothing could give him a better +measure of the greatness of the change around him, and in him. Another +man--and another life with the faith in himself gone. He could not be +worth much if he was afraid to face that woman. + +He dared not enter the house through the open door of the dining-room, +but stood irresolute by the little work-table where trailed a white +piece of calico, with a needle stuck in it, as if the work had been left +hurriedly. The pink-crested cockatoo started, on his appearance, into +clumsy activity and began to climb laboriously up and down his perch, +calling “Joanna” with indistinct loudness and a persistent screech +that prolonged the last syllable of the name as if in a peal of insane +laughter. The screen in the doorway moved gently once or twice in the +breeze, and each time Willems started slightly, expecting his wife, but +he never lifted his eyes, although straining his ears for the sound of +her footsteps. Gradually he lost himself in his thoughts, in the endless +speculation as to the manner in which she would receive his news--and +his orders. In this preoccupation he almost forgot the fear of her +presence. No doubt she will cry, she will lament, she will be helpless +and frightened and passive as ever. And he would have to drag that limp +weight on and on through the darkness of a spoiled life. Horrible! +Of course he could not abandon her and the child to certain misery or +possible starvation. The wife and the child of Willems. Willems the +successful, the smart; Willems the conf . . . . Pah! And what was +Willems now? Willems the. . . . He strangled the half-born thought, and +cleared his throat to stifle a groan. Ah! Won’t they talk to-night in +the billiard-room--his world, where he had been first--all those men to +whom he had been so superciliously condescending. Won’t they talk with +surprise, and affected regret, and grave faces, and wise nods. Some of +them owed him money, but he never pressed anybody. Not he. Willems, the +prince of good fellows, they called him. And now they will rejoice, no +doubt, at his downfall. A crowd of imbeciles. In his abasement he was +yet aware of his superiority over those fellows, who were merely honest +or simply not found out yet. A crowd of imbeciles! He shook his fist at +the evoked image of his friends, and the startled parrot fluttered its +wings and shrieked in desperate fright. + +In a short glance upwards Willems saw his wife come round the corner of +the house. He lowered his eyelids quickly, and waited silently till she +came near and stood on the other side of the little table. He would +not look at her face, but he could see the red dressing-gown he knew so +well. She trailed through life in that red dressing-gown, with its row +of dirty blue bows down the front, stained, and hooked on awry; a torn +flounce at the bottom following her like a snake as she moved languidly +about, with her hair negligently caught up, and a tangled wisp +straggling untidily down her back. His gaze travelled upwards from bow +to bow, noticing those that hung only by a thread, but it did not +go beyond her chin. He looked at her lean throat, at the obtrusive +collarbone visible in the disarray of the upper part of her attire. He +saw the thin arm and the bony hand clasping the child she carried, +and he felt an immense distaste for those encumbrances of his life. He +waited for her to say something, but as he felt her eyes rest on him in +unbroken silence he sighed and began to speak. + +It was a hard task. He spoke slowly, lingering amongst the memories of +this early life in his reluctance to confess that this was the end of +it and the beginning of a less splendid existence. In his conviction of +having made her happiness in the full satisfaction of all material wants +he never doubted for a moment that she was ready to keep him company +on no matter how hard and stony a road. He was not elated by this +certitude. He had married her to please Hudig, and the greatness of his +sacrifice ought to have made her happy without any further exertion on +his part. She had years of glory as Willems’ wife, and years of comfort, +of loyal care, and of such tenderness as she deserved. He had guarded +her carefully from any bodily hurt; and of any other suffering he had +no conception. The assertion of his superiority was only another benefit +conferred on her. All this was a matter of course, but he told her all +this so as to bring vividly before her the greatness of her loss. She +was so dull of understanding that she would not grasp it else. And now +it was at an end. They would have to go. Leave this house, leave +this island, go far away where he was unknown. To the English +Strait-Settlements perhaps. He would find an opening there for his +abilities--and juster men to deal with than old Hudig. He laughed +bitterly. + +“You have the money I left at home this morning, Joanna?” he asked. “We +will want it all now.” + +As he spoke those words he thought he was a fine fellow. Nothing new +that. Still, he surpassed there his own expectations. Hang it all, there +are sacred things in life, after all. The marriage tie was one of them, +and he was not the man to break it. The solidity of his principles +caused him great satisfaction, but he did not care to look at his wife, +for all that. He waited for her to speak. Then he would have to console +her; tell her not to be a crying fool; to get ready to go. Go where? +How? When? He shook his head. They must leave at once; that was the +principal thing. He felt a sudden need to hurry up his departure. + +“Well, Joanna,” he said, a little impatiently---“don’t stand there in a +trance. Do you hear? We must. . . .” + +He looked up at his wife, and whatever he was going to add remained +unspoken. She was staring at him with her big, slanting eyes, that +seemed to him twice their natural size. The child, its dirty little +face pressed to its mother’s shoulder, was sleeping peacefully. The deep +silence of the house was not broken, but rather accentuated, by the +low mutter of the cockatoo, now very still on its perch. As Willems was +looking at Joanna her upper lip was drawn up on one side, giving to her +melancholy face a vicious expression altogether new to his experience. +He stepped back in his surprise. + +“Oh! You great man!” she said distinctly, but in a voice that was hardly +above a whisper. + +Those words, and still more her tone, stunned him as if somebody had +fired a gun close to his ear. He stared back at her stupidly. + +“Oh! you great man!” she repeated slowly, glancing right and left as +if meditating a sudden escape. “And you think that I am going to starve +with you. You are nobody now. You think my mamma and Leonard would let +me go away? And with you! With you,” she repeated scornfully, raising +her voice, which woke up the child and caused it to whimper feebly. + +“Joanna!” exclaimed Willems. + +“Do not speak to me. I have heard what I have waited for all these +years. You are less than dirt, you that have wiped your feet on me. I +have waited for this. I am not afraid now. I do not want you; do not +come near me. Ah-h!” she screamed shrilly, as he held out his hand in an +entreating gesture--“Ah! Keep off me! Keep off me! Keep off!” + +She backed away, looking at him with eyes both angry and frightened. +Willems stared motionless, in dumb amazement at the mystery of anger and +revolt in the head of his wife. Why? What had he ever done to her? This +was the day of injustice indeed. First Hudig--and now his wife. He felt +a terror at this hate that had lived stealthily so near him for years. +He tried to speak, but she shrieked again, and it was like a needle +through his heart. Again he raised his hand. + +“Help!” called Mrs. Willems, in a piercing voice. “Help!” + +“Be quiet! You fool!” shouted Willems, trying to drown the noise of +his wife and child in his own angry accents and rattling violently the +little zinc table in his exasperation. + +From under the house, where there were bathrooms and a tool closet, +appeared Leonard, a rusty iron bar in his hand. He called threateningly +from the bottom of the stairs. + +“Do not hurt her, Mr. Willems. You are a savage. Not at all like we, +whites.” + +“You too!” said the bewildered Willems. “I haven’t touched her. Is this +a madhouse?” He moved towards the stairs, and Leonard dropped the bar +with a clang and made for the gate of the compound. Willems turned back +to his wife. + +“So you expected this,” he said. “It is a conspiracy. Who’s that sobbing +and groaning in the room? Some more of your precious family. Hey?” + +She was more calm now, and putting hastily the crying child in the big +chair walked towards him with sudden fearlessness. + +“My mother,” she said, “my mother who came to defend me from you--man +from nowhere; a vagabond!” + +“You did not call me a vagabond when you hung round my neck--before we +were married,” said Willems, contemptuously. + +“You took good care that I should not hang round your neck after we +were,” she answered, clenching her hands, and putting her face close to +his. “You boasted while I suffered and said nothing. What has become of +your greatness; of our greatness--you were always speaking about? Now +I am going to live on the charity of your master. Yes. That is true. He +sent Leonard to tell me so. And you will go and boast somewhere else, +and starve. So! Ah! I can breathe now! This house is mine.” + +“Enough!” said Willems, slowly, with an arresting gesture. + +She leaped back, the fright again in her eyes, snatched up the child, +pressed it to her breast, and, falling into a chair, drummed insanely +with her heels on the resounding floor of the verandah. + +“I shall go,” said Willems, steadily. “I thank you. For the first time +in your life you make me happy. You were a stone round my neck; you +understand. I did not mean to tell you that as long as you lived, but +you made me--now. Before I pass this gate you shall be gone from my +mind. You made it very easy. I thank you.” + +He turned and went down the steps without giving her a glance, while she +sat upright and quiet, with wide-open eyes, the child crying querulously +in her arms. At the gate he came suddenly upon Leonard, who had been +dodging about there and failed to get out of the way in time. + +“Do not be brutal, Mr. Willems,” said Leonard, hurriedly. “It is +unbecoming between white men with all those natives looking on.” + Leonard’s legs trembled very much, and his voice wavered between high +and low tones without any attempt at control on his part. “Restrain your +improper violence,” he went on mumbling rapidly. “I am a respectable man +of very good family, while you . . . it is regrettable . . . they all +say so . . .” + +“What?” thundered Willems. He felt a sudden impulse of mad anger, and +before he knew what had happened he was looking at Leonard da Souza +rolling in the dust at his feet. He stepped over his prostrate +brother-in-law and tore blindly down the street, everybody making way +for the frantic white man. + +When he came to himself he was beyond the outskirts of the town, +stumbling on the hard and cracked earth of reaped rice fields. How did +he get there? It was dark. He must get back. As he walked towards the +town slowly, his mind reviewed the events of the day and he felt a sense +of bitter loneliness. His wife had turned him out of his own house. +He had assaulted brutally his brother-in-law, a member of the Da Souza +family--of that band of his worshippers. He did. Well, no! It was some +other man. Another man was coming back. A man without a past, without +a future, yet full of pain and shame and anger. He stopped and looked +round. A dog or two glided across the empty street and rushed past him +with a frightened snarl. He was now in the midst of the Malay quarter +whose bamboo houses, hidden in the verdure of their little gardens, were +dark and silent. Men, women and children slept in there. Human beings. +Would he ever sleep, and where? He felt as if he was the outcast of all +mankind, and as he looked hopelessly round, before resuming his weary +march, it seemed to him that the world was bigger, the night more vast +and more black; but he went on doggedly with his head down as if pushing +his way through some thick brambles. Then suddenly he felt planks under +his feet and, looking up, saw the red light at the end of the jetty. He +walked quite to the end and stood leaning against the post, under the +lamp, looking at the roadstead where two vessels at anchor swayed their +slender rigging amongst the stars. The end of the jetty; and here in one +step more the end of life; the end of everything. Better so. What else +could he do? Nothing ever comes back. He saw it clearly. The respect +and admiration of them all, the old habits and old affections finished +abruptly in the clear perception of the cause of his disgrace. He +saw all this; and for a time he came out of himself, out of his +selfishness--out of the constant preoccupation of his interests and his +desires--out of the temple of self and the concentration of personal +thought. + +His thoughts now wandered home. Standing in the tepid stillness of a +starry tropical night he felt the breath of the bitter east wind, he saw +the high and narrow fronts of tall houses under the gloom of a clouded +sky; and on muddy quays he saw the shabby, high-shouldered figure--the +patient, faded face of the weary man earning bread for the children +that waited for him in a dingy home. It was miserable, miserable. But it +would never come back. What was there in common between those things and +Willems the clever, Willems the successful. He had cut himself adrift +from that home many years ago. Better for him then. Better for them now. +All this was gone, never to come back again; and suddenly he shivered, +seeing himself alone in the presence of unknown and terrible dangers. + +For the first time in his life he felt afraid of the future, because he +had lost his faith, the faith in his own success. And he had destroyed +it foolishly with his own hands! + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +His meditation which resembled slow drifting into suicide was +interrupted by Lingard, who, with a loud “I’ve got you at last!” dropped +his hand heavily on Willems’ shoulder. This time it was the old seaman +himself going out of his way to pick up the uninteresting waif--all +that there was left of that sudden and sordid shipwreck. To Willems, +the rough, friendly voice was a quick and fleeting relief followed by a +sharper pang of anger and unavailing regret. That voice carried him +back to the beginning of his promising career, the end of which was very +visible now from the jetty where they both stood. He shook himself free +from the friendly grasp, saying with ready bitterness-- + +“It’s all your fault. Give me a push now, do, and send me over. I have +been standing here waiting for help. You are the man--of all men. You +helped at the beginning; you ought to have a hand in the end.” + +“I have better use for you than to throw you to the fishes,” said +Lingard, seriously, taking Willems by the arm and forcing him gently to +walk up the jetty. “I have been buzzing over this town like a bluebottle +fly, looking for you high and low. I have heard a lot. I will tell you +what, Willems; you are no saint, that’s a fact. And you have not been +over-wise either. I am not throwing stones,” he added, hastily, as +Willems made an effort to get away, “but I am not going to mince +matters. Never could! You keep quiet while I talk. Can’t you?” + +With a gesture of resignation and a half-stifled groan Willems submitted +to the stronger will, and the two men paced slowly up and down the +resounding planks, while Lingard disclosed to Willems the exact manner +of his undoing. After the first shock Willems lost the faculty of +surprise in the over-powering feeling of indignation. So it was Vinck +and Leonard who had served him so. They had watched him, tracked his +misdeeds, reported them to Hudig. They had bribed obscure Chinamen, +wormed out confidences from tipsy skippers, got at various boatmen, +and had pieced out in that way the story of his irregularities. The +blackness of this dark intrigue filled him with horror. He could +understand Vinck. There was no love lost between them. But Leonard! +Leonard! + +“Why, Captain Lingard,” he burst out, “the fellow licked my boots.” + +“Yes, yes, yes,” said Lingard, testily, “we know that, and you did your +best to cram your boot down his throat. No man likes that, my boy.” + +“I was always giving money to all that hungry lot,” went on Willems, +passionately. “Always my hand in my pocket. They never had to ask +twice.” + +“Just so. Your generosity frightened them. They asked themselves +where all that came from, and concluded that it was safer to throw you +overboard. After all, Hudig is a much greater man than you, my friend, +and they have a claim on him also.” + +“What do you mean, Captain Lingard?” + +“What do I mean?” repeated Lingard, slowly. “Why, you are not going to +make me believe you did not know your wife was Hudig’s daughter. Come +now!” + +Willems stopped suddenly and swayed about. + +“Ah! I understand,” he gasped. “I never heard . . . Lately I thought +there was . . . But no, I never guessed.” + +“Oh, you simpleton!” said Lingard, pityingly. “‘Pon my word,” he +muttered to himself, “I don’t believe the fellow knew. Well! well! +Steady now. Pull yourself together. What’s wrong there. She is a good +wife to you.” + +“Excellent wife,” said Willems, in a dreary voice, looking far over the +black and scintillating water. + +“Very well then,” went on Lingard, with increasing friendliness. +“Nothing wrong there. But did you really think that Hudig was marrying +you off and giving you a house and I don’t know what, out of love for +you?” + +“I had served him well,” answered Willems. “How well, you know +yourself--through thick and thin. No matter what work and what risk, I +was always there; always ready.” + +How well he saw the greatness of his work and the immensity of that +injustice which was his reward. She was that man’s daughter! + +In the light of this disclosure the facts of the last five years of his +life stood clearly revealed in their full meaning. He had spoken first +to Joanna at the gate of their dwelling as he went to his work in +the brilliant flush of the early morning, when women and flowers are +charming even to the dullest eyes. A most respectable family--two women +and a young man--were his next-door neighbours. Nobody ever came to +their little house but the priest, a native from the Spanish islands, +now and then. The young man Leonard he had met in town, and was +flattered by the little fellow’s immense respect for the great Willems. +He let him bring chairs, call the waiters, chalk his cues when playing +billiards, express his admiration in choice words. He even condescended +to listen patiently to Leonard’s allusions to “our beloved father,” a +man of official position, a government agent in Koti, where he died of +cholera, alas! a victim to duty, like a good Catholic, and a good man. +It sounded very respectable, and Willems approved of those feeling +references. Moreover, he prided himself upon having no colour-prejudices +and no racial antipathies. He consented to drink curacoa one afternoon +on the verandah of Mrs. da Souza’s house. He remembered Joanna that day, +swinging in a hammock. She was untidy even then, he remembered, and that +was the only impression he carried away from that visit. He had no time +for love in those glorious days, no time even for a passing fancy, but +gradually he fell into the habit of calling almost every day at that +little house where he was greeted by Mrs. da Souza’s shrill voice +screaming for Joanna to come and entertain the gentleman from Hudig +& Co. And then the sudden and unexpected visit of the priest. He +remembered the man’s flat, yellow face, his thin legs, his propitiatory +smile, his beaming black eyes, his conciliating manner, his veiled hints +which he did not understand at the time. How he wondered what the man +wanted, and how unceremoniously he got rid of him. And then came vividly +into his recollection the morning when he met again that fellow coming +out of Hudig’s office, and how he was amused at the incongruous visit. +And that morning with Hudig! Would he ever forget it? Would he ever +forget his surprise as the master, instead of plunging at once into +business, looked at him thoughtfully before turning, with a furtive +smile, to the papers on the desk? He could hear him now, his nose in the +paper before him, dropping astonishing words in the intervals of wheezy +breathing. + +“Heard said . . . called there often . . . most respectable ladies . . . +knew the father very well . . . estimable . . . best thing for a young +man . . . settle down. . . . Personally, very glad to hear . . . thing +arranged. . . . Suitable recognition of valuable services. . . . Best +thing--best thing to do.” + +And he believed! What credulity! What an ass! Hudig knew the father! +Rather. And so did everybody else probably; all except himself. How +proud he had been of Hudig’s benevolent interest in his fate! How proud +he was when invited by Hudig to stay with him at his little house in the +country--where he could meet men, men of official position--as a friend. +Vinck had been green with envy. Oh, yes! He had believed in the best +thing, and took the girl like a gift of fortune. How he boasted to Hudig +of being free from prejudices. The old scoundrel must have been laughing +in his sleeve at his fool of a confidential clerk. He took the girl, +guessing nothing. How could he? There had been a father of some kind +to the common knowledge. Men knew him; spoke about him. A lank man of +hopelessly mixed descent, but otherwise--apparently--unobjectionable. +The shady relations came out afterward, but--with his freedom from +prejudices--he did not mind them, because, with their humble dependence, +they completed his triumphant life. Taken in! taken in! Hudig had found +an easy way to provide for the begging crowd. He had shifted the burden +of his youthful vagaries on to the shoulders of his confidential clerk; +and while he worked for the master, the master had cheated him; had +stolen his very self from him. He was married. He belonged to that +woman, no matter what she might do! . . . Had sworn . . . for all life! +. . . Thrown himself away. . . . And that man dared this very morning +call him a thief! Damnation! + +“Let go, Lingard!” he shouted, trying to get away by a sudden jerk from +the watchful old seaman. “Let me go and kill that . . .” + +“No you don’t!” panted Lingard, hanging on manfully. “You want to kill, +do you? You lunatic. Ah!--I’ve got you now! Be quiet, I say!” + +They struggled violently, Lingard forcing Willems slowly towards the +guard-rail. Under their feet the jetty sounded like a drum in the quiet +night. On the shore end the native caretaker of the wharf watched the +combat, squatting behind the safe shelter of some big cases. The next +day he informed his friends, with calm satisfaction, that two drunken +white men had fought on the jetty. + +It had been a great fight. They fought without arms, like wild beasts, +after the manner of white men. No! nobody was killed, or there would +have been trouble and a report to make. How could he know why they +fought? White men have no reason when they are like that. + +Just as Lingard was beginning to fear that he would be unable to +restrain much longer the violence of the younger man, he felt Willems’ +muscles relaxing, and took advantage of this opportunity to pin him, by +a last effort, to the rail. They both panted heavily, speechless, their +faces very close. + +“All right,” muttered Willems at last. “Don’t break my back over this +infernal rail. I will be quiet.” + +“Now you are reasonable,” said Lingard, much relieved. “What made you +fly into that passion?” he asked, leading him back to the end of the +jetty, and, still holding him prudently with one hand, he fumbled with +the other for his whistle and blew a shrill and prolonged blast. Over +the smooth water of the roadstead came in answer a faint cry from one of +the ships at anchor. + +“My boat will be here directly,” said Lingard. “Think of what you are +going to do. I sail to-night.” + +“What is there for me to do, except one thing?” said Willems, gloomily. + +“Look here,” said Lingard; “I picked you up as a boy, and consider +myself responsible for you in a way. You took your life into your own +hands many years ago--but still . . .” + +He paused, listening, till he heard the regular grind of the oars in the +rowlocks of the approaching boat then went on again. + +“I have made it all right with Hudig. You owe him nothing now. Go back +to your wife. She is a good woman. Go back to her.” + +“Why, Captain Lingard,” exclaimed Willems, “she . . .” + +“It was most affecting,” went on Lingard, without heeding him. “I +went to your house to look for you and there I saw her despair. It was +heart-breaking. She called for you; she entreated me to find you. She +spoke wildly, poor woman, as if all this was her fault.” + +Willems listened amazed. The blind old idiot! How queerly he +misunderstood! But if it was true, if it was even true, the very idea of +seeing her filled his soul with intense loathing. He did not break +his oath, but he would not go back to her. Let hers be the sin of that +separation; of the sacred bond broken. He revelled in the extreme purity +of his heart, and he would not go back to her. Let her come back to him. +He had the comfortable conviction that he would never see her again, +and that through her own fault only. In this conviction he told himself +solemnly that if she would come to him he would receive her with +generous forgiveness, because such was the praiseworthy solidity of his +principles. But he hesitated whether he would or would not disclose to +Lingard the revolting completeness of his humiliation. Turned out of his +house--and by his wife; that woman who hardly dared to breathe in his +presence, yesterday. He remained perplexed and silent. No. He lacked the +courage to tell the ignoble story. + +As the boat of the brig appeared suddenly on the black water close to +the jetty, Lingard broke the painful silence. + +“I always thought,” he said, sadly, “I always thought you were somewhat +heartless, Willems, and apt to cast adrift those that thought most of +you. I appeal to what is best in you; do not abandon that woman.” + +“I have not abandoned her,” answered Willems, quickly, with conscious +truthfulness. “Why should I? As you so justly observed, she has been a +good wife to me. A very good, quiet, obedient, loving wife, and I love +her as much as she loves me. Every bit. But as to going back now, to +that place where I . . . To walk again amongst those men who yesterday +were ready to crawl before me, and then feel on my back the sting of +their pitying or satisfied smiles--no! I can’t. I would rather hide from +them at the bottom of the sea,” he went on, with resolute energy. “I +don’t think, Captain Lingard,” he added, more quietly, “I don’t think +that you realize what my position was there.” + +In a wide sweep of his hand he took in the sleeping shore from north to +south, as if wishing it a proud and threatening good-bye. For a short +moment he forgot his downfall in the recollection of his brilliant +triumphs. Amongst the men of his class and occupation who slept in those +dark houses he had been indeed the first. + +“It is hard,” muttered Lingard, pensively. “But whose the fault? Whose +the fault?” + +“Captain Lingard!” cried Willems, under the sudden impulse of a +felicitous inspiration, “if you leave me here on this jetty--it’s +murder. I shall never return to that place alive, wife or no wife. You +may just as well cut my throat at once.” + +The old seaman started. + +“Don’t try to frighten me, Willems,” he said, with great severity, and +paused. + +Above the accents of Willems’ brazen despair he heard, with considerable +uneasiness, the whisper of his own absurd conscience. He meditated for +awhile with an irresolute air. + +“I could tell you to go and drown yourself, and be damned to you,” he +said, with an unsuccessful assumption of brutality in his manner, “but +I won’t. We are responsible for one another--worse luck. I am almost +ashamed of myself, but I can understand your dirty pride. I can! +By . . .” + +He broke off with a loud sigh and walked briskly to the steps, at the +bottom of which lay his boat, rising and falling gently on the slight +and invisible swell. + +“Below there! Got a lamp in the boat? Well, light it and bring it up, +one of you. Hurry now!” + +He tore out a page of his pocketbook, moistened his pencil with great +energy and waited, stamping his feet impatiently. + +“I will see this thing through,” he muttered to himself. “And I will +have it all square and ship-shape; see if I don’t! Are you going to +bring that lamp, you son of a crippled mud-turtle? I am waiting.” + +The gleam of the light on the paper placated his professional anger, and +he wrote rapidly, the final dash of his signature curling the paper up +in a triangular tear. + +“Take that to this white Tuan’s house. I will send the boat back for you +in half an hour.” + +The coxswain raised his lamp deliberately to Willem’s face. + +“This Tuan? Tau! I know.” + +“Quick then!” said Lingard, taking the lamp from him--and the man went +off at a run. + +“Kassi mem! To the lady herself,” called Lingard after him. + +Then, when the man disappeared, he turned to Willems. + +“I have written to your wife,” he said. “If you do not return for good, +you do not go back to that house only for another parting. You must come +as you stand. I won’t have that poor woman tormented. I will see to it +that you are not separated for long. Trust me!” + +Willems shivered, then smiled in the darkness. + +“No fear of that,” he muttered, enigmatically. “I trust you implicitly, +Captain Lingard,” he added, in a louder tone. + +Lingard led the way down the steps, swinging the lamp and speaking over +his shoulder. + +“It is the second time, Willems, I take you in hand. Mind it is the +last. The second time; and the only difference between then and now is +that you were bare-footed then and have boots now. In fourteen years. +With all your smartness! A poor result that. A very poor result.” + +He stood for awhile on the lowest platform of the steps, the light of +the lamp falling on the upturned face of the stroke oar, who held the +gunwale of the boat close alongside, ready for the captain to step in. + +“You see,” he went on, argumentatively, fumbling about the top of +the lamp, “you got yourself so crooked amongst those ‘longshore +quill-drivers that you could not run clear in any way. That’s what comes +of such talk as yours, and of such a life. A man sees so much falsehood +that he begins to lie to himself. Pah!” he said, in disgust, “there’s +only one place for an honest man. The sea, my boy, the sea! But you +never would; didn’t think there was enough money in it; and now--look!” + +He blew the light out, and, stepping into the boat, stretched quickly +his hand towards Willems, with friendly care. Willems sat by him in +silence, and the boat shoved off, sweeping in a wide circle towards the +brig. + +“Your compassion is all for my wife, Captain Lingard,” said Willems, +moodily. “Do you think I am so very happy?” + +“No! no!” said Lingard, heartily. “Not a word more shall pass my lips. +I had to speak my mind once, seeing that I knew you from a child, so +to speak. And now I shall forget; but you are young yet. Life is very +long,” he went on, with unconscious sadness; “let this be a lesson to +you.” + +He laid his hand affectionately on Willems’ shoulder, and they both sat +silent till the boat came alongside the ship’s ladder. + +When on board Lingard gave orders to his mate, and leading Willems on +the poop, sat on the breech of one of the brass six-pounders with +which his vessel was armed. The boat went off again to bring back the +messenger. As soon as it was seen returning dark forms appeared on the +brig’s spars; then the sails fell in festoons with a swish of their +heavy folds, and hung motionless under the yards in the dead calm of +the clear and dewy night. From the forward end came the clink of the +windlass, and soon afterwards the hail of the chief mate informing +Lingard that the cable was hove short. + +“Hold on everything,” hailed back Lingard; “we must wait for the +land-breeze before we let go our hold of the ground.” + +He approached Willems, who sat on the skylight, his body bent down, his +head low, and his hands hanging listlessly between his knees. + +“I am going to take you to Sambir,” he said. “You’ve never heard of the +place, have you? Well, it’s up that river of mine about which people +talk so much and know so little. I’ve found out the entrance for a ship +of Flash’s size. It isn’t easy. You’ll see. I will show you. You have +been at sea long enough to take an interest. . . . Pity you didn’t stick +to it. Well, I am going there. I have my own trading post in the place. +Almayer is my partner. You knew him when he was at Hudig’s. Oh, he lives +there as happy as a king. D’ye see, I have them all in my pocket. The +rajah is an old friend of mine. My word is law--and I am the only +trader. No other white man but Almayer had ever been in that settlement. +You will live quietly there till I come back from my next cruise to the +westward. We shall see then what can be done for you. Never fear. I have +no doubt my secret will be safe with you. Keep mum about my river when +you get amongst the traders again. There’s many would give their ears +for the knowledge of it. I’ll tell you something: that’s where I get all +my guttah and rattans. Simply inexhaustible, my boy.” + +While Lingard spoke Willems looked up quickly, but soon his head fell on +his breast in the discouraging certitude that the knowledge he and Hudig +had wished for so much had come to him too late. He sat in a listless +attitude. + +“You will help Almayer in his trading if you have a heart for it,” + continued Lingard, “just to kill time till I come back for you. Only six +weeks or so.” + +Over their heads the damp sails fluttered noisily in the first faint +puff of the breeze; then, as the airs freshened, the brig tended to the +wind, and the silenced canvas lay quietly aback. The mate spoke with low +distinctness from the shadows of the quarter-deck. + +“There’s the breeze. Which way do you want to cast her, Captain +Lingard?” + +Lingard’s eyes, that had been fixed aloft, glanced down at the dejected +figure of the man sitting on the skylight. He seemed to hesitate for a +minute. + +“To the northward, to the northward,” he answered, testily, as if +annoyed at his own fleeting thought, “and bear a hand there. Every puff +of wind is worth money in these seas.” + +He remained motionless, listening to the rattle of blocks and the +creaking of trusses as the head-yards were hauled round. Sail was made +on the ship and the windlass manned again while he stood still, lost in +thought. He only roused himself when a barefooted seacannie glided past +him silently on his way to the wheel. + +“Put the helm aport! Hard over!” he said, in his harsh sea-voice, to the +man whose face appeared suddenly out of the darkness in the circle of +light thrown upwards from the binnacle lamps. + +The anchor was secured, the yards trimmed, and the brig began to move +out of the roadstead. The sea woke up under the push of the sharp +cutwater, and whispered softly to the gliding craft in that tender and +rippling murmur in which it speaks sometimes to those it nurses and +loves. Lingard stood by the taff-rail listening, with a pleased smile +till the Flash began to draw close to the only other vessel in the +anchorage. + +“Here, Willems,” he said, calling him to his side, “d’ye see that barque +here? That’s an Arab vessel. White men have mostly given up the game, +but this fellow drops in my wake often, and lives in hopes of cutting me +out in that settlement. Not while I live, I trust. You see, Willems, +I brought prosperity to that place. I composed their quarrels, and saw +them grow under my eyes. There’s peace and happiness there. I am more +master there than his Dutch Excellency down in Batavia ever will be when +some day a lazy man-of-war blunders at last against the river. I mean to +keep the Arabs out of it, with their lies and their intrigues. I shall +keep the venomous breed out, if it costs me my fortune.” + +The Flash drew quietly abreast of the barque, and was beginning to drop +it astern when a white figure started up on the poop of the Arab vessel, +and a voice called out-- + +“Greeting to the Rajah Laut!” + +“To you greeting!” answered Lingard, after a moment of hesitating +surprise. Then he turned to Willems with a grim smile. “That’s Abdulla’s +voice,” he said. “Mighty civil all of a sudden, isn’t he? I wonder +what it means. Just like his impudence! No matter! His civility or his +impudence are all one to me. I know that this fellow will be under way +and after me like a shot. I don’t care! I have the heels of anything +that floats in these seas,” he added, while his proud and loving glance +ran over and rested fondly amongst the brig’s lofty and graceful spars. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +“It was the writing on his forehead,” said Babalatchi, adding a couple +of small sticks to the little fire by which he was squatting, and +without looking at Lakamba who lay down supported on his elbow on the +other side of the embers. “It was written when he was born that he +should end his life in darkness, and now he is like a man walking in a +black night--with his eyes open, yet seeing not. I knew him well when he +had slaves, and many wives, and much merchandise, and trading praus, and +praus for fighting. Hai--ya! He was a great fighter in the days before +the breath of the Merciful put out the light in his eyes. He was a +pilgrim, and had many virtues: he was brave, his hand was open, and he +was a great robber. For many years he led the men that drank blood on +the sea: first in prayer and first in fight! Have I not stood behind +him when his face was turned to the West? Have I not watched by his side +ships with high masts burning in a straight flame on the calm water? +Have I not followed him on dark nights amongst sleeping men that woke up +only to die? His sword was swifter than the fire from Heaven, and struck +before it flashed. Hai! Tuan! Those were the days and that was a leader, +and I myself was younger; and in those days there were not so many +fireships with guns that deal fiery death from afar. Over the hill and +over the forest--O! Tuan Lakamba! they dropped whistling fireballs into +the creek where our praus took refuge, and where they dared not follow +men who had arms in their hands.” + +He shook his head with mournful regret and threw another handful of +fuel on the fire. The burst of clear flame lit up his broad, dark, and +pock-marked face, where the big lips, stained with betel-juice, looked +like a deep and bleeding gash of a fresh wound. The reflection of the +firelight gleamed brightly in his solitary eye, lending it for a moment +a fierce animation that died out together with the short-lived flame. +With quick touches of his bare hands he raked the embers into a heap, +then, wiping the warm ash on his waistcloth--his only garment--he +clasped his thin legs with his entwined fingers, and rested his chin +on his drawn-up knees. Lakamba stirred slightly without changing his +position or taking his eyes off the glowing coals, on which they had +been fixed in dreamy immobility. + +“Yes,” went on Babalatchi, in a low monotone, as if pursuing aloud a +train of thought that had its beginning in the silent contemplation of +the unstable nature of earthly greatness--“yes. He has been rich and +strong, and now he lives on alms: old, feeble, blind, and without +companions, but for his daughter. The Rajah Patalolo gives him rice, and +the pale woman--his daughter--cooks it for him, for he has no slave.” + +“I saw her from afar,” muttered Lakamba, disparagingly. “A she-dog with +white teeth, like a woman of the Orang-Putih.” + +“Right, right,” assented Babalatchi; “but you have not seen her near. +Her mother was a woman from the west; a Baghdadi woman with veiled face. +Now she goes uncovered, like our women do, for she is poor and he is +blind, and nobody ever comes near them unless to ask for a charm or a +blessing and depart quickly for fear of his anger and of the Rajah’s +hand. You have not been on that side of the river?” + +“Not for a long time. If I go . . .” + +“True! true!” interrupted Babalatchi, soothingly, “but I go often +alone--for your good--and look--and listen. When the time comes; when we +both go together towards the Rajah’s campong, it will be to enter--and +to remain.” + +Lakamba sat up and looked at Babalatchi gloomily. + +“This is good talk, once, twice; when it is heard too often it becomes +foolish, like the prattle of children.” + +“Many, many times have I seen the cloudy sky and have heard the wind of +the rainy seasons,” said Babalatchi, impressively. + +“And where is your wisdom? It must be with the wind and the clouds of +seasons past, for I do not hear it in your talk.” + +“Those are the words of the ungrateful!” shouted Babalatchi, with sudden +exasperation. “Verily, our only refuge is with the One, the Mighty, the +Redresser of . . .” + +“Peace! Peace!” growled the startled Lakamba. “It is but a friend’s +talk.” + +Babalatchi subsided into his former attitude, muttering to himself. +After awhile he went on again in a louder voice-- + +“Since the Rajah Laut left another white man here in Sambir, the +daughter of the blind Omar el Badavi has spoken to other ears than +mine.” + +“Would a white man listen to a beggar’s daughter?” said Lakamba, +doubtingly. + +“Hai! I have seen . . .” + +“And what did you see? O one-eyed one!” exclaimed Lakamba, +contemptuously. + +“I have seen the strange white man walking on the narrow path before +the sun could dry the drops of dew on the bushes, and I have heard the +whisper of his voice when he spoke through the smoke of the morning fire +to that woman with big eyes and a pale skin. Woman in body, but in heart +a man! She knows no fear and no shame. I have heard her voice too.” + +He nodded twice at Lakamba sagaciously and gave himself up to silent +musing, his solitary eye fixed immovably upon the straight wall of +forest on the opposite bank. Lakamba lay silent, staring vacantly. Under +them Lingard’s own river rippled softly amongst the piles supporting the +bamboo platform of the little watch-house before which they were lying. +Behind the house the ground rose in a gentle swell of a low hill cleared +of the big timber, but thickly overgrown with the grass and bushes, now +withered and burnt up in the long drought of the dry season. This old +rice clearing, which had been several years lying fallow, was framed +on three sides by the impenetrable and tangled growth of the untouched +forest, and on the fourth came down to the muddy river bank. There +was not a breath of wind on the land or river, but high above, in the +transparent sky, little clouds rushed past the moon, now appearing in +her diffused rays with the brilliance of silver, now obscuring her face +with the blackness of ebony. Far away, in the middle of the river, a +fish would leap now and then with a short splash, the very loudness of +which measured the profundity of the overpowering silence that swallowed +up the sharp sound suddenly. + +Lakamba dozed uneasily off, but the wakeful Babalatchi sat thinking +deeply, sighing from time to time, and slapping himself over his naked +torso incessantly in a vain endeavour to keep off an occasional and +wandering mosquito that, rising as high as the platform above the swarms +of the riverside, would settle with a ping of triumph on the unexpected +victim. The moon, pursuing her silent and toilsome path, attained +her highest elevation, and chasing the shadow of the roof-eaves from +Lakamba’s face, seemed to hang arrested over their heads. Babalatchi +revived the fire and woke up his companion, who sat up yawning and +shivering discontentedly. + +Babalatchi spoke again in a voice which was like the murmur of a brook +that runs over the stones: low, monotonous, persistent; irresistible +in its power to wear out and to destroy the hardest obstacles. Lakamba +listened, silent but interested. They were Malay adventurers; ambitious +men of that place and time; the Bohemians of their race. In the early +days of the settlement, before the ruler Patalolo had shaken off his +allegiance to the Sultan of Koti, Lakamba appeared in the river with +two small trading vessels. He was disappointed to find already some +semblance of organization amongst the settlers of various races who +recognized the unobtrusive sway of old Patalolo, and he was not politic +enough to conceal his disappointment. He declared himself to be a man +from the east, from those parts where no white man ruled, and to be of +an oppressed race, but of a princely family. And truly enough he had +all the gifts of an exiled prince. He was discontented, ungrateful, +turbulent; a man full of envy and ready for intrigue, with brave words +and empty promises for ever on his lips. He was obstinate, but his will +was made up of short impulses that never lasted long enough to carry him +to the goal of his ambition. Received coldly by the suspicious Patalolo, +he persisted--permission or no permission--in clearing the ground on +a good spot some fourteen miles down the river from Sambir, and built +himself a house there, which he fortified by a high palisade. As he had +many followers and seemed very reckless, the old Rajah did not think +it prudent at the time to interfere with him by force. Once settled, he +began to intrigue. The quarrel of Patalolo with the Sultan of Koti was +of his fomenting, but failed to produce the result he expected because +the Sultan could not back him up effectively at such a great distance. +Disappointed in that scheme, he promptly organized an outbreak of the +Bugis settlers, and besieged the old Rajah in his stockade with much +noisy valour and a fair chance of success; but Lingard then appeared on +the scene with the armed brig, and the old seaman’s hairy forefinger, +shaken menacingly in his face, quelled his martial ardour. No man cared +to encounter the Rajah Laut, and Lakamba, with momentary resignation, +subsided into a half-cultivator, half-trader, and nursed in his +fortified house his wrath and his ambition, keeping it for use on a +more propitious occasion. Still faithful to his character of a +prince-pretender, he would not recognize the constituted authorities, +answering sulkily the Rajah’s messenger, who claimed the tribute for the +cultivated fields, that the Rajah had better come and take it himself. +By Lingard’s advice he was left alone, notwithstanding his rebellious +mood; and for many days he lived undisturbed amongst his wives and +retainers, cherishing that persistent and causeless hope of better +times, the possession of which seems to be the universal privilege of +exiled greatness. + +But the passing days brought no change. The hope grew faint and the +hot ambition burnt itself out, leaving only a feeble and expiring spark +amongst a heap of dull and tepid ashes of indolent acquiescence with the +decrees of Fate, till Babalatchi fanned it again into a bright flame. +Babalatchi had blundered upon the river while in search of a safe refuge +for his disreputable head. + +He was a vagabond of the seas, a true Orang-Laut, living by rapine and +plunder of coasts and ships in his prosperous days; earning his living +by honest and irksome toil when the days of adversity were upon him. So, +although at times leading the Sulu rovers, he had also served as Serang +of country ships, and in that wise had visited the distant seas, +beheld the glories of Bombay, the might of the Mascati Sultan; had even +struggled in a pious throng for the privilege of touching with his lips +the Sacred Stone of the Holy City. He gathered experience and wisdom in +many lands, and after attaching himself to Omar el Badavi, he affected +great piety (as became a pilgrim), although unable to read the inspired +words of the Prophet. He was brave and bloodthirsty without any +affection, and he hated the white men who interfered with the manly +pursuits of throat-cutting, kidnapping, slave-dealing, and fire-raising, +that were the only possible occupation for a true man of the sea. He +found favour in the eyes of his chief, the fearless Omar el Badavi, the +leader of Brunei rovers, whom he followed with unquestioning loyalty +through the long years of successful depredation. And when that long +career of murder, robbery and violence received its first serious check +at the hands of white men, he stood faithfully by his chief, looked +steadily at the bursting shells, was undismayed by the flames of the +burning stronghold, by the death of his companions, by the shrieks +of their women, the wailing of their children; by the sudden ruin and +destruction of all that he deemed indispensable to a happy and glorious +existence. The beaten ground between the houses was slippery with blood, +and the dark mangroves of the muddy creeks were full of sighs of the +dying men who were stricken down before they could see their enemy. They +died helplessly, for into the tangled forest there was no escape, and +their swift praus, in which they had so often scoured the coast and the +seas, now wedged together in the narrow creek, were burning fiercely. +Babalatchi, with the clear perception of the coming end, devoted all his +energies to saving if it was but only one of them. He succeeded in time. +When the end came in the explosion of the stored powder-barrels, he was +ready to look for his chief. He found him half dead and totally blinded, +with nobody near him but his daughter Aissa:--the sons had fallen +earlier in the day, as became men of their courage. Helped by the girl +with the steadfast heart, Babalatchi carried Omar on board the light +prau and succeeded in escaping, but with very few companions only. As +they hauled their craft into the network of dark and silent creeks, they +could hear the cheering of the crews of the man-of-war’s boats dashing +to the attack of the rover’s village. Aissa, sitting on the high +after-deck, her father’s blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked +up with fearless eyes at Babalatchi. “They shall find only smoke, blood +and dead men, and women mad with fear there, but nothing else living,” + she said, mournfully. Babalatchi, pressing with his right hand the deep +gash on his shoulder, answered sadly: “They are very strong. When we +fight with them we can only die. Yet,” he added, menacingly--“some of us +still live! Some of us still live!” + +For a short time he dreamed of vengeance, but his dream was dispelled by +the cold reception of the Sultan of Sulu, with whom they sought refuge +at first and who gave them only a contemptuous and grudging hospitality. +While Omar, nursed by Aissa, was recovering from his wounds, Babalatchi +attended industriously before the exalted Presence that had extended to +them the hand of Protection. For all that, when Babalatchi spoke into +the Sultan’s ear certain proposals of a great and profitable raid, that +was to sweep the islands from Ternate to Acheen, the Sultan was very +angry. “I know you, you men from the west,” he exclaimed, angrily. “Your +words are poison in a Ruler’s ears. Your talk is of fire and murder +and booty--but on our heads falls the vengeance of the blood you drink. +Begone!” + +There was nothing to be done. Times were changed. So changed that, when +a Spanish frigate appeared before the island and a demand was sent +to the Sultan to deliver Omar and his companions, Babalatchi was +not surprised to hear that they were going to be made the victims of +political expediency. But from that sane appreciation of danger to tame +submission was a very long step. And then began Omar’s second flight. It +began arms in hand, for the little band had to fight in the night on +the beach for the possession of the small canoes in which those that +survived got away at last. The story of that escape lives in the hearts +of brave men even to this day. They talk of Babalatchi and of the strong +woman who carried her blind father through the surf under the fire +of the warship from the north. The companions of that piratical and +son-less Aeneas are dead now, but their ghosts wander over the waters +and the islands at night--after the manner of ghosts--and haunt the +fires by which sit armed men, as is meet for the spirits of fearless +warriors who died in battle. There they may hear the story of their own +deeds, of their own courage, suffering and death, on the lips of living +men. That story is told in many places. On the cool mats in breezy +verandahs of Rajahs’ houses it is alluded to disdainfully by impassive +statesmen, but amongst armed men that throng the courtyards it is a tale +which stills the murmur of voices and the tinkle of anklets; arrests the +passage of the siri-vessel, and fixes the eyes in absorbed gaze. They +talk of the fight, of the fearless woman, of the wise man; of long +suffering on the thirsty sea in leaky canoes; of those who died. . . . +Many died. A few survived. The chief, the woman, and another one who +became great. + +There was no hint of incipient greatness in Babalatchi’s unostentatious +arrival in Sambir. He came with Omar and Aissa in a small prau loaded +with green cocoanuts, and claimed the ownership of both vessel and +cargo. How it came to pass that Babalatchi, fleeing for his life in a +small canoe, managed to end his hazardous journey in a vessel full of a +valuable commodity, is one of those secrets of the sea that baffle +the most searching inquiry. In truth nobody inquired much. There were +rumours of a missing trading prau belonging to Menado, but they were +vague and remained mysterious. Babalatchi told a story which--it must be +said in justice to Patalolo’s knowledge of the world--was not believed. +When the Rajah ventured to state his doubts, Babalatchi asked him in +tones of calm remonstrance whether he could reasonably suppose that two +oldish men--who had only one eye amongst them--and a young woman were +likely to gain possession of anything whatever by violence? Charity was +a virtue recommended by the Prophet. There were charitable people, and +their hand was open to the deserving. Patalolo wagged his aged head +doubtingly, and Babalatchi withdrew with a shocked mien and put himself +forthwith under Lakamba’s protection. The two men who completed the +prau’s crew followed him into that magnate’s campong. The blind +Omar, with Aissa, remained under the care of the Rajah, and the Rajah +confiscated the cargo. The prau hauled up on the mud-bank, at the +junction of the two branches of the Pantai, rotted in the rain, warped +in the sun, fell to pieces and gradually vanished into the smoke of +household fires of the settlement. Only a forgotten plank and a rib or +two, sticking neglected in the shiny ooze for a long time, served to +remind Babalatchi during many months that he was a stranger in the land. + +Otherwise, he felt perfectly at home in Lakamba’s establishment, where +his peculiar position and influence were quickly recognized and soon +submitted to even by the women. He had all a true vagabond’s pliability +to circumstances and adaptiveness to momentary surroundings. In his +readiness to learn from experience that contempt for early principles +so necessary to a true statesman, he equalled the most successful +politicians of any age; and he had enough persuasiveness and firmness +of purpose to acquire a complete mastery over Lakamba’s vacillating +mind--where there was nothing stable but an all-pervading discontent. +He kept the discontent alive, he rekindled the expiring ambition, he +moderated the poor exile’s not unnatural impatience to attain a high +and lucrative position. He--the man of violence--deprecated the use of +force, for he had a clear comprehension of the difficult situation. From +the same cause, he--the hater of white men--would to some extent admit +the eventual expediency of Dutch protection. But nothing should be done +in a hurry. Whatever his master Lakamba might think, there was no use in +poisoning old Patalolo, he maintained. It could be done, of course; +but what then? As long as Lingard’s influence was paramount--as long +as Almayer, Lingard’s representative, was the only great trader of +the settlement, it was not worth Lakamba’s while--even if it had been +possible--to grasp the rule of the young state. Killing Almayer and +Lingard was so difficult and so risky that it might be dismissed as +impracticable. What was wanted was an alliance; somebody to set up +against the white men’s influence--and somebody who, while favourable to +Lakamba, would at the same time be a person of a good standing with +the Dutch authorities. A rich and considered trader was wanted. Such a +person once firmly established in Sambir would help them to oust the old +Rajah, to remove him from power or from life if there was no other way. +Then it would be time to apply to the Orang Blanda for a flag; for a +recognition of their meritorious services; for that protection which +would make them safe for ever! The word of a rich and loyal trader would +mean something with the Ruler down in Batavia. The first thing to do +was to find such an ally and to induce him to settle in Sambir. A +white trader would not do. A white man would not fall in with their +ideas--would not be trustworthy. The man they wanted should be rich, +unscrupulous, have many followers, and be a well-known personality +in the islands. Such a man might be found amongst the Arab traders. +Lingard’s jealousy, said Babalatchi, kept all the traders out of the +river. Some were afraid, and some did not know how to get there; others +ignored the very existence of Sambir; a good many did not think it +worth their while to run the risk of Lingard’s enmity for the doubtful +advantage of trade with a comparatively unknown settlement. The great +majority were undesirable or untrustworthy. And Babalatchi mentioned +regretfully the men he had known in his young days: wealthy, resolute, +courageous, reckless, ready for any enterprise! But why lament the past +and speak about the dead? There is one man--living--great--not far +off . . . + +Such was Babalatchi’s line of policy laid before his ambitious +protector. Lakamba assented, his only objection being that it was +very slow work. In his extreme desire to grasp dollars and power, the +unintellectual exile was ready to throw himself into the arms of +any wandering cut-throat whose help could be secured, and Babalatchi +experienced great difficulty in restraining him from unconsidered +violence. It would not do to let it be seen that they had any hand in +introducing a new element into the social and political life of Sambir. +There was always a possibility of failure, and in that case Lingard’s +vengeance would be swift and certain. No risk should be run. They must +wait. + +Meantime he pervaded the settlement, squatting in the course of each +day by many household fires, testing the public temper and public +opinion--and always talking about his impending departure. + +At night he would often take Lakamba’s smallest canoe and depart +silently to pay mysterious visits to his old chief on the other side of +the river. Omar lived in odour of sanctity under the wing of Patalolo. +Between the bamboo fence, enclosing the houses of the Rajah, and the +wild forest, there was a banana plantation, and on its further edge +stood two little houses built on low piles under a few precious fruit +trees that grew on the banks of a clear brook, which, bubbling up behind +the house, ran in its short and rapid course down to the big river. +Along the brook a narrow path led through the dense second growth of +a neglected clearing to the banana plantation and to the houses in it +which the Rajah had given for residence to Omar. The Rajah was greatly +impressed by Omar’s ostentatious piety, by his oracular wisdom, by +his many misfortunes, by the solemn fortitude with which he bore his +affliction. Often the old ruler of Sambir would visit informally the +blind Arab and listen gravely to his talk during the hot hours of an +afternoon. In the night, Babalatchi would call and interrupt Omar’s +repose, unrebuked. Aissa, standing silently at the door of one of the +huts, could see the two old friends as they sat very still by the fire +in the middle of the beaten ground between the two houses, talking in +an indistinct murmur far into the night. She could not hear their words, +but she watched the two formless shadows curiously. Finally Babalatchi +would rise and, taking her father by the wrist, would lead him back +to the house, arrange his mats for him, and go out quietly. Instead of +going away, Babalatchi, unconscious of Aissa’s eyes, often sat again by +the fire, in a long and deep meditation. Aissa looked with respect on +that wise and brave man--she was accustomed to see at her father’s +side as long as she could remember--sitting alone and thoughtful in +the silent night by the dying fire, his body motionless and his mind +wandering in the land of memories, or--who knows?--perhaps groping for a +road in the waste spaces of the uncertain future. + +Babalatchi noted the arrival of Willems with alarm at this new accession +to the white men’s strength. Afterwards he changed his opinion. He met +Willems one night on the path leading to Omar’s house, and noticed later +on, with only a moderate surprise, that the blind Arab did not seem +to be aware of the new white man’s visits to the neighbourhood of his +dwelling. Once, coming unexpectedly in the daytime, Babalatchi fancied +he could see the gleam of a white jacket in the bushes on the other side +of the brook. That day he watched Aissa pensively as she moved about +preparing the evening rice; but after awhile he went hurriedly away +before sunset, refusing Omar’s hospitable invitation, in the name of +Allah, to share their meal. That same evening he startled Lakamba by +announcing that the time had come at last to make the first move in +their long-deferred game. Lakamba asked excitedly for explanation. +Babalatchi shook his head and pointed to the flitting shadows of moving +women and to the vague forms of men sitting by the evening fires in the +courtyard. Not a word would he speak here, he declared. But when the +whole household was reposing, Babalatchi and Lakamba passed silent +amongst sleeping groups to the riverside, and, taking a canoe, paddled +off stealthily on their way to the dilapidated guard-hut in the old +rice-clearing. There they were safe from all eyes and ears, and could +account, if need be, for their excursion by the wish to kill a deer, the +spot being well known as the drinking-place of all kinds of game. In +the seclusion of its quiet solitude Babalatchi explained his plan to +the attentive Lakamba. His idea was to make use of Willems for the +destruction of Lingard’s influence. + +“I know the white men, Tuan,” he said, in conclusion. “In many lands +have I seen them; always the slaves of their desires, always ready to +give up their strength and their reason into the hands of some woman. +The fate of the Believers is written by the hand of the Mighty One, +but they who worship many gods are thrown into the world with smooth +foreheads, for any woman’s hand to mark their destruction there. Let one +white man destroy another. The will of the Most High is that they should +be fools. They know how to keep faith with their enemies, but towards +each other they know only deception. Hai! I have seen! I have seen!” + +He stretched himself full length before the fire, and closed his eye in +real or simulated sleep. Lakamba, not quite convinced, sat for a long +time with his gaze riveted on the dull embers. As the night advanced, +a slight white mist rose from the river, and the declining moon, bowed +over the tops of the forest, seemed to seek the repose of the earth, +like a wayward and wandering lover who returns at last to lay his tired +and silent head on his beloved’s breast. + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +“Lend me your gun, Almayer,” said Willems, across the table on which a +smoky lamp shone redly above the disorder of a finished meal. “I have a +mind to go and look for a deer when the moon rises to-night.” + +Almayer, sitting sidewise to the table, his elbow pushed amongst the +dirty plates, his chin on his breast and his legs stretched stiffly out, +kept his eyes steadily on the toes of his grass slippers and laughed +abruptly. + +“You might say yes or no instead of making that unpleasant noise,” + remarked Willems, with calm irritation. + +“If I believed one word of what you say, I would,” answered Almayer +without changing his attitude and speaking slowly, with pauses, as if +dropping his words on the floor. “As it is--what’s the use? You know +where the gun is; you may take it or leave it. Gun. Deer. Bosh! Hunt +deer! Pah! It’s a . . . gazelle you are after, my honoured guest. You +want gold anklets and silk sarongs for that game--my mighty hunter. And +you won’t get those for the asking, I promise you. All day amongst the +natives. A fine help you are to me.” + +“You shouldn’t drink so much, Almayer,” said Willems, disguising his +fury under an affected drawl. “You have no head. Never had, as far as I +can remember, in the old days in Macassar. You drink too much.” + +“I drink my own,” retorted Almayer, lifting his head quickly and darting +an angry glance at Willems. + +Those two specimens of the superior race glared at each other savagely +for a minute, then turned away their heads at the same moment as if by +previous arrangement, and both got up. Almayer kicked off his slippers +and scrambled into his hammock, which hung between two wooden columns +of the verandah so as to catch every rare breeze of the dry season, +and Willems, after standing irresolutely by the table for a short time, +walked without a word down the steps of the house and over the courtyard +towards the little wooden jetty, where several small canoes and a couple +of big white whale-boats were made fast, tugging at their short painters +and bumping together in the swift current of the river. He jumped into +the smallest canoe, balancing himself clumsily, slipped the rattan +painter, and gave an unnecessary and violent shove, which nearly sent +him headlong overboard. By the time he regained his balance the canoe +had drifted some fifty yards down the river. He knelt in the bottom of +his little craft and fought the current with long sweeps of the paddle. +Almayer sat up in his hammock, grasping his feet and peering over the +river with parted lips till he made out the shadowy form of man and +canoe as they struggled past the jetty again. + +“I thought you would go,” he shouted. “Won’t you take the gun? Hey?” + he yelled, straining his voice. Then he fell back in his hammock and +laughed to himself feebly till he fell asleep. On the river, Willems, +his eyes fixed intently ahead, swept his paddle right and left, +unheeding the words that reached him faintly. + +It was now three months since Lingard had landed Willems in Sambir and +had departed hurriedly, leaving him in Almayer’s care. + +The two white men did not get on well together. Almayer, remembering the +time when they both served Hudig, and when the superior Willems treated +him with offensive condescension, felt a great dislike towards his +guest. He was also jealous of Lingard’s favour. Almayer had married a +Malay girl whom the old seaman had adopted in one of his accesses of +unreasoning benevolence, and as the marriage was not a happy one from a +domestic point of view, he looked to Lingard’s fortune for compensation +in his matrimonial unhappiness. The appearance of that man, who seemed +to have a claim of some sort upon Lingard, filled him with considerable +uneasiness, the more so because the old seaman did not choose to +acquaint the husband of his adopted daughter with Willems’ history, or +to confide to him his intentions as to that individual’s future fate. +Suspicious from the first, Almayer discouraged Willems’ attempts to +help him in his trading, and then when Willems drew back, he made, with +characteristic perverseness, a grievance of his unconcern. From cold +civility in their relations, the two men drifted into silent hostility, +then into outspoken enmity, and both wished ardently for Lingard’s +return and the end of a situation that grew more intolerable from day +to day. The time dragged slowly. Willems watched the succeeding sunrises +wondering dismally whether before the evening some change would occur +in the deadly dullness of his life. He missed the commercial activity of +that existence which seemed to him far off, irreparably lost, buried out +of sight under the ruins of his past success--now gone from him beyond +the possibility of redemption. He mooned disconsolately about Almayer’s +courtyard, watching from afar, with uninterested eyes, the up-country +canoes discharging guttah or rattans, and loading rice or European goods +on the little wharf of Lingard & Co. Big as was the extent of ground +owned by Almayer, Willems yet felt that there was not enough room for +him inside those neat fences. The man who, during long years, became +accustomed to think of himself as indispensable to others, felt a bitter +and savage rage at the cruel consciousness of his superfluity, of his +uselessness; at the cold hostility visible in every look of the only +white man in this barbarous corner of the world. He gnashed his teeth +when he thought of the wasted days, of the life thrown away in the +unwilling company of that peevish and suspicious fool. He heard the +reproach of his idleness in the murmurs of the river, in the unceasing +whisper of the great forests. Round him everything stirred, moved, swept +by in a rush; the earth under his feet and the heavens above his head. +The very savages around him strove, struggled, fought, worked--if only +to prolong a miserable existence; but they lived, they lived! And it was +only himself that seemed to be left outside the scheme of creation in a +hopeless immobility filled with tormenting anger and with ever-stinging +regret. + +He took to wandering about the settlement. The afterwards flourishing +Sambir was born in a swamp and passed its youth in malodorous mud. +The houses crowded the bank, and, as if to get away from the unhealthy +shore, stepped boldly into the river, shooting over it in a close row of +bamboo platforms elevated on high piles, amongst which the current below +spoke in a soft and unceasing plaint of murmuring eddies. There was only +one path in the whole town and it ran at the back of the houses along +the succession of blackened circular patches that marked the place of +the household fires. On the other side the virgin forest bordered the +path, coming close to it, as if to provoke impudently any passer-by to +the solution of the gloomy problem of its depths. Nobody would accept +the deceptive challenge. There were only a few feeble attempts at a +clearing here and there, but the ground was low and the river, retiring +after its yearly floods, left on each a gradually diminishing mudhole, +where the imported buffaloes of the Bugis settlers wallowed happily +during the heat of the day. When Willems walked on the path, the +indolent men stretched on the shady side of the houses looked at him +with calm curiosity, the women busy round the cooking fires would send +after him wondering and timid glances, while the children would only +look once, and then run away yelling with fright at the horrible +appearance of the man with a red and white face. These manifestations +of childish disgust and fear stung Willems with a sense of absurd +humiliation; he sought in his walks the comparative solitude of the +rudimentary clearings, but the very buffaloes snorted with alarm at his +sight, scrambled lumberingly out of the cool mud and stared wildly in a +compact herd at him as he tried to slink unperceived along the edge of +the forest. One day, at some unguarded and sudden movement of his, the +whole herd stampeded down the path, scattered the fires, sent the women +flying with shrill cries, and left behind a track of smashed pots, +trampled rice, overturned children, and a crowd of angry men brandishing +sticks in loud-voiced pursuit. The innocent cause of that disturbance +ran shamefacedly the gauntlet of black looks and unfriendly remarks, +and hastily sought refuge in Almayer’s campong. After that he left the +settlement alone. + +Later, when the enforced confinement grew irksome, Willems took one +of Almayer’s many canoes and crossed the main branch of the Pantai in +search of some solitary spot where he could hide his discouragement +and his weariness. He skirted in his little craft the wall of tangled +verdure, keeping in the dead water close to the bank where the spreading +nipa palms nodded their broad leaves over his head as if in contemptuous +pity of the wandering outcast. Here and there he could see the +beginnings of chopped-out pathways, and, with the fixed idea of getting +out of sight of the busy river, he would land and follow the narrow and +winding path, only to find that it led nowhere, ending abruptly in +the discouragement of thorny thickets. He would go back slowly, with a +bitter sense of unreasonable disappointment and sadness; oppressed by +the hot smell of earth, dampness, and decay in that forest which seemed +to push him mercilessly back into the glittering sunshine of the +river. And he would recommence paddling with tired arms to seek another +opening, to find another deception. + +As he paddled up to the point where the Rajah’s stockade came down to +the river, the nipas were left behind rattling their leaves over the +brown water, and the big trees would appear on the bank, tall, strong, +indifferent in the immense solidity of their life, which endures for +ages, to that short and fleeting life in the heart of the man who crept +painfully amongst their shadows in search of a refuge from the unceasing +reproach of his thoughts. Amongst their smooth trunks a clear brook +meandered for a time in twining lacets before it made up its mind to +take a leap into the hurrying river, over the edge of the steep bank. +There was also a pathway there and it seemed frequented. Willems landed, +and following the capricious promise of the track soon found himself in +a comparatively clear space, where the confused tracery of sunlight fell +through the branches and the foliage overhead, and lay on the stream +that shone in an easy curve like a bright sword-blade dropped amongst +the long and feathery grass. + +Further on, the path continued, narrowed again in the thick undergrowth. +At the end of the first turning Willems saw a flash of white and colour, +a gleam of gold like a sun-ray lost in shadow, and a vision of blackness +darker than the deepest shade of the forest. He stopped, surprised, +and fancied he had heard light footsteps--growing lighter--ceasing. +He looked around. The grass on the bank of the stream trembled and a +tremulous path of its shivering, silver-grey tops ran from the water to +the beginning of the thicket. And yet there was not a breath of wind. +Somebody kind passed there. He looked pensive while the tremor died out +in a quick tremble under his eyes; and the grass stood high, unstirring, +with drooping heads in the warm and motionless air. + +He hurried on, driven by a suddenly awakened curiosity, and entered the +narrow way between the bushes. At the next turn of the path he caught +again the glimpse of coloured stuff and of a woman’s black hair before +him. He hastened his pace and came in full view of the object of his +pursuit. The woman, who was carrying two bamboo vessels full of water, +heard his footsteps, stopped, and putting the bamboos down half turned +to look back. Willems also stood still for a minute, then walked +steadily on with a firm tread, while the woman moved aside to let +him pass. He kept his eyes fixed straight before him, yet almost +unconsciously he took in every detail of the tall and graceful figure. +As he approached her the woman tossed her head slightly back, and with a +free gesture of her strong, round arm, caught up the mass of loose black +hair and brought it over her shoulder and across the lower part of her +face. The next moment he was passing her close, walking rigidly, like a +man in a trance. He heard her rapid breathing and he felt the touch of +a look darted at him from half-open eyes. It touched his brain and his +heart together. It seemed to him to be something loud and stirring like +a shout, silent and penetrating like an inspiration. The momentum of his +motion carried him past her, but an invisible force made up of surprise +and curiosity and desire spun him round as soon as he had passed. + +She had taken up her burden already, with the intention of pursuing her +path. His sudden movement arrested her at the first step, and again she +stood straight, slim, expectant, with a readiness to dart away suggested +in the light immobility of her pose. High above, the branches of the +trees met in a transparent shimmer of waving green mist, through which +the rain of yellow rays descended upon her head, streamed in glints down +her black tresses, shone with the changing glow of liquid metal on her +face, and lost itself in vanishing sparks in the sombre depths of her +eyes that, wide open now, with enlarged pupils, looked steadily at the +man in her path. And Willems stared at her, charmed with a charm that +carries with it a sense of irreparable loss, tingling with that feeling +which begins like a caress and ends in a blow, in that sudden hurt of a +new emotion making its way into a human heart, with the brusque stirring +of sleeping sensations awakening suddenly to the rush of new hopes, new +fears, new desires--and to the flight of one’s old self. + +She moved a step forward and again halted. A breath of wind that came +through the trees, but in Willems’ fancy seemed to be driven by her +moving figure, rippled in a hot wave round his body and scorched his +face in a burning touch. He drew it in with a long breath, the last +long breath of a soldier before the rush of battle, of a lover before +he takes in his arms the adored woman; the breath that gives courage to +confront the menace of death or the storm of passion. + +Who was she? Where did she come from? Wonderingly he took his eyes off +her face to look round at the serried trees of the forest that stood big +and still and straight, as if watching him and her breathlessly. He +had been baffled, repelled, almost frightened by the intensity of that +tropical life which wants the sunshine but works in gloom; which seems +to be all grace of colour and form, all brilliance, all smiles, but is +only the blossoming of the dead; whose mystery holds the promise of +joy and beauty, yet contains nothing but poison and decay. He had been +frightened by the vague perception of danger before, but now, as he +looked at that life again, his eyes seemed able to pierce the fantastic +veil of creepers and leaves, to look past the solid trunks, to see +through the forbidding gloom--and the mystery was disclosed--enchanting, +subduing, beautiful. He looked at the woman. Through the checkered light +between them she appeared to him with the impalpable distinctness of +a dream. The very spirit of that land of mysterious forests, standing +before him like an apparition behind a transparent veil--a veil woven of +sunbeams and shadows. + +She had approached him still nearer. He felt a strange impatience +within him at her advance. Confused thoughts rushed through his head, +disordered, shapeless, stunning. Then he heard his own voice asking-- + +“Who are you?” + +“I am the daughter of the blind Omar,” she answered, in a low but +steady tone. “And you,” she went on, a little louder, “you are the white +trader--the great man of this place.” + +“Yes,” said Willems, holding her eyes with his in a sense of extreme +effort, “Yes, I am white.” Then he added, feeling as if he spoke about +some other man, “But I am the outcast of my people.” + +She listened to him gravely. Through the mesh of scattered hair her +face looked like the face of a golden statue with living eyes. The heavy +eyelids dropped slightly, and from between the long eyelashes she sent +out a sidelong look: hard, keen, and narrow, like the gleam of sharp +steel. Her lips were firm and composed in a graceful curve, but the +distended nostrils, the upward poise of the half-averted head, gave to +her whole person the expression of a wild and resentful defiance. + +A shadow passed over Willems’ face. He put his hand over his lips as if +to keep back the words that wanted to come out in a surge of impulsive +necessity, the outcome of dominant thought that rushes from the heart to +the brain and must be spoken in the face of doubt, of danger, of fear, +of destruction itself. + +“You are beautiful,” he whispered. + +She looked at him again with a glance that running in one quick flash of +her eyes over his sunburnt features, his broad shoulders, his straight, +tall, motionless figure, rested at last on the ground at his feet. Then +she smiled. In the sombre beauty of her face that smile was like the +first ray of light on a stormy daybreak that darts evanescent and pale +through the gloomy clouds: the forerunner of sunrise and of thunder. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +There are in our lives short periods which hold no place in memory +but only as the recollection of a feeling. There is no remembrance of +gesture, of action, of any outward manifestation of life; those are lost +in the unearthly brilliance or in the unearthly gloom of such moments. +We are absorbed in the contemplation of that something, within our +bodies, which rejoices or suffers while the body goes on breathing, +instinctively runs away or, not less instinctively, fights--perhaps +dies. But death in such a moment is the privilege of the fortunate, it +is a high and rare favour, a supreme grace. + +Willems never remembered how and when he parted from Aissa. He caught +himself drinking the muddy water out of the hollow of his hand, while +his canoe was drifting in mid-stream past the last houses of Sambir. +With his returning wits came the fear of something unknown that had +taken possession of his heart, of something inarticulate and masterful +which could not speak and would be obeyed. His first impulse was that of +revolt. He would never go back there. Never! He looked round slowly at +the brilliance of things in the deadly sunshine and took up his paddle! +How changed everything seemed! The river was broader, the sky was +higher. How fast the canoe flew under the strokes of his paddle! Since +when had he acquired the strength of two men or more? He looked up and +down the reach at the forests of the bank with a confused notion that +with one sweep of his hand he could tumble all these trees into the +stream. His face felt burning. He drank again, and shuddered with a +depraved sense of pleasure at the after-taste of slime in the water. + +It was late when he reached Almayer’s house, but he crossed the dark and +uneven courtyard, walking lightly in the radiance of some light of his +own, invisible to other eyes. His host’s sulky greeting jarred him +like a sudden fall down a great height. He took his place at the table +opposite Almayer and tried to speak cheerfully to his gloomy companion, +but when the meal was ended and they sat smoking in silence he felt an +abrupt discouragement, a lassitude in all his limbs, a sense of immense +sadness as after some great and irreparable loss. The darkness of the +night entered his heart, bringing with it doubt and hesitation and +dull anger with himself and all the world. He had an impulse to shout +horrible curses, to quarrel with Almayer, to do something violent. Quite +without any immediate provocation he thought he would like to assault +the wretched, sulky beast. He glanced at him ferociously from under +his eyebrows. The unconscious Almayer smoked thoughtfully, planning +to-morrow’s work probably. The man’s composure seemed to Willems an +unpardonable insult. Why didn’t that idiot talk to-night when he wanted +him to? . . . on other nights he was ready enough to chatter. And such +dull nonsense too! And Willems, trying hard to repress his own senseless +rage, looked fixedly through the thick tobacco-smoke at the stained +tablecloth. + +They retired early, as usual, but in the middle of the night Willems +leaped out of his hammock with a stifled execration and ran down the +steps into the courtyard. The two night watchmen, who sat by a little +fire talking together in a monotonous undertone, lifted their heads +to look wonderingly at the discomposed features of the white man as he +crossed the circle of light thrown out by their fire. He disappeared in +the darkness and then came back again, passing them close, but with +no sign of consciousness of their presence on his face. Backwards and +forwards he paced, muttering to himself, and the two Malays, after a +short consultation in whispers left the fire quietly, not thinking it +safe to remain in the vicinity of a white man who behaved in such a +strange manner. They retired round the corner of the godown and watched +Willems curiously through the night, till the short daybreak was +followed by the sudden blaze of the rising sun, and Almayer’s +establishment woke up to life and work. + +As soon as he could get away unnoticed in the bustle of the busy +riverside, Willems crossed the river on his way to the place where he +had met Aissa. He threw himself down in the grass by the side of the +brook and listened for the sound of her footsteps. The brilliant light +of day fell through the irregular opening in the high branches of the +trees and streamed down, softened, amongst the shadows of big trunks. +Here and there a narrow sunbeam touched the rugged bark of a tree with a +golden splash, sparkled on the leaping water of the brook, or rested +on a leaf that stood out, shimmering and distinct, on the monotonous +background of sombre green tints. The clear gap of blue above his head +was crossed by the quick flight of white rice-birds whose wings flashed +in the sunlight, while through it the heat poured down from the sky, +clung about the steaming earth, rolled among the trees, and wrapped up +Willems in the soft and odorous folds of air heavy with the faint scent +of blossoms and with the acrid smell of decaying life. And in that +atmosphere of Nature’s workshop Willems felt soothed and lulled into +forgetfulness of his past, into indifference as to his future. The +recollections of his triumphs, of his wrongs and of his ambition +vanished in that warmth, which seemed to melt all regrets, all hope, +all anger, all strength out of his heart. And he lay there, dreamily +contented, in the tepid and perfumed shelter, thinking of Aissa’s eyes; +recalling the sound of her voice, the quiver of her lips--her frowns and +her smile. + +She came, of course. To her he was something new, unknown and strange. +He was bigger, stronger than any man she had seen before, and altogether +different from all those she knew. He was of the victorious race. With +a vivid remembrance of the great catastrophe of her life he appeared to +her with all the fascination of a great and dangerous thing; of a terror +vanquished, surmounted, made a plaything of. They spoke with just such +a deep voice--those victorious men; they looked with just such hard +blue eyes at their enemies. And she made that voice speak softly to her, +those eyes look tenderly at her face! He was indeed a man. She could not +understand all he told her of his life, but the fragments she understood +she made up for herself into a story of a man great amongst his own +people, valorous and unfortunate; an undaunted fugitive dreaming of +vengeance against his enemies. He had all the attractiveness of the +vague and the unknown--of the unforeseen and of the sudden; of a being +strong, dangerous, alive, and human, ready to be enslaved. + +She felt that he was ready. She felt it with the unerring intuition of a +primitive woman confronted by a simple impulse. Day after day, when they +met and she stood a little way off, listening to his words, holding him +with her look, the undefined terror of the new conquest became faint and +blurred like the memory of a dream, and the certitude grew distinct, +and convincing, and visible to the eyes like some material thing in full +sunlight. It was a deep joy, a great pride, a tangible sweetness that +seemed to leave the taste of honey on her lips. He lay stretched at her +feet without moving, for he knew from experience how a slight movement +of his could frighten her away in those first days of their intercourse. +He lay very quiet, with all the ardour of his desire ringing in his +voice and shining in his eyes, whilst his body was still, like death +itself. And he looked at her, standing above him, her head lost in the +shadow of broad and graceful leaves that touched her cheek; while the +slender spikes of pale green orchids streamed down from amongst the +boughs and mingled with the black hair that framed her face, as if +all those plants claimed her for their own--the animated and brilliant +flower of all that exuberant life which, born in gloom, struggles for +ever towards the sunshine. + +Every day she came a little nearer. He watched her slow progress--the +gradual taming of that woman by the words of his love. It was the +monotonous song of praise and desire that, commencing at creation, wraps +up the world like an atmosphere and shall end only in the end of all +things--when there are no lips to sing and no ears to hear. He told +her that she was beautiful and desirable, and he repeated it again +and again; for when he told her that, he had said all there was within +him--he had expressed his only thought, his only feeling. And he watched +the startled look of wonder and mistrust vanish from her face with the +passing days, her eyes soften, the smile dwell longer and longer on her +lips; a smile as of one charmed by a delightful dream; with the slight +exaltation of intoxicating triumph lurking in its dawning tenderness. + +And while she was near there was nothing in the whole world--for that +idle man--but her look and her smile. Nothing in the past, nothing in +the future; and in the present only the luminous fact of her existence. +But in the sudden darkness of her going he would be left weak and +helpless, as though despoiled violently of all that was himself. He who +had lived all his life with no preoccupation but that of his own career, +contemptuously indifferent to all feminine influence, full of scorn +for men that would submit to it, if ever so little; he, so strong, +so superior even in his errors, realized at last that his very +individuality was snatched from within himself by the hand of a woman. +Where was the assurance and pride of his cleverness; the belief in +success, the anger of failure, the wish to retrieve his fortune, the +certitude of his ability to accomplish it yet? Gone. All gone. All that +had been a man within him was gone, and there remained only the trouble +of his heart--that heart which had become a contemptible thing; which +could be fluttered by a look or a smile, tormented by a word, soothed by +a promise. + +When the longed-for day came at last, when she sank on the grass by his +side and with a quick gesture took his hand in hers, he sat up suddenly +with the movement and look of a man awakened by the crash of his own +falling house. All his blood, all his sensation, all his life seemed to +rush into that hand leaving him without strength, in a cold shiver, in +the sudden clamminess and collapse as of a deadly gun-shot wound. +He flung her hand away brutally, like something burning, and sat +motionless, his head fallen forward, staring on the ground and catching +his breath in painful gasps. His impulse of fear and apparent horror +did not dismay her in the least. Her face was grave and her eyes looked +seriously at him. Her fingers touched the hair of his temple, ran in +a light caress down his cheek, twisted gently the end of his long +moustache: and while he sat in the tremor of that contact she ran off +with startling fleetness and disappeared in a peal of clear laughter, +in the stir of grass, in the nod of young twigs growing over the path; +leaving behind only a vanishing trail of motion and sound. + +He scrambled to his feet slowly and painfully, like a man with a burden +on his shoulders, and walked towards the riverside. He hugged to his +breast the recollection of his fear and of his delight, but told +himself seriously over and over again that this must be the end of that +adventure. After shoving off his canoe into the stream he lifted his +eyes to the bank and gazed at it long and steadily, as if taking his +last look at a place of charming memories. He marched up to Almayer’s +house with the concentrated expression and the determined step of a man +who had just taken a momentous resolution. His face was set and rigid, +his gestures and movements were guarded and slow. He was keeping a tight +hand on himself. A very tight hand. He had a vivid illusion--as vivid +as reality almost--of being in charge of a slippery prisoner. He +sat opposite Almayer during that dinner--which was their last meal +together--with a perfectly calm face and within him a growing terror of +escape from his own self. + +Now and then he would grasp the edge of the table and set his teeth hard +in a sudden wave of acute despair, like one who, falling down a smooth +and rapid declivity that ends in a precipice, digs his finger nails into +the yielding surface and feels himself slipping helplessly to inevitable +destruction. + +Then, abruptly, came a relaxation of his muscles, the giving way of his +will. Something seemed to snap in his head, and that wish, that idea +kept back during all those hours, darted into his brain with the heat +and noise of a conflagration. He must see her! See her at once! Go now! +To-night! He had the raging regret of the lost hour, of every passing +moment. There was no thought of resistance now. Yet with the instinctive +fear of the irrevocable, with the innate falseness of the human heart, +he wanted to keep open the way of retreat. He had never absented himself +during the night. What did Almayer know? What would Almayer think? +Better ask him for the gun. A moonlight night. . . . Look for deer. . . . +A colourable pretext. He would lie to Almayer. What did it matter! He +lied to himself every minute of his life. And for what? For a woman. And +such. . . . + +Almayer’s answer showed him that deception was useless. Everything +gets to be known, even in this place. Well, he did not care. Cared for +nothing but for the lost seconds. What if he should suddenly die. Die +before he saw her. Before he could . . . + +As, with the sound of Almayer’s laughter in his ears, he urged his canoe +in a slanting course across the rapid current, he tried to tell himself +that he could return at any moment. He would just go and look at the +place where they used to meet, at the tree under which he lay when she +took his hand, at the spot where she sat by his side. Just go there and +then return--nothing more; but when his little skiff touched the bank +he leaped out, forgetting the painter, and the canoe hung for a moment +amongst the bushes and then swung out of sight before he had time to +dash into the water and secure it. He was thunderstruck at first. Now he +could not go back unless he called up the Rajah’s people to get a boat +and rowers--and the way to Patalolo’s campong led past Aissa’s house! + +He went up the path with the eager eyes and reluctant steps of a man +pursuing a phantom, and when he found himself at a place where a narrow +track branched off to the left towards Omar’s clearing he stood still, +with a look of strained attention on his face as if listening to a +far-off voice--the voice of his fate. It was a sound inarticulate but +full of meaning; and following it there came a rending and tearing +within his breast. He twisted his fingers together, and the joints of +his hands and arms cracked. On his forehead the perspiration stood +out in small pearly drops. He looked round wildly. Above the shapeless +darkness of the forest undergrowth rose the treetops with their high +boughs and leaves standing out black on the pale sky--like fragments +of night floating on moonbeams. Under his feet warm steam rose from the +heated earth. Round him there was a great silence. + +He was looking round for help. This silence, this immobility of his +surroundings seemed to him a cold rebuke, a stern refusal, a cruel +unconcern. There was no safety outside of himself--and in himself there +was no refuge; there was only the image of that woman. He had a sudden +moment of lucidity--of that cruel lucidity that comes once in life to +the most benighted. He seemed to see what went on within him, and was +horrified at the strange sight. He, a white man whose worst fault till +then had been a little want of judgment and too much confidence in the +rectitude of his kind! That woman was a complete savage, and . . . He +tried to tell himself that the thing was of no consequence. It was a +vain effort. The novelty of the sensations he had never experienced +before in the slightest degree, yet had despised on hearsay from +his safe position of a civilized man, destroyed his courage. He was +disappointed with himself. He seemed to be surrendering to a wild +creature the unstained purity of his life, of his race, of his +civilization. He had a notion of being lost amongst shapeless things +that were dangerous and ghastly. He struggled with the sense of certain +defeat--lost his footing--fell back into the darkness. With a faint cry +and an upward throw of his arms he gave up as a tired swimmer gives up: +because the swamped craft is gone from under his feet; because the night +is dark and the shore is far--because death is better than strife. + + + + +PART II + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +The light and heat fell upon the settlement, the clearings, and the +river as if flung down by an angry hand. The land lay silent, still, +and brilliant under the avalanche of burning rays that had destroyed all +sound and all motion, had buried all shadows, had choked every breath. +No living thing dared to affront the serenity of this cloudless sky, +dared to revolt against the oppression of this glorious and cruel +sunshine. Strength and resolution, body and mind alike were helpless, +and tried to hide before the rush of the fire from heaven. Only the +frail butterflies, the fearless children of the sun, the capricious +tyrants of the flowers, fluttered audaciously in the open, and their +minute shadows hovered in swarms over the drooping blossoms, ran lightly +on the withering grass, or glided on the dry and cracked earth. No voice +was heard in this hot noontide but the faint murmur of the river that +hurried on in swirls and eddies, its sparkling wavelets chasing each +other in their joyous course to the sheltering depths, to the cool +refuge of the sea. + +Almayer had dismissed his workmen for the midday rest, and, his little +daughter on his shoulder, ran quickly across the courtyard, making for +the shade of the verandah of his house. He laid the sleepy child on the +seat of the big rocking-chair, on a pillow which he took out of his +own hammock, and stood for a while looking down at her with tender and +pensive eyes. The child, tired and hot, moved uneasily, sighed, and +looked up at him with the veiled look of sleepy fatigue. He picked up +from the floor a broken palm-leaf fan, and began fanning gently the +flushed little face. Her eyelids fluttered and Almayer smiled. A +responsive smile brightened for a second her heavy eyes, broke with a +dimple the soft outline of her cheek; then the eyelids dropped suddenly, +she drew a long breath through the parted lips--and was in a deep sleep +before the fleeting smile could vanish from her face. + +Almayer moved lightly off, took one of the wooden armchairs, and placing +it close to the balustrade of the verandah sat down with a sigh of +relief. He spread his elbows on the top rail and resting his chin on his +clasped hands looked absently at the river, at the dance of sunlight +on the flowing water. Gradually the forest of the further bank became +smaller, as if sinking below the level of the river. The outlines +wavered, grew thin, dissolved in the air. Before his eyes there was +now only a space of undulating blue--one big, empty sky growing dark at +times. . . . Where was the sunshine? . . . He felt soothed and happy, as +if some gentle and invisible hand had removed from his soul the burden +of his body. In another second he seemed to float out into a cool +brightness where there was no such thing as memory or pain. Delicious. +His eyes closed--opened--closed again. + +“Almayer!” + +With a sudden jerk of his whole body he sat up, grasping the front rail +with both his hands, and blinked stupidly. + +“What? What’s that?” he muttered, looking round vaguely. + +“Here! Down here, Almayer.” + +Half rising in his chair, Almayer looked over the rail at the foot of +the verandah, and fell back with a low whistle of astonishment. + +“A ghost, by heavens!” he exclaimed softly to himself. + +“Will you listen to me?” went on the husky voice from the courtyard. +“May I come up, Almayer?” + +Almayer stood up and leaned over the rail. “Don’t you dare,” he said, +in a voice subdued but distinct. “Don’t you dare! The child sleeps here. +And I don’t want to hear you--or speak to you either.” + +“You must listen to me! It’s something important.” + +“Not to me, surely.” + +“Yes! To you. Very important.” + +“You were always a humbug,” said Almayer, after a short silence, in an +indulgent tone. “Always! I remember the old days. Some fellows used to +say there was no one like you for smartness--but you never took me in. +Not quite. I never quite believed in you, Mr. Willems.” + +“I admit your superior intelligence,” retorted Willems, with scornful +impatience, from below. “Listening to me would be a further proof of it. +You will be sorry if you don’t.” + +“Oh, you funny fellow!” said Almayer, banteringly. “Well, come up. Don’t +make a noise, but come up. You’ll catch a sunstroke down there and die +on my doorstep perhaps. I don’t want any tragedy here. Come on!” + +Before he finished speaking Willems’ head appeared above the level of +the floor, then his shoulders rose gradually and he stood at last before +Almayer--a masquerading spectre of the once so very confidential clerk +of the richest merchant in the islands. His jacket was soiled and torn; +below the waist he was clothed in a worn-out and faded sarong. He flung +off his hat, uncovering his long, tangled hair that stuck in wisps on +his perspiring forehead and straggled over his eyes, which glittered +deep down in the sockets like the last sparks amongst the black embers +of a burnt-out fire. An unclean beard grew out of the caverns of his +sunburnt cheeks. The hand he put out towards Almayer was very unsteady. +The once firm mouth had the tell-tale droop of mental suffering and +physical exhaustion. He was barefooted. Almayer surveyed him with +leisurely composure. + +“Well!” he said at last, without taking the extended hand which dropped +slowly along Willems’ body. + +“I am come,” began Willems. + +“So I see,” interrupted Almayer. “You might have spared me this treat +without making me unhappy. You have been away five weeks, if I am not +mistaken. I got on very well without you--and now you are here you are +not pretty to look at.” + +“Let me speak, will you!” exclaimed Willems. + +“Don’t shout like this. Do you think yourself in the forest with your +. . . your friends? This is a civilized man’s house. A white man’s. +Understand?” + +“I am come,” began Willems again; “I am come for your good and mine.” + +“You look as if you had come for a good feed,” chimed in the +irrepressible Almayer, while Willems waved his hand in a discouraged +gesture. “Don’t they give you enough to eat,” went on Almayer, in a tone +of easy banter, “those--what am I to call them--those new relations of +yours? That old blind scoundrel must be delighted with your company. You +know, he was the greatest thief and murderer of those seas. Say! do +you exchange confidences? Tell me, Willems, did you kill somebody in +Macassar or did you only steal something?” + +“It is not true!” exclaimed Willems, hotly. “I only borrowed. . . . They +all lied! I . . .” + +“Sh-sh!” hissed Almayer, warningly, with a look at the sleeping child. +“So you did steal,” he went on, with repressed exultation. “I thought +there was something of the kind. And now, here, you steal again.” + +For the first time Willems raised his eyes to Almayer’s face. + +“Oh, I don’t mean from me. I haven’t missed anything,” said Almayer, +with mocking haste. “But that girl. Hey! You stole her. You did not pay +the old fellow. She is no good to him now, is she?” + +“Stop that. Almayer!” + +Something in Willems’ tone caused Almayer to pause. He looked narrowly +at the man before him, and could not help being shocked at his +appearance. + +“Almayer,” went on Willems, “listen to me. If you are a human being you +will. I suffer horribly--and for your sake.” + +Almayer lifted his eyebrows. “Indeed! How? But you are raving,” he +added, negligently. + +“Ah! You don’t know,” whispered Willems. “She is gone. Gone,” he +repeated, with tears in his voice, “gone two days ago.” + +“No!” exclaimed the surprised Almayer. “Gone! I haven’t heard that +news yet.” He burst into a subdued laugh. “How funny! Had enough of you +already? You know it’s not flattering for you, my superior countryman.” + +Willems--as if not hearing him--leaned against one of the columns of the +roof and looked over the river. “At first,” he whispered, dreamily, “my +life was like a vision of heaven--or hell; I didn’t know which. Since +she went I know what perdition means; what darkness is. I know what it +is to be torn to pieces alive. That’s how I feel.” + +“You may come and live with me again,” said Almayer, coldly. “After all, +Lingard--whom I call my father and respect as such--left you under my +care. You pleased yourself by going away. Very good. Now you want +to come back. Be it so. I am no friend of yours. I act for Captain +Lingard.” + +“Come back?” repeated Willems, passionately. “Come back to you and +abandon her? Do you think I am mad? Without her! Man! what are you +made of? To think that she moves, lives, breathes out of my sight. I am +jealous of the wind that fans her, of the air she breathes, of the earth +that receives the caress of her foot, of the sun that looks at her now +while I . . . I haven’t seen her for two days--two days.” + +The intensity of Willems’ feeling moved Almayer somewhat, but he +affected to yawn elaborately, “You do bore me,” he muttered. “Why don’t +you go after her instead of coming here?” + +“Why indeed?” + +“Don’t you know where she is? She can’t be very far. No native craft has +left this river for the last fortnight.” + +“No! not very far--and I will tell you where she is. She is in Lakamba’s +campong.” And Willems fixed his eyes steadily on Almayer’s face. + +“Phew! Patalolo never sent to let me know. Strange,” said Almayer, +thoughtfully. “Are you afraid of that lot?” he added, after a short +pause. + +“I--afraid!” + +“Then is it the care of your dignity which prevents you from following +her there, my high-minded friend?” asked Almayer, with mock solicitude. +“How noble of you!” + +There was a short silence; then Willems said, quietly, “You are a fool. +I should like to kick you.” + +“No fear,” answered Almayer, carelessly; “you are too weak for that. You +look starved.” + +“I don’t think I have eaten anything for the last two days; perhaps +more--I don’t remember. It does not matter. I am full of live embers,” + said Willems, gloomily. “Look!” and he bared an arm covered with fresh +scars. “I have been biting myself to forget in that pain the fire that +hurts me there!” He struck his breast violently with his fist, reeled +under his own blow, fell into a chair that stood near and closed his +eyes slowly. + +“Disgusting exhibition,” said Almayer, loftily. “What could father ever +see in you? You are as estimable as a heap of garbage.” + +“You talk like that! You, who sold your soul for a few guilders,” + muttered Willems, wearily, without opening his eyes. + +“Not so few,” said Almayer, with instinctive readiness, and stopped +confused for a moment. He recovered himself quickly, however, and went +on: “But you--you have thrown yours away for nothing; flung it under +the feet of a damned savage woman who has made you already the thing you +are, and will kill you very soon, one way or another, with her love or +with her hate. You spoke just now about guilders. You meant Lingard’s +money, I suppose. Well, whatever I have sold, and for whatever price, I +never meant you--you of all people--to spoil my bargain. I feel pretty +safe though. Even father, even Captain Lingard, would not touch you now +with a pair of tongs; not with a ten-foot pole. . . .” + +He spoke excitedly, all in one breath, and, ceasing suddenly, glared at +Willems and breathed hard through his nose in sulky resentment. Willems +looked at him steadily for a moment, then got up. + +“Almayer,” he said resolutely, “I want to become a trader in this +place.” + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + +“Yes. And you shall set me up. I want a house and trade goods--perhaps a +little money. I ask you for it.” + +“Anything else you want? Perhaps this coat?” and here Almayer unbuttoned +his jacket--“or my house--or my boots?” + +“After all it’s natural,” went on Willems, without paying any attention +to Almayer--“it’s natural that she should expect the advantages which +. . . and then I could shut up that old wretch and then . . .” + +He paused, his face brightened with the soft light of dreamy enthusiasm, +and he turned his eyes upwards. With his gaunt figure and dilapidated +appearance he looked like some ascetic dweller in a wilderness, finding +the reward of a self-denying life in a vision of dazzling glory. He went +on in an impassioned murmur-- + +“And then I would have her all to myself away from her people--all +to myself--under my own influence--to fashion--to mould--to adore--to +soften--to . . . Oh! Delight! And then--then go away to some distant +place where, far from all she knew, I would be all the world to her! All +the world to her!” + +His face changed suddenly. His eyes wandered for awhile and then became +steady all at once. + +“I would repay every cent, of course,” he said, in a business-like tone, +with something of his old assurance, of his old belief in himself, in +it. “Every cent. I need not interfere with your business. I shall cut +out the small native traders. I have ideas--but never mind that now. And +Captain Lingard would approve, I feel sure. After all it’s a loan, and I +shall be at hand. Safe thing for you.” + +“Ah! Captain Lingard would approve! He would app . . .” Almayer choked. +The notion of Lingard doing something for Willems enraged him. His face +was purple. He spluttered insulting words. Willems looked at him coolly. + +“I assure you, Almayer,” he said, gently, “that I have good grounds for +my demand.” + +“Your cursed impudence!” + +“Believe me, Almayer, your position here is not so safe as you may +think. An unscrupulous rival here would destroy your trade in a year. +It would be ruin. Now Lingard’s long absence gives courage to certain +individuals. You know?--I have heard much lately. They made proposals to +me . . . You are very much alone here. Even Patalolo . . .” + +“Damn Patalolo! I am master in this place.” + +“But, Almayer, don’t you see . . .” + +“Yes, I see. I see a mysterious ass,” interrupted Almayer, violently. +“What is the meaning of your veiled threats? Don’t you think I know +something also? They have been intriguing for years--and nothing has +happened. The Arabs have been hanging about outside this river for +years--and I am still the only trader here; the master here. Do you +bring me a declaration of war? Then it’s from yourself only. I know all +my other enemies. I ought to knock you on the head. You are not worth +powder and shot though. You ought to be destroyed with a stick--like a +snake.” + +Almayer’s voice woke up the little girl, who sat up on the pillow with a +sharp cry. He rushed over to the chair, caught up the child in his arms, +walked back blindly, stumbled against Willems’ hat which lay on the +floor, and kicked it furiously down the steps. + +“Clear out of this! Clear out!” he shouted. + +Willems made an attempt to speak, but Almayer howled him down. + +“Take yourself off! Don’t you see you frighten the child--you scarecrow! +No, no! dear,” he went on to his little daughter, soothingly, while +Willems walked down the steps slowly. “No. Don’t cry. See! Bad man going +away. Look! He is afraid of your papa. Nasty, bad man. Never come back +again. He shall live in the woods and never come near my little girl. If +he comes papa will kill him--so!” He struck his fist on the rail of the +balustrade to show how he would kill Willems, and, perching the consoled +child on his shoulder held her with one hand, while he pointed toward +the retreating figure of his visitor. + +“Look how he runs away, dearest,” he said, coaxingly. “Isn’t he funny. +Call ‘pig’ after him, dearest. Call after him.” + +The seriousness of her face vanished into dimples. Under the long +eyelashes, glistening with recent tears, her big eyes sparkled and +danced with fun. She took firm hold of Almayer’s hair with one hand, +while she waved the other joyously and called out with all her might, in +a clear note, soft and distinct like the pipe of a bird:-- + +“Pig! Pig! Pig!” + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +A sigh under the flaming blue, a shiver of the sleeping sea, a cool +breath as if a door had been swung upon the frozen spaces of the +universe, and with a stir of leaves, with the nod of boughs, with the +tremble of slender branches the sea breeze struck the coast, rushed up +the river, swept round the broad reaches, and travelled on in a soft +ripple of darkening water, in the whisper of branches, in the rustle of +leaves of the awakened forests. It fanned in Lakamba’s campong the dull +red of expiring embers into a pale brilliance; and, under its touch, +the slender, upright spirals of smoke that rose from every glowing heap +swayed, wavered, and eddying down filled the twilight of clustered shade +trees with the aromatic scent of the burning wood. The men who had been +dozing in the shade during the hot hours of the afternoon woke up, and +the silence of the big courtyard was broken by the hesitating murmur +of yet sleepy voices, by coughs and yawns, with now and then a burst of +laughter, a loud hail, a name or a joke sent out in a soft drawl. Small +groups squatted round the little fires, and the monotonous undertone of +talk filled the enclosure; the talk of barbarians, persistent, steady, +repeating itself in the soft syllables, in musical tones of the +never-ending discourses of those men of the forests and the sea, who +can talk most of the day and all the night; who never exhaust a subject, +never seem able to thresh a matter out; to whom that talk is poetry and +painting and music, all art, all history; their only accomplishment, +their only superiority, their only amusement. The talk of camp fires, +which speaks of bravery and cunning, of strange events and of far +countries, of the news of yesterday and the news of to-morrow. The talk +about the dead and the living--about those who fought and those who +loved. + +Lakamba came out on the platform before his own house and sat +down--perspiring, half asleep, and sulky--in a wooden armchair under the +shade of the overhanging eaves. Through the darkness of the doorway +he could hear the soft warbling of his womenkind, busy round the looms +where they were weaving the checkered pattern of his gala sarongs. Right +and left of him on the flexible bamboo floor those of his followers to +whom their distinguished birth, long devotion, or faithful service had +given the privilege of using the chief’s house, were sleeping on mats +or just sat up rubbing their eyes: while the more wakeful had mustered +enough energy to draw a chessboard with red clay on a fine mat and were +now meditating silently over their moves. Above the prostrate forms +of the players, who lay face downward supported on elbow, the soles of +their feet waving irresolutely about, in the absorbed meditation of the +game, there towered here and there the straight figure of an attentive +spectator looking down with dispassionate but profound interest. On the +edge of the platform a row of high-heeled leather sandals stood ranged +carefully in a level line, and against the rough wooden rail leaned the +slender shafts of the spears belonging to these gentlemen, the broad +blades of dulled steel looking very black in the reddening light of +approaching sunset. + +A boy of about twelve--the personal attendant of Lakamba--squatted +at his master’s feet and held up towards him a silver siri box. Slowly +Lakamba took the box, opened it, and tearing off a piece of green leaf +deposited in it a pinch of lime, a morsel of gambier, a small bit of +areca nut, and wrapped up the whole with a dexterous twist. He paused, +morsel in hand, seemed to miss something, turned his head from side +to side, slowly, like a man with a stiff neck, and ejaculated in an +ill-humoured bass-- + +“Babalatchi!” + +The players glanced up quickly, and looked down again directly. Those +men who were standing stirred uneasily as if prodded by the sound of +the chief’s voice. The one nearest to Lakamba repeated the call, after +a while, over the rail into the courtyard. There was a movement +of upturned faces below by the fires, and the cry trailed over the +enclosure in sing-song tones. The thumping of wooden pestles husking +the evening rice stopped for a moment and Babalatchi’s name rang +afresh shrilly on women’s lips in various keys. A voice far off shouted +something--another, nearer, repeated it; there was a short hubbub which +died out with extreme suddenness. The first crier turned to Lakamba, +saying indolently-- + +“He is with the blind Omar.” + +Lakamba’s lips moved inaudibly. The man who had just spoken was again +deeply absorbed in the game going on at his feet; and the chief--as if +he had forgotten all about it already--sat with a stolid face amongst +his silent followers, leaning back squarely in his chair, his hands on +the arms of his seat, his knees apart, his big blood-shot eyes blinking +solemnly, as if dazzled by the noble vacuity of his thoughts. + +Babalatchi had gone to see old Omar late in the afternoon. The delicate +manipulation of the ancient pirate’s susceptibilities, the skilful +management of Aissa’s violent impulses engrossed him to the exclusion +of every other business--interfered with his regular attendance upon his +chief and protector--even disturbed his sleep for the last three nights. +That day when he left his own bamboo hut--which stood amongst others in +Lakamba’s campong--his heart was heavy with anxiety and with doubt as +to the success of his intrigue. He walked slowly, with his usual air of +detachment from his surroundings, as if unaware that many sleepy eyes +watched from all parts of the courtyard his progress towards a small +gate at its upper end. That gate gave access to a separate enclosure +in which a rather large house, built of planks, had been prepared by +Lakamba’s orders for the reception of Omar and Aissa. It was a superior +kind of habitation which Lakamba intended for the dwelling of his chief +adviser--whose abilities were worth that honour, he thought. But after +the consultation in the deserted clearing--when Babalatchi had disclosed +his plan--they both had agreed that the new house should be used at +first to shelter Omar and Aissa after they had been persuaded to leave +the Rajah’s place, or had been kidnapped from there--as the case might +be. Babalatchi did not mind in the least the putting off of his own +occupation of the house of honour, because it had many advantages for +the quiet working out of his plans. It had a certain seclusion, having +an enclosure of its own, and that enclosure communicated also with +Lakamba’s private courtyard at the back of his residence--a place set +apart for the female household of the chief. The only communication with +the river was through the great front courtyard always full of armed men +and watchful eyes. Behind the whole group of buildings there stretched +the level ground of rice-clearings, which in their turn were closed in +by the wall of untouched forests with undergrowth so thick and tangled +that nothing but a bullet--and that fired at pretty close range--could +penetrate any distance there. + +Babalatchi slipped quietly through the little gate and, closing it, tied +up carefully the rattan fastenings. Before the house there was a square +space of ground, beaten hard into the level smoothness of asphalte. A +big buttressed tree, a giant left there on purpose during the process +of clearing the land, roofed in the clear space with a high canopy of +gnarled boughs and thick, sombre leaves. To the right--and some small +distance away from the large house--a little hut of reeds, covered with +mats, had been put up for the special convenience of Omar, who, being +blind and infirm, had some difficulty in ascending the steep plankway +that led to the more substantial dwelling, which was built on low posts +and had an uncovered verandah. Close by the trunk of the tree, and +facing the doorway of the hut, the household fire glowed in a small +handful of embers in the midst of a large circle of white ashes. An +old woman--some humble relation of one of Lakamba’s wives, who had been +ordered to attend on Aissa--was squatting over the fire and lifted up +her bleared eyes to gaze at Babalatchi in an uninterested manner, as he +advanced rapidly across the courtyard. + +Babalatchi took in the courtyard with a keen glance of his solitary eye, +and without looking down at the old woman muttered a question. Silently, +the woman stretched a tremulous and emaciated arm towards the hut. +Babalatchi made a few steps towards the doorway, but stopped outside in +the sunlight. + +“O! Tuan Omar, Omar besar! It is I--Babalatchi!” + +Within the hut there was a feeble groan, a fit of coughing and an +indistinct murmur in the broken tones of a vague plaint. Encouraged +evidently by those signs of dismal life within, Babalatchi entered the +hut, and after some time came out leading with rigid carefulness the +blind Omar, who followed with both his hands on his guide’s shoulders. +There was a rude seat under the tree, and there Babalatchi led his old +chief, who sat down with a sigh of relief and leaned wearily against the +rugged trunk. The rays of the setting sun, darting under the spreading +branches, rested on the white-robed figure sitting with head thrown back +in stiff dignity, on the thin hands moving uneasily, and on the stolid +face with its eyelids dropped over the destroyed eyeballs; a face set +into the immobility of a plaster cast yellowed by age. + +“Is the sun near its setting?” asked Omar, in a dull voice. + +“Very near,” answered Babalatchi. + +“Where am I? Why have I been taken away from the place which I +knew--where I, blind, could move without fear? It is like black night to +those who see. And the sun is near its setting--and I have not heard the +sound of her footsteps since the morning! Twice a strange hand has given +me my food to-day. Why? Why? Where is she?” + +“She is near,” said Babalatchi. + +“And he?” went on Omar, with sudden eagerness, and a drop in his voice. +“Where is he? Not here. Not here!” he repeated, turning his head from +side to side as if in deliberate attempt to see. + +“No! He is not here now,” said Babalatchi, soothingly. Then, after a +pause, he added very low, “But he shall soon return.” + +“Return! O crafty one! Will he return? I have cursed him three times,” + exclaimed Omar, with weak violence. + +“He is--no doubt--accursed,” assented Babalatchi, in a conciliating +manner--“and yet he will be here before very long--I know!” + +“You are crafty and faithless. I have made you great. You were dirt +under my feet--less than dirt,” said Omar, with tremulous energy. + +“I have fought by your side many times,” said Babalatchi, calmly. + +“Why did he come?” went on Omar. “Did you send him? Why did he come to +defile the air I breathe--to mock at my fate--to poison her mind and +steal her body? She has grown hard of heart to me. Hard and merciless +and stealthy like rocks that tear a ship’s life out under the smooth +sea.” He drew a long breath, struggled with his anger, then broke +down suddenly. “I have been hungry,” he continued, in a whimpering +tone--“often I have been very hungry--and cold--and neglected--and +nobody near me. She has often forgotten me--and my sons are dead, and +that man is an infidel and a dog. Why did he come? Did you show him the +way?” + +“He found the way himself, O Leader of the brave,” said Babalatchi, +sadly. “I only saw a way for their destruction and our own greatness. +And if I saw aright, then you shall never suffer from hunger any more. +There shall be peace for us, and glory and riches.” + +“And I shall die to-morrow,” murmured Omar, bitterly. + +“Who knows? Those things have been written since the beginning of the +world,” whispered Babalatchi, thoughtfully. + +“Do not let him come back,” exclaimed Omar. + +“Neither can he escape his fate,” went on Babalatchi. “He shall come +back, and the power of men we always hated, you and I, shall crumble +into dust in our hand.” Then he added with enthusiasm, “They shall fight +amongst themselves and perish both.” + +“And you shall see all this, while, I . . .” + +“True!” murmured Babalatchi, regretfully. “To you life is darkness.” + +“No! Flame!” exclaimed the old Arab, half rising, then falling back in +his seat. “The flame of that last day! I see it yet--the last thing I +saw! And I hear the noise of the rent earth--when they all died. And +I live to be the plaything of a crafty one,” he added, with +inconsequential peevishness. + +“You are my master still,” said Babalatchi, humbly. “You are very +wise--and in your wisdom you shall speak to Syed Abdulla when he comes +here--you shall speak to him as I advised, I, your servant, the man who +fought at your right hand for many years. I have heard by a messenger +that the Syed Abdulla is coming to-night, perhaps late; for those things +must be done secretly, lest the white man, the trader up the river, +should know of them. But he will be here. There has been a surat +delivered to Lakamba. In it, Syed Abdulla says he will leave his ship, +which is anchored outside the river, at the hour of noon to-day. He will +be here before daylight if Allah wills.” + +He spoke with his eye fixed on the ground, and did not become aware of +Aissa’s presence till he lifted his head when he ceased speaking. She +had approached so quietly that even Omar did not hear her footsteps, and +she stood now looking at them with troubled eyes and parted lips, as +if she was going to speak; but at Babalatchi’s entreating gesture she +remained silent. Omar sat absorbed in thought. + +“Ay wa! Even so!” he said at last, in a weak voice. “I am to speak +your wisdom, O Babalatchi! Tell him to trust the white man! I do not +understand. I am old and blind and weak. I do not understand. I am very +cold,” he continued, in a lower tone, moving his shoulders uneasily. He +ceased, then went on rambling in a faint whisper. “They are the sons of +witches, and their father is Satan the stoned. Sons of witches. Sons +of witches.” After a short silence he asked suddenly, in a firmer +voice--“How many white men are there here, O crafty one?” + +“There are two here. Two white men to fight one another,” answered +Babalatchi, with alacrity. + +“And how many will be left then? How many? Tell me, you who are wise.” + +“The downfall of an enemy is the consolation of the unfortunate,” said +Babalatchi, sententiously. “They are on every sea; only the wisdom of +the Most High knows their number--but you shall know that some of them +suffer.” + +“Tell me, Babalatchi, will they die? Will they both die?” asked Omar, in +sudden agitation. + +Aissa made a movement. Babalatchi held up a warning hand. + +“They shall, surely, die,” he said steadily, looking at the girl with +unflinching eye. + +“Ay wa! But die soon! So that I can pass my hand over their faces when +Allah has made them stiff.” + +“If such is their fate and yours,” answered Babalatchi, without +hesitation. “God is great!” + +A violent fit of coughing doubled Omar up, and he rocked himself to and +fro, wheezing and moaning in turns, while Babalatchi and the girl looked +at him in silence. Then he leaned back against the tree, exhausted. + +“I am alone, I am alone,” he wailed feebly, groping vaguely about with +his trembling hands. “Is there anybody near me? Is there anybody? I am +afraid of this strange place.” + +“I am by your side, O Leader of the brave,” said Babalatchi, touching +his shoulder lightly. “Always by your side as in the days when we both +were young: as in the time when we both went with arms in our hands.” + +“Has there been such a time, Babalatchi?” said Omar, wildly; “I have +forgotten. And now when I die there will be no man, no fearless man to +speak of his father’s bravery. There was a woman! A woman! And she has +forsaken me for an infidel dog. The hand of the Compassionate is heavy +on my head! Oh, my calamity! Oh, my shame!” + +He calmed down after a while, and asked quietly-- + +“Is the sun set, Babalatchi?” + +“It is now as low as the highest tree I can see from here,” answered +Babalatchi. + +“It is the time of prayer,” said Omar, attempting to get up. + +Dutifully Babalatchi helped his old chief to rise, and they walked +slowly towards the hut. Omar waited outside, while Babalatchi went in +and came out directly, dragging after him the old Arab’s praying +carpet. Out of a brass vessel he poured the water of ablution on +Omar’s outstretched hands, and eased him carefully down into a kneeling +posture, for the venerable robber was far too infirm to be able to +stand. Then as Omar droned out the first words and made his first bow +towards the Holy City, Babalatchi stepped noiselessly towards Aissa, who +did not move all the time. + +Aissa looked steadily at the one-eyed sage, who was approaching her +slowly and with a great show of deference. For a moment they stood +facing each other in silence. Babalatchi appeared embarrassed. With a +sudden and quick gesture she caught hold of his arm, and with the other +hand pointed towards the sinking red disc that glowed, rayless, through +the floating mists of the evening. + +“The third sunset! The last! And he is not here,” she whispered; “what +have you done, man without faith? What have you done?” + +“Indeed I have kept my word,” murmured Babalatchi, earnestly. “This +morning Bulangi went with a canoe to look for him. He is a strange +man, but our friend, and shall keep close to him and watch him without +ostentation. And at the third hour of the day I have sent another canoe +with four rowers. Indeed, the man you long for, O daughter of Omar! may +come when he likes.” + +“But he is not here! I waited for him yesterday. To-day! To-morrow I +shall go.” + +“Not alive!” muttered Babalatchi to himself. “And do you doubt your +power,” he went on in a louder tone--“you that to him are more beautiful +than an houri of the seventh Heaven? He is your slave.” + +“A slave does run away sometimes,” she said, gloomily, “and then the +master must go and seek him out.” + +“And do you want to live and die a beggar?” asked Babalatchi, +impatiently. + +“I care not,” she exclaimed, wringing her hands; and the black pupils of +her wide-open eyes darted wildly here and there like petrels before the +storm. + +“Sh! Sh!” hissed Babalatchi, with a glance towards Omar. “Do you think, +O girl! that he himself would live like a beggar, even with you?” + +“He is great,” she said, ardently. “He despises you all! He despises you +all! He is indeed a man!” + +“You know that best,” muttered Babalatchi, with a fugitive smile--“but +remember, woman with the strong heart, that to hold him now you must be +to him like the great sea to thirsty men--a never-ceasing torment, and a +madness.” + +He ceased and they stood in silence, both looking on the ground, and +for a time nothing was heard above the crackling of the fire but the +intoning of Omar glorifying the God--his God, and the Faith--his faith. +Then Babalatchi cocked his head on one side and appeared to listen +intently to the hum of voices in the big courtyard. The dull noise +swelled into distinct shouts, then into a great tumult of voices, dying +away, recommencing, growing louder, to cease again abruptly; and in +those short pauses the shrill vociferations of women rushed up, as if +released, towards the quiet heaven. Aissa and Babalatchi started, but +the latter gripped in his turn the girl’s arm and restrained her with a +strong grasp. + +“Wait,” he whispered. + +The little door in the heavy stockade which separated Lakamba’s private +ground from Omar’s enclosure swung back quickly, and the noble exile +appeared with disturbed mien and a naked short sword in his hand. His +turban was half unrolled, and the end trailed on the ground behind him. +His jacket was open. He breathed thickly for a moment before he spoke. + +“He came in Bulangi’s boat,” he said, “and walked quietly till he was +in my presence, when the senseless fury of white men caused him to rush +upon me. I have been in great danger,” went on the ambitious nobleman +in an aggrieved tone. “Do you hear that, Babalatchi? That eater of swine +aimed a blow at my face with his unclean fist. He tried to rush amongst +my household. Six men are holding him now.” + +A fresh outburst of yells stopped Lakamba’s discourse. Angry voices +shouted: “Hold him. Beat him down. Strike at his head.” + +Then the clamour ceased with sudden completeness, as if strangled by +a mighty hand, and after a second of surprising silence the voice of +Willems was heard alone, howling maledictions in Malay, in Dutch, and in +English. + +“Listen,” said Lakamba, speaking with unsteady lips, “he blasphemes his +God. His speech is like the raving of a mad dog. Can we hold him for +ever? He must be killed!” + +“Fool!” muttered Babalatchi, looking up at Aissa, who stood with set +teeth, with gleaming eyes and distended nostrils, yet obedient to the +touch of his restraining hand. “It is the third day, and I have kept +my promise,” he said to her, speaking very low. “Remember,” he added +warningly--“like the sea to the thirsty! And now,” he said aloud, +releasing her and stepping back, “go, fearless daughter, go!” + +Like an arrow, rapid and silent she flew down the enclosure, and +disappeared through the gate of the courtyard. Lakamba and Babalatchi +looked after her. They heard the renewed tumult, the girl’s clear voice +calling out, “Let him go!” Then after a pause in the din no longer +than half the human breath the name of Aissa rang in a shout loud, +discordant, and piercing, which sent through them an involuntary +shudder. Old Omar collapsed on his carpet and moaned feebly; Lakamba +stared with gloomy contempt in the direction of the inhuman sound; but +Babalatchi, forcing a smile, pushed his distinguished protector through +the narrow gate in the stockade, followed him, and closed it quickly. + +The old woman, who had been most of the time kneeling by the fire, now +rose, glanced round fearfully and crouched hiding behind the tree. The +gate of the great courtyard flew open with a great clatter before a +frantic kick, and Willems darted in carrying Aissa in his arms. He +rushed up the enclosure like a tornado, pressing the girl to his breast, +her arms round his neck, her head hanging back over his arm, her eyes +closed and her long hair nearly touching the ground. They appeared for +a second in the glare of the fire, then, with immense strides, he dashed +up the planks and disappeared with his burden in the doorway of the big +house. + +Inside and outside the enclosure there was silence. Omar lay supporting +himself on his elbow, his terrified face with its closed eyes giving him +the appearance of a man tormented by a nightmare. + +“What is it? Help! Help me to rise!” he called out faintly. + +The old hag, still crouching in the shadow, stared with bleared eyes +at the doorway of the big house, and took no notice of his call. He +listened for a while, then his arm gave way, and, with a deep sigh of +discouragement, he let himself fall on the carpet. + +The boughs of the tree nodded and trembled in the unsteady currents of +the light wind. A leaf fluttered down slowly from some high branch and +rested on the ground, immobile, as if resting for ever, in the glow of +the fire; but soon it stirred, then soared suddenly, and flew, spinning +and turning before the breath of the perfumed breeze, driven helplessly +into the dark night that had closed over the land. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +For upwards of forty years Abdulla had walked in the way of his Lord. +Son of the rich Syed Selim bin Sali, the great Mohammedan trader of the +Straits, he went forth at the age of seventeen on his first commercial +expedition, as his father’s representative on board a pilgrim ship +chartered by the wealthy Arab to convey a crowd of pious Malays to the +Holy Shrine. That was in the days when steam was not in those seas--or, +at least, not so much as now. The voyage was long, and the young man’s +eyes were opened to the wonders of many lands. Allah had made it his +fate to become a pilgrim very early in life. This was a great favour +of Heaven, and it could not have been bestowed upon a man who prized it +more, or who made himself more worthy of it by the unswerving piety of +his heart and by the religious solemnity of his demeanour. Later on it +became clear that the book of his destiny contained the programme of a +wandering life. He visited Bombay and Calcutta, looked in at the Persian +Gulf, beheld in due course the high and barren coasts of the Gulf of +Suez, and this was the limit of his wanderings westward. He was then +twenty-seven, and the writing on his forehead decreed that the time had +come for him to return to the Straits and take from his dying father’s +hands the many threads of a business that was spread over all the +Archipelago: from Sumatra to New Guinea, from Batavia to Palawan. + +Very soon his ability, his will--strong to obstinacy--his wisdom beyond +his years, caused him to be recognized as the head of a family whose +members and connections were found in every part of those seas. An uncle +here--a brother there; a father-in-law in Batavia, another in Palembang; +husbands of numerous sisters; cousins innumerable scattered north, +south, east, and west--in every place where there was trade: the great +family lay like a network over the islands. They lent money to +princes, influenced the council-rooms, faced--if need be--with peaceful +intrepidity the white rulers who held the land and the sea under the +edge of sharp swords; and they all paid great deference to Abdulla, +listened to his advice, entered into his plans--because he was wise, +pious, and fortunate. + +He bore himself with the humility becoming a Believer, who never +forgets, even for one moment of his waking life, that he is the servant +of the Most High. He was largely charitable because the charitable man +is the friend of Allah, and when he walked out of his house--built of +stone, just outside the town of Penang--on his way to his godowns in the +port, he had often to snatch his hand away sharply from under the lips +of men of his race and creed; and often he had to murmur deprecating +words, or even to rebuke with severity those who attempted to touch his +knees with their finger-tips in gratitude or supplication. He was very +handsome, and carried his small head high with meek gravity. His lofty +brow, straight nose, narrow, dark face with its chiselled delicacy of +feature, gave him an aristocratic appearance which proclaimed his pure +descent. His beard was trimmed close and to a rounded point. His large +brown eyes looked out steadily with a sweetness that was belied by the +expression of his thin-lipped mouth. His aspect was serene. He had a +belief in his own prosperity which nothing could shake. + +Restless, like all his people, he very seldom dwelt for many days +together in his splendid house in Penang. Owner of ships, he was often +on board one or another of them, traversing in all directions the field +of his operations. In every port he had a household--his own or that +of a relation--to hail his advent with demonstrative joy. In every port +there were rich and influential men eager to see him, there was +business to talk over, there were important letters to read: an immense +correspondence, enclosed in silk envelopes--a correspondence which had +nothing to do with the infidels of colonial post-offices, but came into +his hands by devious, yet safe, ways. It was left for him by taciturn +nakhodas of native trading craft, or was delivered with profound salaams +by travel-stained and weary men who would withdraw from his presence +calling upon Allah to bless the generous giver of splendid rewards. And +the news was always good, and all his attempts always succeeded, and +in his ears there rang always a chorus of admiration, of gratitude, of +humble entreaties. + +A fortunate man. And his felicity was so complete that the good genii, +who ordered the stars at his birth, had not neglected--by a refinement +of benevolence strange in such primitive beings--to provide him with a +desire difficult to attain, and with an enemy hard to overcome. The envy +of Lingard’s political and commercial successes, and the wish to get the +best of him in every way, became Abdulla’s mania, the paramount interest +of his life, the salt of his existence. + +For the last few months he had been receiving mysterious messages from +Sambir urging him to decisive action. He had found the river a couple of +years ago, and had been anchored more than once off that estuary where +the, till then, rapid Pantai, spreading slowly over the lowlands, seems +to hesitate, before it flows gently through twenty outlets; over a maze +of mudflats, sandbanks and reefs, into the expectant sea. He had never +attempted the entrance, however, because men of his race, although brave +and adventurous travellers, lack the true seamanlike instincts, and he +was afraid of getting wrecked. He could not bear the idea of the Rajah +Laut being able to boast that Abdulla bin Selim, like other and lesser +men, had also come to grief when trying to wrest his secret from him. +Meantime he returned encouraging answers to his unknown friends in +Sambir, and waited for his opportunity in the calm certitude of ultimate +triumph. + +Such was the man whom Lakamba and Babalatchi expected to see for the +first time on the night of Willems’ return to Aissa. Babalatchi, who had +been tormented for three days by the fear of having over-reached +himself in his little plot, now, feeling sure of his white man, felt +lighthearted and happy as he superintended the preparations in the +courtyard for Abdulla’s reception. Half-way between Lakamba’s house and +the river a pile of dry wood was made ready for the torch that would +set fire to it at the moment of Abdulla’s landing. Between this and +the house again there was, ranged in a semicircle, a set of low +bamboo frames, and on those were piled all the carpets and cushions of +Lakamba’s household. It had been decided that the reception was to take +place in the open air, and that it should be made impressive by the +great number of Lakamba’s retainers, who, clad in clean white, with +their red sarongs gathered round their waists, chopper at side and lance +in hand, were moving about the compound or, gathering into small knots, +discussed eagerly the coming ceremony. + +Two little fires burned brightly on the water’s edge on each side of +the landing place. A small heap of damar-gum torches lay by each, and +between them Babalatchi strolled backwards and forwards, stopping often +with his face to the river and his head on one side, listening to the +sounds that came from the darkness over the water. There was no moon and +the night was very clear overhead, but, after the afternoon breeze had +expired in fitful puffs, the vapours hung thickening over the glancing +surface of the Pantai and clung to the shore, hiding from view the +middle of the stream. + +A cry in the mist--then another--and, before Babalatchi could answer, +two little canoes dashed up to the landing-place, and two of the +principal citizens of Sambir, Daoud Sahamin and Hamet Bahassoen, who had +been confidentially invited to meet Abdulla, landed quickly and after +greeting Babalatchi walked up the dark courtyard towards the house. The +little stir caused by their arrival soon subsided, and another silent +hour dragged its slow length while Babalatchi tramped up and down +between the fires, his face growing more anxious with every passing +moment. + +At last there was heard a loud hail from down the river. At a call from +Babalatchi men ran down to the riverside and, snatching the torches, +thrust them into the fires, then waved them above their heads till they +burst into a flame. The smoke ascended in thick, wispy streams, and hung +in a ruddy cloud above the glare that lit up the courtyard and flashed +over the water, showing three long canoes manned by many paddlers lying +a little off; the men in them lifting their paddles on high and dipping +them down together, in an easy stroke that kept the small flotilla +motionless in the strong current, exactly abreast of the landing-place. +A man stood up in the largest craft and called out-- + +“Syed Abdulla bin Selim is here!” + +Babalatchi answered aloud in a formal tone-- + +“Allah gladdens our hearts! Come to the land!” + +Abdulla landed first, steadying himself by the help of Babalatchi’s +extended hand. In the short moment of his passing from the boat to the +shore they exchanged sharp glances and a few rapid words. + +“Who are you?” + +“Babalatchi. The friend of Omar. The protected of Lakamba.” + +“You wrote?” + +“My words were written, O Giver of alms!” + +And then Abdulla walked with composed face between the two lines of +men holding torches, and met Lakamba in front of the big fire that was +crackling itself up into a great blaze. For a moment they stood with +clasped hands invoking peace upon each other’s head, then Lakamba, still +holding his honoured guest by the hand, led him round the fire to the +prepared seats. Babalatchi followed close behind his protector. Abdulla +was accompanied by two Arabs. He, like his companions, was dressed in a +white robe of starched muslin, which fell in stiff folds straight from +the neck. It was buttoned from the throat halfway down with a close row +of very small gold buttons; round the tight sleeves there was a narrow +braid of gold lace. On his shaven head he wore a small skull-cap of +plaited grass. He was shod in patent leather slippers over his naked +feet. A rosary of heavy wooden beads hung by a round turn from his right +wrist. He sat down slowly in the place of honour, and, dropping his +slippers, tucked up his legs under him decorously. + +The improvised divan was arranged in a wide semi-circle, of which the +point most distant from the fire--some ten yards--was also the nearest +to Lakamba’s dwelling. As soon as the principal personages were seated, +the verandah of the house was filled silently by the muffled-up forms of +Lakamba’s female belongings. They crowded close to the rail and looked +down, whispering faintly. Below, the formal exchange of compliments +went on for some time between Lakamba and Abdulla, who sat side by side. +Babalatchi squatted humbly at his protector’s feet, with nothing but a +thin mat between himself and the hard ground. + +Then there was a pause. Abdulla glanced round in an expectant manner, +and after a while Babalatchi, who had been sitting very still in a +pensive attitude, seemed to rouse himself with an effort, and began to +speak in gentle and persuasive tones. He described in flowing sentences +the first beginnings of Sambir, the dispute of the present ruler, +Patalolo, with the Sultan of Koti, the consequent troubles ending +with the rising of Bugis settlers under the leadership of Lakamba. At +different points of the narrative he would turn for confirmation to +Sahamin and Bahassoen, who sat listening eagerly and assented together +with a “Betul! Betul! Right! Right!” ejaculated in a fervent undertone. + +Warming up with his subject as the narrative proceeded, Babalatchi went +on to relate the facts connected with Lingard’s action at the critical +period of those internal dissensions. He spoke in a restrained voice +still, but with a growing energy of indignation. What was he, that +man of fierce aspect, to keep all the world away from them? Was he a +government? Who made him ruler? He took possession of Patalolo’s mind +and made his heart hard; he put severe words into his mouth and caused +his hand to strike right and left. That unbeliever kept the Faithful +panting under the weight of his senseless oppression. They had to trade +with him--accept such goods as he would give--such credit as he would +accord. And he exacted payment every year . . . + +“Very true!” exclaimed Sahamin and Bahassoen together. + +Babalatchi glanced at them approvingly and turned to Abdulla. + +“Listen to those men, O Protector of the oppressed!” he exclaimed. “What +could we do? A man must trade. There was nobody else.” + +Sahamin got up, staff in hand, and spoke to Abdulla with ponderous +courtesy, emphasizing his words by the solemn flourishes of his right +arm. + +“It is so. We are weary of paying our debts to that white man here, +who is the son of the Rajah Laut. That white man--may the grave of his +mother be defiled!--is not content to hold us all in his hand with a +cruel grasp. He seeks to cause our very death. He trades with the Dyaks +of the forest, who are no better than monkeys. He buys from them guttah +and rattans--while we starve. Only two days ago I went to him and +said, ‘Tuan Almayer’--even so; we must speak politely to that friend of +Satan--‘Tuan Almayer, I have such and such goods to sell. Will you buy?’ +And he spoke thus--because those white men have no understanding of any +courtesy--he spoke to me as if I was a slave: ‘Daoud, you are a lucky +man’--remark, O First amongst the Believers! that by those words he +could have brought misfortune on my head--‘you are a lucky man to have +anything in these hard times. Bring your goods quickly, and I shall +receive them in payment of what you owe me from last year.’ And he +laughed, and struck me on the shoulder with his open hand. May Jehannum +be his lot!” + +“We will fight him,” said young Bahassoen, crisply. “We shall fight if +there is help and a leader. Tuan Abdulla, will you come among us?” + +Abdulla did not answer at once. His lips moved in an inaudible whisper +and the beads passed through his fingers with a dry click. All waited in +respectful silence. “I shall come if my ship can enter this river,” said +Abdulla at last, in a solemn tone. + +“It can, Tuan,” exclaimed Babalatchi. “There is a white man here +who . . .” + +“I want to see Omar el Badavi and that white man you wrote about,” + interrupted Abdulla. + +Babalatchi got on his feet quickly, and there was a general move. + +The women on the verandah hurried indoors, and from the crowd that had +kept discreetly in distant parts of the courtyard a couple of men ran +with armfuls of dry fuel, which they cast upon the fire. One of them, at +a sign from Babalatchi, approached and, after getting his orders, went +towards the little gate and entered Omar’s enclosure. While waiting +for his return, Lakamba, Abdulla, and Babalatchi talked together in low +tones. Sahamin sat by himself chewing betel-nut sleepily with a slight +and indolent motion of his heavy jaw. Bahassoen, his hand on the hilt +of his short sword, strutted backwards and forwards in the full light of +the fire, looking very warlike and reckless; the envy and admiration of +Lakamba’s retainers, who stood in groups or flitted about noiselessly in +the shadows of the courtyard. + +The messenger who had been sent to Omar came back and stood at a +distance, waiting till somebody noticed him. Babalatchi beckoned him +close. + +“What are his words?” asked Babalatchi. + +“He says that Syed Abdulla is welcome now,” answered the man. + +Lakamba was speaking low to Abdulla, who listened to him with deep +interest. + +“. . . We could have eighty men if there was need,” he was +saying--“eighty men in fourteen canoes. The only thing we want is +gunpowder . . .” + +“Hai! there will be no fighting,” broke in Babalatchi. “The fear of your +name will be enough and the terror of your coming.” + +“There may be powder too,” muttered Abdulla with great nonchalance, “if +only the ship enters the river safely.” + +“If the heart is stout the ship will be safe,” said Babalatchi. “We will +go now and see Omar el Badavi and the white man I have here.” + +Lakamba’s dull eyes became animated suddenly. + +“Take care, Tuan Abdulla,” he said, “take care. The behaviour of that +unclean white madman is furious in the extreme. He offered to +strike . . .” + +“On my head, you are safe, O Giver of alms!” interrupted Babalatchi. + +Abdulla looked from one to the other, and the faintest flicker of a +passing smile disturbed for a moment his grave composure. He turned to +Babalatchi, and said with decision-- + +“Let us go.” + +“This way, O Uplifter of our hearts!” rattled on Babalatchi, with fussy +deference. “Only a very few paces and you shall behold Omar the brave, +and a white man of great strength and cunning. This way.” + +He made a sign for Lakamba to remain behind, and with respectful touches +on the elbow steered Abdulla towards the gate at the upper end of the +court-yard. As they walked on slowly, followed by the two Arabs, he kept +on talking in a rapid undertone to the great man, who never looked at +him once, although appearing to listen with flattering attention. When +near the gate Babalatchi moved forward and stopped, facing Abdulla, with +his hand on the fastenings. + +“You shall see them both,” he said. “All my words about them are true. +When I saw him enslaved by the one of whom I spoke, I knew he would be +soft in my hand like the mud of the river. At first he answered my +talk with bad words of his own language, after the manner of white +men. Afterwards, when listening to the voice he loved, he hesitated. +He hesitated for many days--too many. I, knowing him well, made Omar +withdraw here with his . . . household. Then this red-faced man raged +for three days like a black panther that is hungry. And this evening, +this very evening, he came. I have him here. He is in the grasp of one +with a merciless heart. I have him here,” ended Babalatchi, exultingly +tapping the upright of the gate with his hand. + +“That is good,” murmured Abdulla. + +“And he shall guide your ship and lead in the fight--if fight there be,” + went on Babalatchi. “If there is any killing--let him be the slayer. You +should give him arms--a short gun that fires many times.” + +“Yes, by Allah!” assented Abdulla, with slow thoughtfulness. + +“And you will have to open your hand, O First amongst the generous!” + continued Babalatchi. “You will have to satisfy the rapacity of a +white man, and also of one who is not a man, and therefore greedy of +ornaments.” + +“They shall be satisfied,” said Abdulla; “but . . .” He hesitated, +looking down on the ground and stroking his beard, while Babalatchi +waited, anxious, with parted lips. After a short time he spoke again +jerkily in an indistinct whisper, so that Babalatchi had to turn his +head to catch the words. “Yes. But Omar is the son of my father’s uncle +. . . and all belonging to him are of the Faith . . . while that man is +an unbeliever. It is most unseemly . . . very unseemly. He cannot live +under my shadow. Not that dog. Penitence! I take refuge with my God,” he +mumbled rapidly. “How can he live under my eyes with that woman, who is +of the Faith? Scandal! O abomination!” + +He finished with a rush and drew a long breath, then added dubiously-- + +“And when that man has done all we want, what is to be done with him?” + +They stood close together, meditative and silent, their eyes roaming +idly over the courtyard. The big bonfire burned brightly, and a wavering +splash of light lay on the dark earth at their feet, while the lazy +smoke wreathed itself slowly in gleaming coils amongst the black boughs +of the trees. They could see Lakamba, who had returned to his place, +sitting hunched up spiritlessly on the cushions, and Sahamin, who had +got on his feet again and appeared to be talking to him with dignified +animation. Men in twos or threes came out of the shadows into the light, +strolling slowly, and passed again into the shadows, their faces turned +to each other, their arms moving in restrained gestures. Bahassoen, his +head proudly thrown back, his ornaments, embroideries, and sword-hilt +flashing in the light, circled steadily round the fire like a planet +round the sun. A cool whiff of damp air came from the darkness of the +riverside; it made Abdulla and Babalatchi shiver, and woke them up from +their abstraction. + +“Open the gate and go first,” said Abdulla; “there is no danger?” + +“On my life, no!” answered Babalatchi, lifting the rattan ring. “He is +all peace and content, like a thirsty man who has drunk water after many +days.” + +He swung the gate wide, made a few paces into the gloom of the +enclosure, and retraced his steps suddenly. + +“He may be made useful in many ways,” he whispered to Abdulla, who had +stopped short, seeing him come back. + +“O Sin! O Temptation!” sighed out Abdulla, faintly. “Our refuge is with +the Most High. Can I feed this infidel for ever and for ever?” he added, +impatiently. + +“No,” breathed out Babalatchi. “No! Not for ever. Only while he serves +your designs, O Dispenser of Allah’s gifts! When the time comes--and +your order . . .” + +He sidled close to Abdulla, and brushed with a delicate touch the hand +that hung down listlessly, holding the prayer-beads. + +“I am your slave and your offering,” he murmured, in a distinct and +polite tone, into Abdulla’s ear. “When your wisdom speaks, there may be +found a little poison that will not lie. Who knows?” + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Babalatchi saw Abdulla pass through the low and narrow entrance into the +darkness of Omar’s hut; heard them exchange the usual greetings and +the distinguished visitor’s grave voice asking: “There is no +misfortune--please God--but the sight?” and then, becoming aware of +the disapproving looks of the two Arabs who had accompanied Abdulla, +he followed their example and fell back out of earshot. He did it +unwillingly, although he did not ignore that what was going to happen +in there was now absolutely beyond his control. He roamed irresolutely +about for awhile, and at last wandered with careless steps towards the +fire, which had been moved, from under the tree, close to the hut and a +little to windward of its entrance. He squatted on his heels and began +playing pensively with live embers, as was his habit when engrossed in +thought, withdrawing his hand sharply and shaking it above his head when +he burnt his fingers in a fit of deeper abstraction. Sitting there +he could hear the murmur of the talk inside the hut, and he could +distinguish the voices but not the words. Abdulla spoke in deep tones, +and now and then this flowing monotone was interrupted by a querulous +exclamation, a weak moan or a plaintive quaver of the old man. Yes. It +was annoying not to be able to make out what they were saying, thought +Babalatchi, as he sat gazing fixedly at the unsteady glow of the fire. +But it will be right. All will be right. Abdulla inspired him with +confidence. He came up fully to his expectation. From the very first +moment when he set his eye on him he felt sure that this man--whom he +had known by reputation only--was very resolute. Perhaps too resolute. +Perhaps he would want to grasp too much later on. A shadow flitted over +Babalatchi’s face. On the eve of the accomplishment of his desires he +felt the bitter taste of that drop of doubt which is mixed with the +sweetness of every success. + +When, hearing footsteps on the verandah of the big house, he lifted his +head, the shadow had passed away and on his face there was an expression +of watchful alertness. Willems was coming down the plankway, into the +courtyard. The light within trickled through the cracks of the badly +joined walls of the house, and in the illuminated doorway appeared +the moving form of Aissa. She also passed into the night outside and +disappeared from view. Babalatchi wondered where she had got to, and for +the moment forgot the approach of Willems. The voice of the white man +speaking roughly above his head made him jump to his feet as if impelled +upwards by a powerful spring. + +“Where’s Abdulla?” + +Babalatchi waved his hand towards the hut and stood listening intently. +The voices within had ceased, then recommenced again. He shot an oblique +glance at Willems, whose indistinct form towered above the glow of dying +embers. + +“Make up this fire,” said Willems, abruptly. “I want to see your face.” + +With obliging alacrity Babalatchi put some dry brushwood on the coals +from a handy pile, keeping all the time a watchful eye on Willems. +When he straightened himself up his hand wandered almost involuntarily +towards his left side to feel the handle of a kriss amongst the folds of +his sarong, but he tried to look unconcerned under the angry stare. + +“You are in good health, please God?” he murmured. + +“Yes!” answered Willems, with an unexpected loudness that caused +Babalatchi to start nervously. “Yes! . . . Health! . . . You . . .” + +He made a long stride and dropped both his hands on the Malay’s +shoulders. In the powerful grip Babalatchi swayed to and fro limply, but +his face was as peaceful as when he sat--a little while ago--dreaming by +the fire. With a final vicious jerk Willems let go suddenly, and turning +away on his heel stretched his hands over the fire. Babalatchi stumbled +backwards, recovered himself, and wriggled his shoulders laboriously. + +“Tse! Tse! Tse!” he clicked, deprecatingly. After a short silence he +went on with accentuated admiration: “What a man it is! What a strong +man! A man like that”--he concluded, in a tone of meditative wonder--“a +man like that could upset mountains--mountains!” + +He gazed hopefully for a while at Willems’ broad shoulders, and +continued, addressing the inimical back, in a low and persuasive voice-- + +“But why be angry with me? With me who think only of your good? Did I +not give her refuge, in my own house? Yes, Tuan! This is my own house. +I will let you have it without any recompense because she must have a +shelter. Therefore you and she shall live here. Who can know a woman’s +mind? And such a woman! If she wanted to go away from that other place, +who am I--to say no! I am Omar’s servant. I said: ‘Gladden my heart by +taking my house.’ Did I say right?” + +“I’ll tell you something,” said Willems, without changing his position; +“if she takes a fancy to go away from this place it is you who shall +suffer. I will wring your neck.” + +“When the heart is full of love there is no room in it for justice,” + recommenced Babalatchi, with unmoved and persistent softness. “Why slay +me? You know, Tuan, what she wants. A splendid destiny is her desire--as +of all women. You have been wronged and cast out by your people. She +knows that. But you are brave, you are strong--you are a man; and, +Tuan--I am older than you--you are in her hand. Such is the fate of +strong men. And she is of noble birth and cannot live like a slave. You +know her--and you are in her hand. You are like a snared bird, because +of your strength. And--remember I am a man that has seen much--submit, +Tuan! Submit! . . . Or else . . .” + +He drawled out the last words in a hesitating manner and broke off his +sentence. Still stretching his hands in turns towards the blaze and +without moving his head, Willems gave a short, lugubrious laugh, and +asked-- + +“Or else what?” + +“She may go away again. Who knows?” finished Babalatchi, in a gentle and +insinuating tone. + +This time Willems spun round sharply. Babalatchi stepped back. + +“If she does it will be the worse for you,” said Willems, in a menacing +voice. “It will be your doing, and I . . .” + +Babalatchi spoke, from beyond the circle of light, with calm disdain. + +“Hai--ya! I have heard before. If she goes--then I die. Good! Will that +bring her back do you think--Tuan? If it is my doing it shall be well +done, O white man! and--who knows--you will have to live without her.” + +Willems gasped and started back like a confident wayfarer who, pursuing +a path he thinks safe, should see just in time a bottomless chasm +under his feet. Babalatchi came into the light and approached Willems +sideways, with his head thrown back and a little on one side so as to +bring his only eye to bear full on the countenance of the tall white +man. + +“You threaten me,” said Willems, indistinctly. + +“I, Tuan!” exclaimed Babalatchi, with a slight suspicion of irony in the +affected surprise of his tone. “I, Tuan? Who spoke of death? Was it +I? No! I spoke of life only. Only of life. Of a long life for a lonely +man!” + +They stood with the fire between them, both silent, both aware, each +in his own way, of the importance of the passing minutes. Babalatchi’s +fatalism gave him only an insignificant relief in his suspense, because +no fatalism can kill the thought of the future, the desire of success, +the pain of waiting for the disclosure of the immutable decrees of +Heaven. Fatalism is born of the fear of failure, for we all believe that +we carry success in our own hands, and we suspect that our hands are +weak. Babalatchi looked at Willems and congratulated himself upon his +ability to manage that white man. There was a pilot for Abdulla--a +victim to appease Lingard’s anger in case of any mishap. He would take +good care to put him forward in everything. In any case let the white +men fight it out amongst themselves. They were fools. He hated them--the +strong fools--and knew that for his righteous wisdom was reserved the +safe triumph. + +Willems measured dismally the depth of his degradation. He--a white man, +the admired of white men, was held by those miserable savages whose tool +he was about to become. He felt for them all the hate of his race, of +his morality, of his intelligence. He looked upon himself with dismay +and pity. She had him. He had heard of such things. He had heard of +women who . . . He would never believe such stories. . . . Yet they +were true. But his own captivity seemed more complete, terrible, and +final--without the hope of any redemption. He wondered at the wickedness +of Providence that had made him what he was; that, worse still, +permitted such a creature as Almayer to live. He had done his duty by +going to him. Why did he not understand? All men were fools. He gave +him his chance. The fellow did not see it. It was hard, very hard on +himself--Willems. He wanted to take her from amongst her own people. +That’s why he had condescended to go to Almayer. He examined himself. +With a sinking heart he thought that really he could not--somehow--live +without her. It was terrible and sweet. He remembered the first days. +Her appearance, her face, her smile, her eyes, her words. A savage +woman! Yet he perceived that he could think of nothing else but of the +three days of their separation, of the few hours since their reunion. +Very well. If he could not take her away, then he would go to her. . . . +He had, for a moment, a wicked pleasure in the thought that what he had +done could not be undone. He had given himself up. He felt proud of it. +He was ready to face anything, do anything. He cared for nothing, for +nobody. He thought himself very fearless, but as a matter of fact he was +only drunk; drunk with the poison of passionate memories. + +He stretched his hands over the fire, looked round and called out-- + +“Aissa!” + +She must have been near, for she appeared at once within the light of +the fire. The upper part of her body was wrapped up in the thick folds +of a head covering which was pulled down over her brow, and one end of +it thrown across from shoulder to shoulder hid the lower part of her +face. Only her eyes were visible--sombre and gleaming like a starry +night. + +Willems, looking at this strange, muffled figure, felt exasperated, +amazed and helpless. The ex-confidential clerk of the rich Hudig would +hug to his breast settled conceptions of respectable conduct. He sought +refuge within his ideas of propriety from the dismal mangroves, from +the darkness of the forests and of the heathen souls of the savages that +were his masters. She looked like an animated package of cheap cotton +goods! It made him furious. She had disguised herself so because a man +of her race was near! He told her not to do it, and she did not obey. +Would his ideas ever change so as to agree with her own notions of what +was becoming, proper and respectable? He was really afraid they +would, in time. It seemed to him awful. She would never change! This +manifestation of her sense of proprieties was another sign of their +hopeless diversity; something like another step downwards for him. She +was too different from him. He was so civilized! It struck him suddenly +that they had nothing in common--not a thought, not a feeling; he could +not make clear to her the simplest motive of any act of his . . . and he +could not live without her. + +The courageous man who stood facing Babalatchi gasped unexpectedly with +a gasp that was half a groan. This little matter of her veiling +herself against his wish acted upon him like a disclosure of some +great disaster. It increased his contempt for himself as the slave of +a passion he had always derided, as the man unable to assert his will. +This will, all his sensations, his personality--all this seemed to be +lost in the abominable desire, in the priceless promise of that woman. +He was not, of course, able to discern clearly the causes of his misery; +but there are none so ignorant as not to know suffering, none so simple +as not to feel and suffer from the shock of warring impulses. The +ignorant must feel and suffer from their complexity as well as the +wisest; but to them the pain of struggle and defeat appears strange, +mysterious, remediable and unjust. He stood watching her, watching +himself. He tingled with rage from head to foot, as if he had been +struck in the face. Suddenly he laughed; but his laugh was like a +distorted echo of some insincere mirth very far away. + +From the other side of the fire Babalatchi spoke hurriedly-- + +“Here is Tuan Abdulla.” + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +Directly on stepping outside Omar’s hut Abdulla caught sight of Willems. +He expected, of course, to see a white man, but not that white man, whom +he knew so well. Everybody who traded in the islands, and who had any +dealings with Hudig, knew Willems. For the last two years of his stay in +Macassar the confidential clerk had been managing all the local trade +of the house under a very slight supervision only on the part of the +master. So everybody knew Willems, Abdulla amongst others--but he was +ignorant of Willems’ disgrace. As a matter of fact the thing had been +kept very quiet--so quiet that a good many people in Macassar were +expecting Willems’ return there, supposing him to be absent on some +confidential mission. Abdulla, in his surprise, hesitated on the +threshold. He had prepared himself to see some seaman--some old officer +of Lingard’s; a common man--perhaps difficult to deal with, but still +no match for him. Instead, he saw himself confronted by an individual +whose reputation for sagacity in business was well known to him. How did +he get here, and why? Abdulla, recovering from his surprise, advanced in +a dignified manner towards the fire, keeping his eyes fixed steadily on +Willems. When within two paces from Willems he stopped and lifted his +right hand in grave salutation. Willems nodded slightly and spoke after +a while. + +“We know each other, Tuan Abdulla,” he said, with an assumption of easy +indifference. + +“We have traded together,” answered Abdulla, solemnly, “but it was far +from here.” + +“And we may trade here also,” said Willems. + +“The place does not matter. It is the open mind and the true heart that +are required in business.” + +“Very true. My heart is as open as my mind. I will tell you why I am +here.” + +“What need is there? In leaving home one learns life. You travel. +Travelling is victory! You shall return with much wisdom.” + +“I shall never return,” interrupted Willems. “I have done with my +people. I am a man without brothers. Injustice destroys fidelity.” + +Abdulla expressed his surprise by elevating his eyebrows. At the same +time he made a vague gesture with his arm that could be taken as an +equivalent of an approving and conciliating “just so!” + +Till then the Arab had not taken any notice of Aissa, who stood by the +fire, but now she spoke in the interval of silence following Willems’ +declaration. In a voice that was much deadened by her wrappings she +addressed Abdulla in a few words of greeting, calling him a kinsman. +Abdulla glanced at her swiftly for a second, and then, with perfect +good breeding, fixed his eyes on the ground. She put out towards him her +hand, covered with a corner of her face-veil, and he took it, pressed it +twice, and dropping it turned towards Willems. She looked at the two +men searchingly, then backed away and seemed to melt suddenly into the +night. + +“I know what you came for, Tuan Abdulla,” said Willems; “I have been +told by that man there.” He nodded towards Babalatchi, then went on +slowly, “It will be a difficult thing.” + +“Allah makes everything easy,” interjected Babalatchi, piously, from a +distance. + +The two men turned quickly and stood looking at him thoughtfully, as +if in deep consideration of the truth of that proposition. Under their +sustained gaze Babalatchi experienced an unwonted feeling of shyness, +and dared not approach nearer. At last Willems moved slightly, Abdulla +followed readily, and they both walked down the courtyard, their voices +dying away in the darkness. Soon they were heard returning, and the +voices grew distinct as their forms came out of the gloom. By the fire +they wheeled again, and Babalatchi caught a few words. Willems was +saying-- + +“I have been at sea with him many years when young. I have used my +knowledge to observe the way into the river when coming in, this time.” + +Abdulla assented in general terms. + +“In the variety of knowledge there is safety,” he said; and then they +passed out of earshot. + +Babalatchi ran to the tree and took up his position in the solid +blackness under its branches, leaning against the trunk. There he was +about midway between the fire and the other limit of the two men’s walk. +They passed him close. Abdulla slim, very straight, his head high, and +his hands hanging before him and twisting mechanically the string of +beads; Willems tall, broad, looking bigger and stronger in contrast to +the slight white figure by the side of which he strolled carelessly, +taking one step to the other’s two; his big arms in constant motion as +he gesticulated vehemently, bending forward to look Abdulla in the face. + +They passed and repassed close to Babalatchi some half a dozen times, +and, whenever they were between him and the fire, he could see them +plain enough. Sometimes they would stop short, Willems speaking +emphatically, Abdulla listening with rigid attention, then, when the +other had ceased, bending his head slightly as if consenting to some +demand, or admitting some statement. Now and then Babalatchi caught +a word here and there, a fragment of a sentence, a loud exclamation. +Impelled by curiosity he crept to the very edge of the black shadow +under the tree. They were nearing him, and he heard Willems say-- + +“You will pay that money as soon as I come on board. That I must have.” + +He could not catch Abdulla’s reply. When they went past again, Willems +was saying-- + +“My life is in your hand anyway. The boat that brings me on board your +ship shall take the money to Omar. You must have it ready in a sealed +bag.” + +Again they were out of hearing, but instead of coming back they stopped +by the fire facing each other. Willems moved his arm, shook his hand +on high talking all the time, then brought it down jerkily--stamped his +foot. A short period of immobility ensued. Babalatchi, gazing intently, +saw Abdulla’s lips move almost imperceptibly. Suddenly Willems seized +the Arab’s passive hand and shook it. Babalatchi drew the long breath of +relieved suspense. The conference was over. All well, apparently. + +He ventured now to approach the two men, who saw him and waited in +silence. Willems had retired within himself already, and wore a look of +grim indifference. Abdulla moved away a step or two. Babalatchi looked +at him inquisitively. + +“I go now,” said Abdulla, “and shall wait for you outside the river, +Tuan Willems, till the second sunset. You have only one word, I know.” + +“Only one word,” repeated Willems. + +Abdulla and Babalatchi walked together down the enclosure, leaving the +white man alone by the fire. The two Arabs who had come with Abdulla +preceded them and passed at once through the little gate into the light +and the murmur of voices of the principal courtyard, but Babalatchi and +Abdulla stopped on this side of it. Abdulla said-- + +“It is well. We have spoken of many things. He consents.” + +“When?” asked Babalatchi, eagerly. + +“On the second day from this. I have promised every thing. I mean to +keep much.” + +“Your hand is always open, O Most Generous amongst Believers! You will +not forget your servant who called you here. Have I not spoken the +truth? She has made roast meat of his heart.” + +With a horizontal sweep of his arm Abdulla seemed to push away that last +statement, and said slowly, with much meaning-- + +“He must be perfectly safe; do you understand? Perfectly safe--as if he +was amongst his own people--till . . .” + +“Till when?” whispered Babalatchi. + +“Till I speak,” said Abdulla. “As to Omar.” He hesitated for a moment, +then went on very low: “He is very old.” + +“Hai-ya! Old and sick,” murmured Babalatchi, with sudden melancholy. + +“He wanted me to kill that white man. He begged me to have him killed at +once,” said Abdulla, contemptuously, moving again towards the gate. + +“He is impatient, like those who feel death near them,” exclaimed +Babalatchi, apologetically. + +“Omar shall dwell with me,” went on Abdulla, “when . . . But no matter. +Remember! The white man must be safe.” + +“He lives in your shadow,” answered Babalatchi, solemnly. “It is +enough!” He touched his forehead and fell back to let Abdulla go first. + +And now they are back in the courtyard wherefrom, at their appearance, +listlessness vanishes, and all the faces become alert and interested +once more. Lakamba approaches his guest, but looks at Babalatchi, who +reassures him by a confident nod. Lakamba clumsily attempts a smile, +and looking, with natural and ineradicable sulkiness, from under his +eyebrows at the man whom he wants to honour, asks whether he would +condescend to visit the place of sitting down and take food. Or perhaps +he would prefer to give himself up to repose? The house is his, and what +is in it, and those many men that stand afar watching the interview are +his. Syed Abdulla presses his host’s hand to his breast, and informs him +in a confidential murmur that his habits are ascetic and his temperament +inclines to melancholy. No rest; no food; no use whatever for those +many men who are his. Syed Abdulla is impatient to be gone. Lakamba is +sorrowful but polite, in his hesitating, gloomy way. Tuan Abdulla must +have fresh boatmen, and many, to shorten the dark and fatiguing road. +Hai-ya! There! Boats! + +By the riverside indistinct forms leap into a noisy and disorderly +activity. There are cries, orders, banter, abuse. Torches blaze sending +out much more smoke than light, and in their red glare Babalatchi comes +up to say that the boats are ready. + +Through that lurid glare Syed Abdulla, in his long white gown, seems +to glide fantastically, like a dignified apparition attended by two +inferior shades, and stands for a moment at the landing-place to +take leave of his host and ally--whom he loves. Syed Abdulla says so +distinctly before embarking, and takes his seat in the middle of the +canoe under a small canopy of blue calico stretched on four sticks. +Before and behind Syed Abdulla, the men squatting by the gunwales hold +high the blades of their paddles in readiness for a dip, all together. +Ready? Not yet. Hold on all! Syed Abdulla speaks again, while Lakamba +and Babalatchi stand close on the bank to hear his words. His words are +encouraging. Before the sun rises for the second time they shall meet, +and Syed Abdulla’s ship shall float on the waters of this river--at +last! Lakamba and Babalatchi have no doubt--if Allah wills. They are in +the hands of the Compassionate. No doubt. And so is Syed Abdulla, the +great trader who does not know what the word failure means; and so is +the white man--the smartest business man in the islands--who is lying +now by Omar’s fire with his head on Aissa’s lap, while Syed Abdulla +flies down the muddy river with current and paddles between the sombre +walls of the sleeping forest; on his way to the clear and open sea where +the Lord of the Isles (formerly of Greenock, but condemned, sold, and +registered now as of Penang) waits for its owner, and swings erratically +at anchor in the currents of the capricious tide, under the crumbling +red cliffs of Tanjong Mirrah. + +For some time Lakamba, Sahamin, and Bahassoen looked silently into the +humid darkness which had swallowed the big canoe that carried Abdulla +and his unvarying good fortune. Then the two guests broke into a talk +expressive of their joyful anticipations. The venerable Sahamin, as +became his advanced age, found his delight in speculation as to the +activities of a rather remote future. He would buy praus, he would send +expeditions up the river, he would enlarge his trade, and, backed by +Abdulla’s capital, he would grow rich in a very few years. Very few. +Meantime it would be a good thing to interview Almayer to-morrow and, +profiting by the last day of the hated man’s prosperity, obtain some +goods from him on credit. Sahamin thought it could be done by skilful +wheedling. After all, that son of Satan was a fool, and the thing was +worth doing, because the coming revolution would wipe all debts out. +Sahamin did not mind imparting that idea to his companions, with much +senile chuckling, while they strolled together from the riverside +towards the residence. The bull-necked Lakamba, listening with pouted +lips without the sign of a smile, without a gleam in his dull, bloodshot +eyes, shuffled slowly across the courtyard between his two guests. But +suddenly Bahassoen broke in upon the old man’s prattle with the generous +enthusiasm of his youth. . . . Trading was very good. But was the +change that would make them happy effected yet? The white man should be +despoiled with a strong hand! . . . He grew excited, spoke very loud, +and his further discourse, delivered with his hand on the hilt of his +sword, dealt incoherently with the honourable topics of throat-cutting, +fire-raising, and with the far-famed valour of his ancestors. + +Babalatchi remained behind, alone with the greatness of his conceptions. +The sagacious statesman of Sambir sent a scornful glance after his noble +protector and his noble protector’s friends, and then stood meditating +about that future which to the others seemed so assured. Not so to +Babalatchi, who paid the penalty of his wisdom by a vague sense of +insecurity that kept sleep at arm’s length from his tired body. When he +thought at last of leaving the waterside, it was only to strike a path +for himself and to creep along the fences, avoiding the middle of the +courtyard where small fires glimmered and winked as though the sinister +darkness there had reflected the stars of the serene heaven. He slunk +past the wicket-gate of Omar’s enclosure, and crept on patiently along +the light bamboo palisade till he was stopped by the angle where it +joined the heavy stockade of Lakamba’s private ground. Standing there, +he could look over the fence and see Omar’s hut and the fire before its +door. He could also see the shadow of two human beings sitting between +him and the red glow. A man and a woman. The sight seemed to inspire the +careworn sage with a frivolous desire to sing. It could hardly be called +a song; it was more in the nature of a recitative without any rhythm, +delivered rapidly but distinctly in a croaking and unsteady voice; and +if Babalatchi considered it a song, then it was a song with a purpose +and, perhaps for that reason, artistically defective. It had all the +imperfections of unskilful improvisation and its subject was gruesome. +It told a tale of shipwreck and of thirst, and of one brother killing +another for the sake of a gourd of water. A repulsive story which might +have had a purpose but possessed no moral whatever. Yet it must have +pleased Babalatchi for he repeated it twice, the second time even in +louder tones than at first, causing a disturbance amongst the white +rice-birds and the wild fruit-pigeons which roosted on the boughs of +the big tree growing in Omar’s compound. There was in the thick foliage +above the singer’s head a confused beating of wings, sleepy remarks in +bird-language, a sharp stir of leaves. The forms by the fire moved; the +shadow of the woman altered its shape, and Babalatchi’s song was cut +short abruptly by a fit of soft and persistent coughing. He did not try +to resume his efforts after that interruption, but went away stealthily +to seek--if not sleep--then, at least, repose. + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +As soon as Abdulla and his companions had left the enclosure, Aissa +approached Willems and stood by his side. He took no notice of her +expectant attitude till she touched him gently, when he turned furiously +upon her and, tearing off her face-veil, trampled upon it as though +it had been a mortal enemy. She looked at him with the faint smile of +patient curiosity, with the puzzled interest of ignorance watching the +running of a complicated piece of machinery. After he had exhausted his +rage, he stood again severe and unbending looking down at the fire, but +the touch of her fingers at the nape of his neck effaced instantly the +hard lines round his mouth; his eyes wavered uneasily; his lips trembled +slightly. Starting with the unresisting rapidity of a particle of +iron--which, quiescent one moment, leaps in the next to a powerful +magnet--he moved forward, caught her in his arms and pressed her +violently to his breast. He released her as suddenly, and she stumbled a +little, stepped back, breathed quickly through her parted lips, and said +in a tone of pleased reproof-- + +“O Fool-man! And if you had killed me in your strong arms what would you +have done?” + +“You want to live . . . and to run away from me again,” he said gently. +“Tell me--do you?” + +She moved towards him with very short steps, her head a little on one +side, hands on hips, with a slight balancing of her body: an approach +more tantalizing than an escape. He looked on, eager--charmed. She spoke +jestingly. + +“What am I to say to a man who has been away three days from me? Three!” + she repeated, holding up playfully three fingers before Willems’ eyes. +He snatched at the hand, but she was on her guard and whisked it behind +her back. + +“No!” she said. “I cannot be caught. But I will come. I am coming myself +because I like. Do not move. Do not touch me with your mighty hands, O +child!” + +As she spoke she made a step nearer, then another. Willems did not stir. +Pressing against him she stood on tiptoe to look into his eyes, and +her own seemed to grow bigger, glistening and tender, appealing and +promising. With that look she drew the man’s soul away from him through +his immobile pupils, and from Willems’ features the spark of reason +vanished under her gaze and was replaced by an appearance of physical +well-being, an ecstasy of the senses which had taken possession of his +rigid body; an ecstasy that drove out regrets, hesitation and doubt, +and proclaimed its terrible work by an appalling aspect of idiotic +beatitude. He never stirred a limb, hardly breathed, but stood in stiff +immobility, absorbing the delight of her close contact by every pore. + +“Closer! Closer!” he murmured. + +Slowly she raised her arms, put them over his shoulders, and clasping +her hands at the back of his neck, swung off the full length of her +arms. Her head fell back, the eyelids dropped slightly, and her thick +hair hung straight down: a mass of ebony touched by the red gleams of +the fire. He stood unyielding under the strain, as solid and motionless +as one of the big trees of the surrounding forests; and his eyes +looked at the modelling of her chin, at the outline of her neck, at +the swelling lines of her bosom, with the famished and concentrated +expression of a starving man looking at food. She drew herself up to him +and rubbed her head against his cheek slowly and gently. He sighed. She, +with her hands still on his shoulders, glanced up at the placid stars +and said-- + +“The night is half gone. We shall finish it by this fire. By this +fire you shall tell me all: your words and Syed Abdulla’s words; and +listening to you I shall forget the three days--because I am good. Tell +me--am I good?” + +He said “Yes” dreamily, and she ran off towards the big house. + +When she came back, balancing a roll of fine mats on her head, he had +replenished the fire and was ready to help her in arranging a couch +on the side of it nearest to the hut. She sank down with a quick but +gracefully controlled movement, and he threw himself full length with +impatient haste, as if he wished to forestall somebody. She took his +head on her knees, and when he felt her hands touching his face, her +fingers playing with his hair, he had an expression of being taken +possession of; he experienced a sense of peace, of rest, of happiness, +and of soothing delight. His hands strayed upwards about her neck, and +he drew her down so as to have her face above his. Then he whispered--“I +wish I could die like this--now!” She looked at him with her big sombre +eyes, in which there was no responsive light. His thought was so remote +from her understanding that she let the words pass by unnoticed, like +the breath of the wind, like the flight of a cloud. Woman though +she was, she could not comprehend, in her simplicity, the tremendous +compliment of that speech, that whisper of deadly happiness, so +sincere, so spontaneous, coming so straight from the heart--like every +corruption. It was the voice of madness, of a delirious peace, of +happiness that is infamous, cowardly, and so exquisite that the debased +mind refuses to contemplate its termination: for to the victims of such +happiness the moment of its ceasing is the beginning afresh of that +torture which is its price. + +With her brows slightly knitted in the determined preoccupation of her +own desires, she said-- + +“Now tell me all. All the words spoken between you and Syed Abdulla.” + +Tell what? What words? Her voice recalled back the consciousness that +had departed under her touch, and he became aware of the passing minutes +every one of which was like a reproach; of those minutes that falling, +slow, reluctant, irresistible into the past, marked his footsteps on the +way to perdition. Not that he had any conviction about it, any notion of +the possible ending on that painful road. It was an indistinct feeling, +a threat of suffering like the confused warning of coming disease, +an inarticulate monition of evil made up of fear and pleasure, of +resignation and of revolt. He was ashamed of his state of mind. After +all, what was he afraid of? Were those scruples? Why that hesitation to +think, to speak of what he intended doing? Scruples were for imbeciles. +His clear duty was to make himself happy. Did he ever take an oath of +fidelity to Lingard? No. Well then--he would not let any interest of +that old fool stand between Willems and Willems’ happiness. Happiness? +Was he not, perchance, on a false track? Happiness meant money. Much +money. At least he had always thought so till he had experienced those +new sensations which . . . + +Aissa’s question, repeated impatiently, interrupted his musings, and +looking up at her face shining above him in the dim light of the fire +he stretched his limbs luxuriously and obedient to her desire, he spoke +slowly and hardly above his breath. She, with her head close to his +lips, listened absorbed, interested, in attentive immobility. The many +noises of the great courtyard were hushed up gradually by the sleep that +stilled all voices and closed all eyes. Then somebody droned out a song +with a nasal drawl at the end of every verse. He stirred. She put her +hand suddenly on his lips and sat upright. There was a feeble coughing, +a rustle of leaves, and then a complete silence took possession of the +land; a silence cold, mournful, profound; more like death than peace; +more hard to bear than the fiercest tumult. As soon as she removed her +hand he hastened to speak, so insupportable to him was that stillness +perfect and absolute in which his thoughts seemed to ring with the +loudness of shouts. + +“Who was there making that noise?” he asked. + +“I do not know. He is gone now,” she answered, hastily. “Tell me, you +will not return to your people; not without me. Not with me. Do you +promise?” + +“I have promised already. I have no people of my own. Have I not told +you, that you are everybody to me?” + +“Ah, yes,” she said, slowly, “but I like to hear you say that +again--every day, and every night, whenever I ask; and never to be angry +because I ask. I am afraid of white women who are shameless and have +fierce eyes.” She scanned his features close for a moment and added: + +“Are they very beautiful? They must be.” + +“I do not know,” he whispered, thoughtfully. “And if I ever did know, +looking at you I have forgotten.” + +“Forgotten! And for three days and two nights you have forgotten me +also! Why? Why were you angry with me when I spoke at first of Tuan +Abdulla, in the days when we lived beside the brook? You remembered +somebody then. Somebody in the land whence you come. Your tongue is +false. You are white indeed, and your heart is full of deception. I know +it. And yet I cannot help believing you when you talk of your love for +me. But I am afraid!” + +He felt flattered and annoyed by her vehemence, and said-- + +“Well, I am with you now. I did come back. And it was you that went +away.” + +“When you have helped Abdulla against the Rajah Laut, who is the first +of white men, I shall not be afraid any more,” she whispered. + +“You must believe what I say when I tell you that there never was +another woman; that there is nothing for me to regret, and nothing but +my enemies to remember.” + +“Where do you come from?” she said, impulsive and inconsequent, in a +passionate whisper. “What is that land beyond the great sea from which +you come? A land of lies and of evil from which nothing but misfortune +ever comes to us--who are not white. Did you not at first ask me to go +there with you? That is why I went away.” + +“I shall never ask you again.” + +“And there is no woman waiting for you there?” + +“No!” said Willems, firmly. + +She bent over him. Her lips hovered above his face and her long hair +brushed his cheeks. + +“You taught me the love of your people which is of the Devil,” she +murmured, and bending still lower, she said faintly, “Like this?” + +“Yes, like this!” he answered very low, in a voice that trembled +slightly with eagerness; and she pressed suddenly her lips to his while +he closed his eyes in an ecstasy of delight. + +There was a long interval of silence. She stroked his head with gentle +touches, and he lay dreamily, perfectly happy but for the annoyance of +an indistinct vision of a well-known figure; a man going away from him +and diminishing in a long perspective of fantastic trees, whose every +leaf was an eye looking after that man, who walked away growing smaller, +but never getting out of sight for all his steady progress. He felt a +desire to see him vanish, a hurried impatience of his disappearance, and +he watched for it with a careful and irksome effort. There was something +familiar about that figure. Why! Himself! He gave a sudden start and +opened his eyes, quivering with the emotion of that quick return from so +far, of finding himself back by the fire with the rapidity of a flash of +lightning. It had been half a dream; he had slumbered in her arms for +a few seconds. Only the beginning of a dream--nothing more. But it was +some time before he recovered from the shock of seeing himself go away +so deliberately, so definitely, so unguardedly; and going away--where? +Now, if he had not woke up in time he would never have come back again +from there; from whatever place he was going to. He felt indignant. It +was like an evasion, like a prisoner breaking his parole--that thing +slinking off stealthily while he slept. He was very indignant, and was +also astonished at the absurdity of his own emotions. + +She felt him tremble, and murmuring tender words, pressed his head +to her breast. Again he felt very peaceful with a peace that was as +complete as the silence round them. He muttered-- + +“You are tired, Aissa.” + +She answered so low that it was like a sigh shaped into faint words. + +“I shall watch your sleep, O child!” + +He lay very quiet, and listened to the beating of her heart. That sound, +light, rapid, persistent, and steady; her very life beating against his +cheek, gave him a clear perception of secure ownership, strengthened his +belief in his possession of that human being, was like an assurance of +the vague felicity of the future. There were no regrets, no doubts, +no hesitation now. Had there ever been? All that seemed far away, ages +ago--as unreal and pale as the fading memory of some delirium. All the +anguish, suffering, strife of the past days; the humiliation and anger +of his downfall; all that was an infamous nightmare, a thing born in +sleep to be forgotten and leave no trace--and true life was this: this +dreamy immobility with his head against her heart that beat so steadily. + +He was broad awake now, with that tingling wakefulness of the tired body +which succeeds to the few refreshing seconds of irresistible sleep, and +his wide-open eyes looked absently at the doorway of Omar’s hut. The +reed walls glistened in the light of the fire, the smoke of which, thin +and blue, drifted slanting in a succession of rings and spirals across +the doorway, whose empty blackness seemed to him impenetrable and +enigmatical like a curtain hiding vast spaces full of unexpected +surprises. This was only his fancy, but it was absorbing enough to make +him accept the sudden appearance of a head, coming out of the gloom, as +part of his idle fantasy or as the beginning of another short dream, +of another vagary of his overtired brain. A face with drooping eyelids, +old, thin, and yellow, above the scattered white of a long beard that +touched the earth. A head without a body, only a foot above the ground, +turning slightly from side to side on the edge of the circle of light +as if to catch the radiating heat of the fire on either cheek in +succession. He watched it in passive amazement, growing distinct, as if +coming nearer to him, and the confused outlines of a body crawling +on all fours came out, creeping inch by inch towards the fire, with +a silent and all but imperceptible movement. He was astounded at the +appearance of that blind head dragging that crippled body behind, +without a sound, without a change in the composure of the sightless +face, which was plain one second, blurred the next in the play of the +light that drew it to itself steadily. A mute face with a kriss between +its lips. This was no dream. Omar’s face. But why? What was he after? + +He was too indolent in the happy languor of the moment to answer the +question. It darted through his brain and passed out, leaving him +free to listen again to the beating of her heart; to that precious and +delicate sound which filled the quiet immensity of the night. Glancing +upwards he saw the motionless head of the woman looking down at him in +a tender gleam of liquid white between the long eyelashes, whose shadow +rested on the soft curve of her cheek; and under the caress of that +look, the uneasy wonder and the obscure fear of that apparition, +crouching and creeping in turns towards the fire that was its guide, +were lost--were drowned in the quietude of all his senses, as pain is +drowned in the flood of drowsy serenity that follows upon a dose of +opium. + +He altered the position of his head by ever so little, and now could see +easily that apparition which he had seen a minute before and had nearly +forgotten already. It had moved closer, gliding and noiseless like the +shadow of some nightmare, and now it was there, very near, motionless +and still as if listening; one hand and one knee advanced; the neck +stretched out and the head turned full towards the fire. He could see +the emaciated face, the skin shiny over the prominent bones, the black +shadows of the hollow temples and sunken cheeks, and the two patches of +blackness over the eyes, over those eyes that were dead and could not +see. What was the impulse which drove out this blind cripple into +the night to creep and crawl towards that fire? He looked at him, +fascinated, but the face, with its shifting lights and shadows, let out +nothing, closed and impenetrable like a walled door. + +Omar raised himself to a kneeling posture and sank on his heels, with +his hands hanging down before him. Willems, looking out of his dreamy +numbness, could see plainly the kriss between the thin lips, a bar +across the face; the handle on one side where the polished wood caught a +red gleam from the fire and the thin line of the blade running to a dull +black point on the other. He felt an inward shock, which left his body +passive in Aissa’s embrace, but filled his breast with a tumult of +powerless fear; and he perceived suddenly that it was his own death that +was groping towards him; that it was the hate of himself and the hate of +her love for him which drove this helpless wreck of a once brilliant and +resolute pirate, to attempt a desperate deed that would be the glorious +and supreme consolation of an unhappy old age. And while he looked, +paralyzed with dread, at the father who had resumed his cautious +advance--blind like fate, persistent like destiny--he listened with +greedy eagerness to the heart of the daughter beating light, rapid, and +steady against his head. + +He was in the grip of horrible fear; of a fear whose cold hand robs its +victim of all will and of all power; of all wish to escape, to resist, +or to move; which destroys hope and despair alike, and holds the empty +and useless carcass as if in a vise under the coming stroke. It was not +the fear of death--he had faced danger before--it was not even the fear +of that particular form of death. It was not the fear of the end, for he +knew that the end would not come then. A movement, a leap, a shout would +save him from the feeble hand of the blind old man, from that hand that +even now was, with cautious sweeps along the ground, feeling for his +body in the darkness. It was the unreasoning fear of this glimpse +into the unknown things, into those motives, impulses, desires he had +ignored, but that had lived in the breasts of despised men, close by his +side, and were revealed to him for a second, to be hidden again behind +the black mists of doubt and deception. It was not death that frightened +him: it was the horror of bewildered life where he could understand +nothing and nobody round him; where he could guide, control, comprehend +nothing and no one--not even himself. + +He felt a touch on his side. That contact, lighter than the caress of a +mother’s hand on the cheek of a sleeping child, had for him the force of +a crushing blow. Omar had crept close, and now, kneeling above him, held +the kriss in one hand while the other skimmed over his jacket up towards +his breast in gentle touches; but the blind face, still turned to +the heat of the fire, was set and immovable in its aspect of stony +indifference to things it could not hope to see. With an effort Willems +took his eyes off the deathlike mask and turned them up to Aissa’s head. +She sat motionless as if she had been part of the sleeping earth, then +suddenly he saw her big sombre eyes open out wide in a piercing stare +and felt the convulsive pressure of her hands pinning his arms along +his body. A second dragged itself out, slow and bitter, like a day of +mourning; a second full of regret and grief for that faith in her which +took its flight from the shattered ruins of his trust. She was holding +him! She too! He felt her heart give a great leap, his head slipped down +on her knees, he closed his eyes and there was nothing. Nothing! It was +as if she had died; as though her heart had leaped out into the night, +abandoning him, defenceless and alone, in an empty world. + +His head struck the ground heavily as she flung him aside in her sudden +rush. He lay as if stunned, face up and, daring not move, did not see +the struggle, but heard the piercing shriek of mad fear, her low angry +words; another shriek dying out in a moan. When he got up at last he +looked at Aissa kneeling over her father, he saw her bent back in the +effort of holding him down, Omar’s contorted limbs, a hand thrown up +above her head and her quick movement grasping the wrist. He made an +impulsive step forward, but she turned a wild face to him and called out +over her shoulder-- + +“Keep back! Do not come near! Do not. . . .” + +And he stopped short, his arms hanging lifelessly by his side, as if +those words had changed him into stone. She was afraid of his possible +violence, but in the unsettling of all his convictions he was struck +with the frightful thought that she preferred to kill her father all +by herself; and the last stage of their struggle, at which he looked +as though a red fog had filled his eyes, loomed up with an unnatural +ferocity, with a sinister meaning; like something monstrous and +depraved, forcing its complicity upon him under the cover of that awful +night. He was horrified and grateful; drawn irresistibly to her--and +ready to run away. He could not move at first--then he did not want +to stir. He wanted to see what would happen. He saw her lift, with +a tremendous effort, the apparently lifeless body into the hut, and +remained standing, after they disappeared, with the vivid image in his +eyes of that head swaying on her shoulder, the lower jaw hanging down, +collapsed, passive, meaningless, like the head of a corpse. + +Then after a while he heard her voice speaking inside, harshly, with an +agitated abruptness of tone; and in answer there were groans and +broken murmurs of exhaustion. She spoke louder. He heard her saying +violently--“No! No! Never!” + +And again a plaintive murmur of entreaty as of some one begging for a +supreme favour, with a last breath. Then she said-- + +“Never! I would sooner strike it into my own heart.” + +She came out, stood panting for a short moment in the doorway, and then +stepped into the firelight. Behind her, through the darkness came the +sound of words calling the vengeance of heaven on her head, rising +higher, shrill, strained, repeating the curse over and over again--till +the voice cracked in a passionate shriek that died out into hoarse +muttering ending with a deep and prolonged sigh. She stood facing +Willems, one hand behind her back, the other raised in a gesture +compelling attention, and she listened in that attitude till all was +still inside the hut. Then she made another step forward and her hand +dropped slowly. + +“Nothing but misfortune,” she whispered, absently, to herself. “Nothing +but misfortune to us who are not white.” The anger and excitement died +out of her face, and she looked straight at Willems with an intense and +mournful gaze. + +He recovered his senses and his power of speech with a sudden start. + +“Aissa,” he exclaimed, and the words broke out through his lips with +hurried nervousness. “Aissa! How can I live here? Trust me. Believe in +me. Let us go away from here. Go very far away! Very far; you and I!” + +He did not stop to ask himself whether he could escape, and how, and +where. He was carried away by the flood of hate, disgust, and contempt +of a white man for that blood which is not his blood, for that race +which is not his race; for the brown skins; for the hearts false like +the sea, blacker than night. This feeling of repulsion overmastered his +reason in a clear conviction of the impossibility for him to live with +her people. He urged her passionately to fly with him because out of all +that abhorred crowd he wanted this one woman, but wanted her away from +them, away from that race of slaves and cut-throats from which she +sprang. He wanted her for himself--far from everybody, in some safe and +dumb solitude. And as he spoke his anger and contempt rose, his hate +became almost fear; and his desire of her grew immense, burning, +illogical and merciless; crying to him through all his senses; +louder than his hate, stronger than his fear, deeper than his +contempt--irresistible and certain like death itself. + +Standing at a little distance, just within the light--but on the +threshold of that darkness from which she had come--she listened, one +hand still behind her back, the other arm stretched out with the hand +half open as if to catch the fleeting words that rang around her, +passionate, menacing, imploring, but all tinged with the anguish of his +suffering, all hurried by the impatience that gnawed his breast. And +while she listened she felt a slowing down of her heart-beats as the +meaning of his appeal grew clearer before her indignant eyes, as she saw +with rage and pain the edifice of her love, her own work, crumble slowly +to pieces, destroyed by that man’s fears, by that man’s falseness. Her +memory recalled the days by the brook when she had listened to other +words--to other thoughts--to promises and to pleadings for other things, +which came from that man’s lips at the bidding of her look or her smile, +at the nod of her head, at the whisper of her lips. Was there then in +his heart something else than her image, other desires than the desires +of her love, other fears than the fear of losing her? How could that be? +Had she grown ugly or old in a moment? She was appalled, surprised and +angry with the anger of unexpected humiliation; and her eyes looked +fixedly, sombre and steady, at that man born in the land of violence +and of evil wherefrom nothing but misfortune comes to those who are not +white. Instead of thinking of her caresses, instead of forgetting all +the world in her embrace, he was thinking yet of his people; of that +people that steals every land, masters every sea, that knows no mercy +and no truth--knows nothing but its own strength. O man of strong arm +and of false heart! Go with him to a far country, be lost in the throng +of cold eyes and false hearts--lose him there! Never! He was mad--mad +with fear; but he should not escape her! She would keep him here a slave +and a master; here where he was alone with her; where he must live for +her--or die. She had a right to his love which was of her making, to the +love that was in him now, while he spoke those words without sense. She +must put between him and other white men a barrier of hate. He must not +only stay, but he must also keep his promise to Abdulla, the fulfilment +of which would make her safe. + +“Aissa, let us go! With you by my side I would attack them with my naked +hands. Or no! Tomorrow we shall be outside, on board Abdulla’s ship. +You shall come with me and then I could . . . If the ship went ashore by +some chance, then we could steal a canoe and escape in the confusion. +. . . You are not afraid of the sea . . . of the sea that would give me +freedom . . .” + +He was approaching her gradually with extended arms, while he pleaded +ardently in incoherent words that ran over and tripped each other in the +extreme eagerness of his speech. She stepped back, keeping her distance, +her eyes on his face, watching on it the play of his doubts and of his +hopes with a piercing gaze, that seemed to search out the innermost +recesses of his thought; and it was as if she had drawn slowly the +darkness round her, wrapping herself in its undulating folds that made +her indistinct and vague. He followed her step by step till at last they +both stopped, facing each other under the big tree of the enclosure. +The solitary exile of the forests, great, motionless and solemn in his +abandonment, left alone by the life of ages that had been pushed away +from him by those pigmies that crept at his foot, towered high and +straight above their heads. He seemed to look on, dispassionate and +imposing, in his lonely greatness, spreading his branches wide in a +gesture of lofty protection, as if to hide them in the sombre shelter +of innumerable leaves; as if moved by the disdainful compassion of the +strong, by the scornful pity of an aged giant, to screen this struggle +of two human hearts from the cold scrutiny of glittering stars. + +The last cry of his appeal to her mercy rose loud, vibrated under the +sombre canopy, darted among the boughs startling the white birds that +slept wing to wing--and died without an echo, strangled in the dense +mass of unstirring leaves. He could not see her face, but he heard +her sighs and the distracted murmur of indistinct words. Then, as he +listened holding his breath, she exclaimed suddenly-- + +“Have you heard him? He has cursed me because I love you. You brought +me suffering and strife--and his curse. And now you want to take me far +away where I would lose you, lose my life; because your love is my +life now. What else is there? Do not move,” she cried violently, as he +stirred a little--“do not speak! Take this! Sleep in peace!” + +He saw a shadowy movement of her arm. Something whizzed past and struck +the ground behind him, close to the fire. Instinctively he turned round +to look at it. A kriss without its sheath lay by the embers; a sinuous +dark object, looking like something that had been alive and was now +crushed, dead and very inoffensive; a black wavy outline very distinct +and still in the dull red glow. Without thinking he moved to pick it up, +stooping with the sad and humble movement of a beggar gathering the +alms flung into the dust of the roadside. Was this the answer to his +pleading, to the hot and living words that came from his heart? Was this +the answer thrown at him like an insult, that thing made of wood and +iron, insignificant and venomous, fragile and deadly? He held it by the +blade and looked at the handle stupidly for a moment before he let +it fall again at his feet; and when he turned round he faced only the +night:--the night immense, profound and quiet; a sea of darkness in +which she had disappeared without leaving a trace. + +He moved forward with uncertain steps, putting out both his hands before +him with the anguish of a man blinded suddenly. + +“Aissa!” he cried--“come to me at once.” + +He peered and listened, but saw nothing, heard nothing. After a while +the solid blackness seemed to wave before his eyes like a curtain +disclosing movements but hiding forms, and he heard light and hurried +footsteps, then the short clatter of the gate leading to Lakamba’s +private enclosure. He sprang forward and brought up against the rough +timber in time to hear the words, “Quick! Quick!” and the sound of the +wooden bar dropped on the other side, securing the gate. With his arms +thrown up, the palms against the paling, he slid down in a heap on the +ground. + +“Aissa,” he said, pleadingly, pressing his lips to a chink between the +stakes. “Aissa, do you hear me? Come back! I will do what you want, give +you all you desire--if I have to set the whole Sambir on fire and put +that fire out with blood. Only come back. Now! At once! Are you there? +Do you hear me? Aissa!” + +On the other side there were startled whispers of feminine voices; a +frightened little laugh suddenly interrupted; some woman’s admiring +murmur--“This is brave talk!” Then after a short silence Aissa cried-- + +“Sleep in peace--for the time of your going is near. Now I am afraid of +you. Afraid of your fear. When you return with Tuan Abdulla you shall +be great. You will find me here. And there will be nothing but love. +Nothing else!--Always!--Till we die!” + +He listened to the shuffle of footsteps going away, and staggered to his +feet, mute with the excess of his passionate anger against that being +so savage and so charming; loathing her, himself, everybody he had +ever known; the earth, the sky, the very air he drew into his oppressed +chest; loathing it because it made him live, loathing her because she +made him suffer. But he could not leave that gate through which she had +passed. He wandered a little way off, then swerved round, came back and +fell down again by the stockade only to rise suddenly in another attempt +to break away from the spell that held him, that brought him back there, +dumb, obedient and furious. And under the immobilized gesture of lofty +protection in the branches outspread wide above his head, under the +high branches where white birds slept wing to wing in the shelter of +countless leaves, he tossed like a grain of dust in a whirlwind--sinking +and rising--round and round--always near that gate. All through the +languid stillness of that night he fought with the impalpable; he fought +with the shadows, with the darkness, with the silence. He fought without +a sound, striking futile blows, dashing from side to side; obstinate, +hopeless, and always beaten back; like a man bewitched within the +invisible sweep of a magic circle. + + + + +PART III + + +CHAPTER ONE + +“Yes! Cat, dog, anything that can scratch or bite; as long as it is +harmful enough and mangy enough. A sick tiger would make you happy--of +all things. A half-dead tiger that you could weep over and palm upon +some poor devil in your power, to tend and nurse for you. Never mind +the consequences--to the poor devil. Let him be mangled or eaten up, of +course! You haven’t any pity to spare for the victims of your infernal +charity. Not you! Your tender heart bleeds only for what is poisonous +and deadly. I curse the day when you set your benevolent eyes on him. I +curse it . . .” + +“Now then! Now then!” growled Lingard in his moustache. Almayer, who had +talked himself up to the choking point, drew a long breath and went on-- + +“Yes! It has been always so. Always. As far back as I can remember. +Don’t you recollect? What about that half-starved dog you brought on +board in Bankok in your arms. In your arms by . . . ! It went mad next +day and bit the serang. You don’t mean to say you have forgotten? The +best serang you ever had! You said so yourself while you were helping +us to lash him down to the chain-cable, just before he died in his fits. +Now, didn’t you? Two wives and ever so many children the man left. That +was your doing. . . . And when you went out of your way and risked +your ship to rescue some Chinamen from a water-logged junk in Formosa +Straits, that was also a clever piece of business. Wasn’t it? Those +damned Chinamen rose on you before forty-eight hours. They were +cut-throats, those poor fishermen. You knew they were cut-throats before +you made up your mind to run down on a lee shore in a gale of wind +to save them. A mad trick! If they hadn’t been scoundrels--hopeless +scoundrels--you would not have put your ship in jeopardy for them, I +know. You would not have risked the lives of your crew--that crew you +loved so--and your own life. Wasn’t that foolish! And, besides, you were +not honest. Suppose you had been drowned? I would have been in a pretty +mess then, left alone here with that adopted daughter of yours. Your +duty was to myself first. I married that girl because you promised to +make my fortune. You know you did! And then three months afterwards you +go and do that mad trick--for a lot of Chinamen too. Chinamen! You have +no morality. I might have been ruined for the sake of those murderous +scoundrels that, after all, had to be driven overboard after killing +ever so many of your crew--of your beloved crew! Do you call that +honest?” + +“Well, well!” muttered Lingard, chewing nervously the stump of his +cheroot that had gone out and looking at Almayer--who stamped wildly +about the verandah--much as a shepherd might look at a pet sheep in +his obedient flock turning unexpectedly upon him in enraged revolt. He +seemed disconcerted, contemptuously angry yet somewhat amused; and also +a little hurt as if at some bitter jest at his own expense. Almayer +stopped suddenly, and crossing his arms on his breast, bent his body +forward and went on speaking. + +“I might have been left then in an awkward hole--all on account of your +absurd disregard for your safety--yet I bore no grudge. I knew your +weaknesses. But now--when I think of it! Now we are ruined. Ruined! +Ruined! My poor little Nina. Ruined!” + +He slapped his thighs smartly, walked with small steps this way and +that, seized a chair, planted it with a bang before Lingard, and sat +down staring at the old seaman with haggard eyes. Lingard, returning his +stare steadily, dived slowly into various pockets, fished out at last a +box of matches and proceeded to light his cheroot carefully, rolling it +round and round between his lips, without taking his gaze for a moment +off the distressed Almayer. Then from behind a cloud of tobacco smoke he +said calmly-- + +“If you had been in trouble as often as I have, my boy, you wouldn’t +carry on so. I have been ruined more than once. Well, here I am.” + +“Yes, here you are,” interrupted Almayer. “Much good it is to me. Had +you been here a month ago it would have been of some use. But now! . . +You might as well be a thousand miles off.” + +“You scold like a drunken fish-wife,” said Lingard, serenely. He got up +and moved slowly to the front rail of the verandah. The floor shook and +the whole house vibrated under his heavy step. For a moment he stood +with his back to Almayer, looking out on the river and forest of the +east bank, then turned round and gazed mildly down upon him. + +“It’s very lonely this morning here. Hey?” he said. + +Almayer lifted up his head. + +“Ah! you notice it--don’t you? I should think it is lonely! Yes, Captain +Lingard, your day is over in Sambir. Only a month ago this verandah +would have been full of people coming to greet you. Fellows would be +coming up those steps grinning and salaaming--to you and to me. But our +day is over. And not by my fault either. You can’t say that. It’s all +the doing of that pet rascal of yours. Ah! He is a beauty! You should +have seen him leading that hellish crowd. You would have been proud of +your old favourite.” + +“Smart fellow that,” muttered Lingard, thoughtfully. Almayer jumped up +with a shriek. + +“And that’s all you have to say! Smart fellow! O Lord!” + +“Don’t make a show of yourself. Sit down. Let’s talk quietly. I want to +know all about it. So he led?” + +“He was the soul of the whole thing. He piloted Abdulla’s ship in. He +ordered everything and everybody,” said Almayer, who sat down again, +with a resigned air. + +“When did it happen--exactly?” + +“On the sixteenth I heard the first rumours of Abdulla’s ship being in +the river; a thing I refused to believe at first. Next day I could not +doubt any more. There was a great council held openly in Lakamba’s place +where almost everybody in Sambir attended. On the eighteenth the Lord of +the Isles was anchored in Sambir reach, abreast of my house. Let’s see. +Six weeks to-day, exactly.” + +“And all that happened like this? All of a sudden. You never heard +anything--no warning. Nothing. Never had an idea that something was up? +Come, Almayer!” + +“Heard! Yes, I used to hear something every day. Mostly lies. Is there +anything else in Sambir?” + +“You might not have believed them,” observed Lingard. “In fact you ought +not to have believed everything that was told to you, as if you had been +a green hand on his first voyage.” + +Almayer moved in his chair uneasily. + +“That scoundrel came here one day,” he said. “He had been away from the +house for a couple of months living with that woman. I only heard about +him now and then from Patalolo’s people when they came over. Well one +day, about noon, he appeared in this courtyard, as if he had been jerked +up from hell-where he belongs.” + +Lingard took his cheroot out, and, with his mouth full of white smoke +that oozed out through his parted lips, listened, attentive. After a +short pause Almayer went on, looking at the floor moodily-- + +“I must say he looked awful. Had a bad bout of the ague probably. The +left shore is very unhealthy. Strange that only the breadth of the river +. . .” + +He dropped off into deep thoughtfulness as if he had forgotten his +grievances in a bitter meditation upon the unsanitary condition of the +virgin forests on the left bank. Lingard took this opportunity to expel +the smoke in a mighty expiration and threw the stump of his cheroot over +his shoulder. + +“Go on,” he said, after a while. “He came to see you . . .” + +“But it wasn’t unhealthy enough to finish him, worse luck!” went on +Almayer, rousing himself, “and, as I said, he turned up here with his +brazen impudence. He bullied me, he threatened vaguely. He wanted +to scare me, to blackmail me. Me! And, by heaven--he said you would +approve. You! Can you conceive such impudence? I couldn’t exactly make +out what he was driving at. Had I known, I would have approved him. Yes! +With a bang on the head. But how could I guess that he knew enough to +pilot a ship through the entrance you always said was so difficult. And, +after all, that was the only danger. I could deal with anybody here--but +when Abdulla came. . . . That barque of his is armed. He carries twelve +brass six-pounders, and about thirty men. Desperate beggars. Sumatra +men, from Deli and Acheen. Fight all day and ask for more in the +evening. That kind.” + +“I know, I know,” said Lingard, impatiently. + +“Of course, then, they were cheeky as much as you please after he +anchored abreast of our jetty. Willems brought her up himself in +the best berth. I could see him from this verandah standing forward, +together with the half-caste master. And that woman was there too. Close +to him. I heard they took her on board off Lakamba’s place. Willems said +he would not go higher without her. Stormed and raged. Frightened them, +I believe. Abdulla had to interfere. She came off alone in a canoe, and +no sooner on deck than she fell at his feet before all hands, embraced +his knees, wept, raved, begged his pardon. Why? I wonder. Everybody in +Sambir is talking of it. They never heard tell or saw anything like it. +I have all this from Ali, who goes about in the settlement and brings me +the news. I had better know what is going on--hadn’t I? From what I +can make out, they--he and that woman--are looked upon as something +mysterious--beyond comprehension. Some think them mad. They live alone +with an old woman in a house outside Lakamba’s campong and are greatly +respected--or feared, I should say rather. At least, he is. He is very +violent. She knows nobody, sees nobody, will speak to nobody but him. +Never leaves him for a moment. It’s the talk of the place. There are +other rumours. From what I hear I suspect that Lakamba and Abdulla are +tired of him. There’s also talk of him going away in the Lord of the +Isles--when she leaves here for the southward--as a kind of Abdulla’s +agent. At any rate, he must take the ship out. The half-caste is not +equal to it as yet.” + +Lingard, who had listened absorbed till then, began now to walk with +measured steps. Almayer ceased talking and followed him with his eyes as +he paced up and down with a quarter-deck swing, tormenting and twisting +his long white beard, his face perplexed and thoughtful. + +“So he came to you first of all, did he?” asked Lingard, without +stopping. + +“Yes. I told you so. He did come. Came to extort money, goods--I don’t +know what else. Wanted to set up as a trader--the swine! I kicked his +hat into the courtyard, and he went after it, and that was the last of +him till he showed up with Abdulla. How could I know that he could do +harm in that way? Or in any way at that! Any local rising I could put +down easy with my own men and with Patalolo’s help.” + +“Oh! yes. Patalolo. No good. Eh? Did you try him at all?” + +“Didn’t I!” exclaimed Almayer. “I went to see him myself on the twelfth. +That was four days before Abdulla entered the river. In fact, same day +Willems tried to get at me. I did feel a little uneasy then. Patalolo +assured me that there was no human being that did not love me in Sambir. +Looked as wise as an owl. Told me not to listen to the lies of wicked +people from down the river. He was alluding to that man Bulangi, who +lives up the sea reach, and who had sent me word that a strange ship was +anchored outside--which, of course, I repeated to Patalolo. He would not +believe. Kept on mumbling ‘No! No! No!’ like an old parrot, his head all +of a tremble, all beslobbered with betel-nut juice. I thought there was +something queer about him. Seemed so restless, and as if in a hurry to +get rid of me. Well. Next day that one-eyed malefactor who lives with +Lakamba--what’s his name--Babalatchi, put in an appearance here! Came +about mid-day, casually like, and stood there on this verandah chatting +about one thing and another. Asking when I expected you, and so on. +Then, incidentally, he mentioned that they--his master and himself--were +very much bothered by a ferocious white man--my friend--who was hanging +about that woman--Omar’s daughter. Asked my advice. Very deferential and +proper. I told him the white man was not my friend, and that they had +better kick him out. Whereupon he went away salaaming, and protesting +his friendship and his master’s goodwill. Of course I know now the +infernal nigger came to spy and to talk over some of my men. Anyway, +eight were missing at the evening muster. Then I took alarm. Did not +dare to leave my house unguarded. You know what my wife is, don’t you? +And I did not care to take the child with me--it being late--so I sent +a message to Patalolo to say that we ought to consult; that there were +rumours and uneasiness in the settlement. Do you know what answer I +got?” + +Lingard stopped short in his walk before Almayer, who went on, after an +impressive pause, with growing animation. + +“All brought it: ‘The Rajah sends a friend’s greeting, and does not +understand the message.’ That was all. Not a word more could Ali get +out of him. I could see that Ali was pretty well scared. He hung about, +arranging my hammock--one thing and another. Then just before going +away he mentioned that the water-gate of the Rajah’s place was heavily +barred, but that he could see only very few men about the courtyard. +Finally he said, ‘There is darkness in our Rajah’s house, but no sleep. +Only darkness and fear and the wailing of women.’ Cheerful, wasn’t it? +It made me feel cold down my back somehow. After Ali slipped away I +stood here--by this table, and listened to the shouting and drumming in +the settlement. Racket enough for twenty weddings. It was a little past +midnight then.” + +Again Almayer stopped in his narrative with an abrupt shutting of lips, +as if he had said all that there was to tell, and Lingard stood staring +at him, pensive and silent. A big bluebottle fly flew in recklessly into +the cool verandah, and darted with loud buzzing between the two men. +Lingard struck at it with his hat. The fly swerved, and Almayer dodged +his head out of the way. Then Lingard aimed another ineffectual blow; +Almayer jumped up and waved his arms about. The fly buzzed desperately, +and the vibration of minute wings sounded in the peace of the early +morning like a far-off string orchestra accompanying the hollow, +determined stamping of the two men, who, with heads thrown back and +arms gyrating on high, or again bending low with infuriated lunges, were +intent upon killing the intruder. But suddenly the buzz died out in a +thin thrill away in the open space of the courtyard, leaving Lingard +and Almayer standing face to face in the fresh silence of the young day, +looking very puzzled and idle, their arms hanging uselessly by their +sides--like men disheartened by some portentous failure. + +“Look at that!” muttered Lingard. “Got away after all.” + +“Nuisance,” said Almayer in the same tone. “Riverside is overrun with +them. This house is badly placed . . . mosquitos . . . and these big +flies . . . . last week stung Nina . . . been ill four days . . . poor +child. . . . I wonder what such damned things are made for!” + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +After a long silence, during which Almayer had moved towards the table +and sat down, his head between his hands, staring straight before him, +Lingard, who had recommenced walking, cleared his throat and said-- + +“What was it you were saying?” + +“Ah! Yes! You should have seen this settlement that night. I don’t think +anybody went to bed. I walked down to the point, and could see them. +They had a big bonfire in the palm grove, and the talk went on there +till the morning. When I came back here and sat in the dark verandah in +this quiet house I felt so frightfully lonely that I stole in and took +the child out of her cot and brought her here into my hammock. If it +hadn’t been for her I am sure I would have gone mad; I felt so utterly +alone and helpless. Remember, I hadn’t heard from you for four months. +Didn’t know whether you were alive or dead. Patalolo would have nothing +to do with me. My own men were deserting me like rats do a sinking hulk. +That was a black night for me, Captain Lingard. A black night as I sat +here not knowing what would happen next. They were so excited and rowdy +that I really feared they would come and burn the house over my head. +I went and brought my revolver. Laid it loaded on the table. There were +such awful yells now and then. Luckily the child slept through it, and +seeing her so pretty and peaceful steadied me somehow. Couldn’t believe +there was any violence in this world, looking at her lying so quiet and +so unconscious of what went on. But it was very hard. Everything was at +an end. You must understand that on that night there was no government +in Sambir. Nothing to restrain those fellows. Patalolo had collapsed. I +was abandoned by my own people, and all that lot could vent their spite +on me if they wanted. They know no gratitude. How many times haven’t I +saved this settlement from starvation? Absolute starvation. Only three +months ago I distributed again a lot of rice on credit. There was +nothing to eat in this infernal place. They came begging on their +knees. There isn’t a man in Sambir, big or little, who is not in debt to +Lingard & Co. Not one. You ought to be satisfied. You always said +that was the right policy for us. Well, I carried it out. Ah! Captain +Lingard, a policy like that should be backed by loaded rifles . . .” + +“You had them!” exclaimed Lingard in the midst of his promenade, that +went on more rapid as Almayer talked: the headlong tramp of a man +hurrying on to do something violent. The verandah was full of dust, +oppressive and choking, which rose under the old seaman’s feet, and made +Almayer cough again and again. + +“Yes, I had! Twenty. And not a finger to pull a trigger. It’s easy to +talk,” he spluttered, his face very red. + +Lingard dropped into a chair, and leaned back with one hand stretched +out at length upon the table, the other thrown over the back of his +seat. The dust settled, and the sun surging above the forest flooded +the verandah with a clear light. Almayer got up and busied himself in +lowering the split rattan screens that hung between the columns of the +verandah. + +“Phew!” said Lingard, “it will be a hot day. That’s right, my boy. Keep +the sun out. We don’t want to be roasted alive here.” + +Almayer came back, sat down, and spoke very calmly-- + +“In the morning I went across to see Patalolo. I took the child with me, +of course. I found the water-gate barred, and had to walk round through +the bushes. Patalolo received me lying on the floor, in the dark, all +the shutters closed. I could get nothing out of him but lamentations +and groans. He said you must be dead. That Lakamba was coming now with +Abdulla’s guns to kill everybody. Said he did not mind being killed, +as he was an old man, but that the wish of his heart was to make a +pilgrimage. He was tired of men’s ingratitude--he had no heirs--he +wanted to go to Mecca and die there. He would ask Abdulla to let him go. +Then he abused Lakamba--between sobs--and you, a little. You prevented +him from asking for a flag that would have been respected--he was right +there--and now when his enemies were strong he was weak, and you were +not there to help him. When I tried to put some heart into him, telling +him he had four big guns--you know the brass six-pounders you left here +last year--and that I would get powder, and that, perhaps, together we +could make head against Lakamba, he simply howled at me. No matter which +way he turned--he shrieked--the white men would be the death of him, +while he wanted only to be a pilgrim and be at peace. My belief is,” + added Almayer, after a short pause, and fixing a dull stare upon +Lingard, “that the old fool saw this thing coming for a long time, and +was not only too frightened to do anything himself, but actually +too scared to let you or me know of his suspicions. Another of your +particular pets! Well! You have a lucky hand, I must say!” + +Lingard struck a sudden blow on the table with his clenched hand. There +was a sharp crack of splitting wood. Almayer started up violently, then +fell back in his chair and looked at the table. + +“There!” he said, moodily, “you don’t know your own strength. This table +is completely ruined. The only table I had been able to save from +my wife. By and by I will have to eat squatting on the floor like a +native.” + +Lingard laughed heartily. “Well then, don’t nag at me like a woman at a +drunken husband!” He became very serious after awhile, and added, “If +it hadn’t been for the loss of the Flash I would have been here three +months ago, and all would have been well. No use crying over that. Don’t +you be uneasy, Kaspar. We will have everything ship-shape here in a very +short time.” + +“What? You don’t mean to expel Abdulla out of here by force! I tell you, +you can’t.” + +“Not I!” exclaimed Lingard. “That’s all over, I am afraid. Great pity. +They will suffer for it. He will squeeze them. Great pity. Damn it! I +feel so sorry for them if I had the Flash here I would try force. Eh! +Why not? However, the poor Flash is gone, and there is an end of it. +Poor old hooker. Hey, Almayer? You made a voyage or two with me. Wasn’t +she a sweet craft? Could make her do anything but talk. She was better +than a wife to me. Never scolded. Hey? . . . And to think that it should +come to this. That I should leave her poor old bones sticking on a reef +as though I had been a damned fool of a southern-going man who must have +half a mile of water under his keel to be safe! Well! well! It’s only +those who do nothing that make no mistakes, I suppose. But it’s hard. +Hard.” + +He nodded sadly, with his eyes on the ground. Almayer looked at him with +growing indignation. + +“Upon my word, you are heartless,” he burst out; “perfectly +heartless--and selfish. It does not seem to strike you--in all +that--that in losing your ship--by your recklessness, I am sure--you +ruin me--us, and my little Nina. What’s going to become of me and of +her? That’s what I want to know. You brought me here, made me your +partner, and now, when everything is gone to the devil--through your +fault, mind you--you talk about your ship . . . ship! You can get +another. But here. This trade. That’s gone now, thanks to Willems. . . . +Your dear Willems!” + +“Never you mind about Willems. I will look after him,” said Lingard, +severely. “And as to the trade . . . I will make your fortune yet, my +boy. Never fear. Have you got any cargo for the schooner that brought me +here?” + +“The shed is full of rattans,” answered Almayer, “and I have about +eighty tons of guttah in the well. The last lot I ever will have, no +doubt,” he added, bitterly. + +“So, after all, there was no robbery. You’ve lost nothing actually. +Well, then, you must . . . Hallo! What’s the matter! . . . Here! . . .” + +“Robbery! No!” screamed Almayer, throwing up his hands. + +He fell back in the chair and his face became purple. A little white +foam appeared on his lips and trickled down his chin, while he lay back, +showing the whites of his upturned eyes. When he came to himself he saw +Lingard standing over him, with an empty water-chatty in his hand. + +“You had a fit of some kind,” said the old seaman with much concern. +“What is it? You did give me a fright. So very sudden.” + +Almayer, his hair all wet and stuck to his head, as if he had been +diving, sat up and gasped. + +“Outrage! A fiendish outrage. I . . .” + +Lingard put the chatty on the table and looked at him in attentive +silence. Almayer passed his hand over his forehead and went on in an +unsteady tone: + +“When I remember that, I lose all control,” he said. “I told you he +anchored Abdulla’s ship abreast our jetty, but over to the other shore, +near the Rajah’s place. The ship was surrounded with boats. From here it +looked as if she had been landed on a raft. Every dugout in Sambir was +there. Through my glass I could distinguish the faces of people on the +poop--Abdulla, Willems, Lakamba--everybody. That old cringing scoundrel +Sahamin was there. I could see quite plain. There seemed to be much talk +and discussion. Finally I saw a ship’s boat lowered. Some Arab got into +her, and the boat went towards Patalolo’s landing-place. It seems +they had been refused admittance--so they say. I think myself that +the water-gate was not unbarred quick enough to please the exalted +messenger. At any rate I saw the boat come back almost directly. I +was looking on, rather interested, when I saw Willems and some more go +forward--very busy about something there. That woman was also amongst +them. Ah, that woman . . .” + +Almayer choked, and seemed on the point of having a relapse, but by a +violent effort regained a comparative composure. + +“All of a sudden,” he continued--“bang! They fired a shot into +Patalolo’s gate, and before I had time to catch my breath--I was +startled, you may believe--they sent another and burst the gate open. +Whereupon, I suppose, they thought they had done enough for a while, and +probably felt hungry, for a feast began aft. Abdulla sat amongst +them like an idol, cross-legged, his hands on his lap. He’s too great +altogether to eat when others do, but he presided, you see. Willems kept +on dodging about forward, aloof from the crowd, and looking at my house +through the ship’s long glass. I could not resist it. I shook my fist at +him.” + +“Just so,” said Lingard, gravely. “That was the thing to do, of course. +If you can’t fight a man the best thing is to exasperate him.” + +Almayer waved his hand in a superior manner, and continued, unmoved: +“You may say what you like. You can’t realize my feelings. He saw me, +and, with his eye still at the small end of the glass, lifted his arm +as if answering a hail. I thought my turn to be shot at would come next +after Patalolo, so I ran up the Union Jack to the flagstaff in the yard. +I had no other protection. There were only three men besides Ali that +stuck to me--three cripples, for that matter, too sick to get away. I +would have fought singlehanded, I think, I was that angry, but there was +the child. What to do with her? Couldn’t send her up the river with the +mother. You know I can’t trust my wife. I decided to keep very quiet, +but to let nobody land on our shore. Private property, that; under a +deed from Patalolo. I was within my right--wasn’t I? The morning was +very quiet. After they had a feed on board the barque with Abdulla most +of them went home; only the big people remained. Towards three o’clock +Sahamin crossed alone in a small canoe. I went down on our wharf with +my gun to speak to him, but didn’t let him land. The old hypocrite said +Abdulla sent greetings and wished to talk with me on business; would I +come on board? I said no; I would not. Told him that Abdulla may write +and I would answer, but no interview, neither on board his ship nor on +shore. I also said that if anybody attempted to land within my fences +I would shoot--no matter whom. On that he lifted his hands to heaven, +scandalized, and then paddled away pretty smartly--to report, I suppose. +An hour or so afterwards I saw Willems land a boat party at the Rajah’s. +It was very quiet. Not a shot was fired, and there was hardly any +shouting. They tumbled those brass guns you presented to Patalolo last +year down the bank into the river. It’s deep there close to. The channel +runs that way, you know. About five, Willems went back on board, and +I saw him join Abdulla by the wheel aft. He talked a lot, swinging his +arms about--seemed to explain things--pointed at my house, then down the +reach. Finally, just before sunset, they hove upon the cable and dredged +the ship down nearly half a mile to the junction of the two branches of +the river--where she is now, as you might have seen.” + +Lingard nodded. + +“That evening, after dark--I was informed--Abdulla landed for the first +time in Sambir. He was entertained in Sahamin’s house. I sent Ali to the +settlement for news. He returned about nine, and reported that Patalolo +was sitting on Abdulla’s left hand before Sahamin’s fire. There was a +great council. Ali seemed to think that Patalolo was a prisoner, but +he was wrong there. They did the trick very neatly. Before midnight +everything was arranged as I can make out. Patalolo went back to his +demolished stockade, escorted by a dozen boats with torches. It appears +he begged Abdulla to let him have a passage in the Lord of the Isles to +Penang. From there he would go to Mecca. The firing business was alluded +to as a mistake. No doubt it was in a sense. Patalolo never meant +resisting. So he is going as soon as the ship is ready for sea. He went +on board next day with three women and half a dozen fellows as old as +himself. By Abdulla’s orders he was received with a salute of seven +guns, and he has been living on board ever since--five weeks. I doubt +whether he will leave the river alive. At any rate he won’t live to +reach Penang. Lakamba took over all his goods, and gave him a draft on +Abdulla’s house payable in Penang. He is bound to die before he gets +there. Don’t you see?” + +He sat silent for a while in dejected meditation, then went on: + +“Of course there were several rows during the night. Various fellows +took the opportunity of the unsettled state of affairs to pay off old +scores and settle old grudges. I passed the night in that chair there, +dozing uneasily. Now and then there would be a great tumult and yelling +which would make me sit up, revolver in hand. However, nobody was +killed. A few broken heads--that’s all. Early in the morning Willems +caused them to make a fresh move which I must say surprised me not a +little. As soon as there was daylight they busied themselves in setting +up a flag-pole on the space at the other end of the settlement, where +Abdulla is having his houses built now. Shortly after sunrise there was +a great gathering at the flag-pole. All went there. Willems was standing +leaning against the mast, one arm over that woman’s shoulders. They had +brought an armchair for Patalolo, and Lakamba stood on the right hand +of the old man, who made a speech. Everybody in Sambir was there: women, +slaves, children--everybody! Then Patalolo spoke. He said that by the +mercy of the Most High he was going on a pilgrimage. The dearest wish +of his heart was to be accomplished. Then, turning to Lakamba, he begged +him to rule justly during his--Patalolo’s--absence There was a bit +of play-acting there. Lakamba said he was unworthy of the honourable +burden, and Patalolo insisted. Poor old fool! It must have been bitter +to him. They made him actually entreat that scoundrel. Fancy a man +compelled to beg of a robber to despoil him! But the old Rajah was +so frightened. Anyway, he did it, and Lakamba accepted at last. Then +Willems made a speech to the crowd. Said that on his way to the west the +Rajah--he meant Patalolo--would see the Great White Ruler in Batavia +and obtain his protection for Sambir. Meantime, he went on, I, an Orang +Blanda and your friend, hoist the flag under the shadow of which there +is safety. With that he ran up a Dutch flag to the mast-head. It was +made hurriedly, during the night, of cotton stuffs, and, being heavy, +hung down the mast, while the crowd stared. Ali told me there was a +great sigh of surprise, but not a word was spoken till Lakamba advanced +and proclaimed in a loud voice that during all that day every one +passing by the flagstaff must uncover his head and salaam before the +emblem.” + +“But, hang it all!” exclaimed Lingard--“Abdulla is British!” + +“Abdulla wasn’t there at all--did not go on shore that day. Yet Ali, who +has his wits about him, noticed that the space where the crowd stood +was under the guns of the Lord of the Isles. They had put a coir warp +ashore, and gave the barque a cant in the current, so as to bring the +broadside to bear on the flagstaff. Clever! Eh? But nobody dreamt of +resistance. When they recovered from the surprise there was a little +quiet jeering; and Bahassoen abused Lakamba violently till one of +Lakamba’s men hit him on the head with a staff. Frightful crack, I +am told. Then they left off jeering. Meantime Patalolo went away, and +Lakamba sat in the chair at the foot of the flagstaff, while the crowd +surged around, as if they could not make up their minds to go. Suddenly +there was a great noise behind Lakamba’s chair. It was that woman, who +went for Willems. Ali says she was like a wild beast, but he twisted her +wrist and made her grovel in the dust. Nobody knows exactly what it was +about. Some say it was about that flag. He carried her off, flung her +into a canoe, and went on board Abdulla’s ship. After that Sahamin +was the first to salaam to the flag. Others followed suit. Before noon +everything was quiet in the settlement, and Ali came back and told me +all this.” + +Almayer drew a long breath. Lingard stretched out his legs. + +“Go on!” he said. + +Almayer seemed to struggle with himself. At last he spluttered out: + +“The hardest is to tell yet. The most unheard-of thing! An outrage! A +fiendish outrage!” + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +“Well! Let’s know all about it. I can’t imagine . . .” began Lingard, +after waiting for some time in silence. + +“Can’t imagine! I should think you couldn’t,” interrupted Almayer. “Why! +. . . You just listen. When Ali came back I felt a little easier in my +mind. There was then some semblance of order in Sambir. I had the Jack +up since the morning and began to feel safer. Some of my men turned up +in the afternoon. I did not ask any questions; set them to work as if +nothing had happened. Towards the evening--it might have been five or +half-past--I was on our jetty with the child when I heard shouts at the +far-off end of the settlement. At first I didn’t take much notice. By +and by Ali came to me and says, ‘Master, give me the child, there is +much trouble in the settlement.’ So I gave him Nina and went in, took +my revolver, and passed through the house into the back courtyard. As +I came down the steps I saw all the serving girls clear out from the +cooking shed, and I heard a big crowd howling on the other side of +the dry ditch which is the limit of our ground. Could not see them on +account of the fringe of bushes along the ditch, but I knew that crowd +was angry and after somebody. As I stood wondering, that Jim-Eng--you +know the Chinaman who settled here a couple of years ago?” + +“He was my passenger; I brought him here,” exclaimed Lingard. “A +first-class Chinaman that.” + +“Did you? I had forgotten. Well, that Jim-Eng, he burst through the bush +and fell into my arms, so to speak. He told me, panting, that they were +after him because he wouldn’t take off his hat to the flag. He was not +so much scared, but he was very angry and indignant. Of course he had to +run for it; there were some fifty men after him--Lakamba’s friends--but +he was full of fight. Said he was an Englishman, and would not take off +his hat to any flag but English. I tried to soothe him while the crowd +was shouting on the other side of the ditch. I told him he must take one +of my canoes and cross the river. Stop on the other side for a couple of +days. He wouldn’t. Not he. He was English, and he would fight the whole +lot. Says he: ‘They are only black fellows. We white men,’ meaning me +and himself, ‘can fight everybody in Sambir.’ He was mad with passion. +The crowd quieted a little, and I thought I could shelter Jim-Eng +without much risk, when all of a sudden I heard Willems’ voice. He +shouted to me in English: ‘Let four men enter your compound to get that +Chinaman!’ I said nothing. Told Jim-Eng to keep quiet too. Then after +a while Willems shouts again: ‘Don’t resist, Almayer. I give you good +advice. I am keeping this crowd back. Don’t resist them!’ That beggar’s +voice enraged me; I could not help it. I cried to him: ‘You are a liar!’ +and just then Jim-Eng, who had flung off his jacket and had tucked up +his trousers ready for a fight; just then that fellow he snatches the +revolver out of my hand and lets fly at them through the bush. There was +a sharp cry--he must have hit somebody--and a great yell, and before I +could wink twice they were over the ditch and through the bush and on +top of us! Simply rolled over us! There wasn’t the slightest chance to +resist. I was trampled under foot, Jim-Eng got a dozen gashes about his +body, and we were carried halfway up the yard in the first rush. My eyes +and mouth were full of dust; I was on my back with three or four fellows +sitting on me. I could hear Jim-Eng trying to shout not very far from +me. Now and then they would throttle him and he would gurgle. I could +hardly breathe myself with two heavy fellows on my chest. Willems came +up running and ordered them to raise me up, but to keep good hold. They +led me into the verandah. I looked round, but did not see either Ali or +the child. Felt easier. Struggled a little. . . . Oh, my God!” + +Almayer’s face was distorted with a passing spasm of rage. Lingard moved +in his chair slightly. Almayer went on after a short pause: + +“They held me, shouting threats in my face. Willems took down my hammock +and threw it to them. He pulled out the drawer of this table, and found +there a palm and needle and some sail-twine. We were making awnings for +your brig, as you had asked me last voyage before you left. He knew, of +course, where to look for what he wanted. By his orders they laid me out +on the floor, wrapped me in my hammock, and he started to stitch me in, +as if I had been a corpse, beginning at the feet. While he worked he +laughed wickedly. I called him all the names I could think of. He +told them to put their dirty paws over my mouth and nose. I was nearly +choked. Whenever I moved they punched me in the ribs. He went on taking +fresh needlefuls as he wanted them, and working steadily. Sewed me up to +my throat. Then he rose, saying, ‘That will do; let go.’ That woman had +been standing by; they must have been reconciled. She clapped her hands. +I lay on the floor like a bale of goods while he stared at me, and the +woman shrieked with delight. Like a bale of goods! There was a grin on +every face, and the verandah was full of them. I wished myself +dead--‘pon my word, Captain Lingard, I did! I do now whenever I think +of it!” + +Lingard’s face expressed sympathetic indignation. Almayer dropped +his head upon his arms on the table, and spoke in that position in an +indistinct and muffled voice, without looking up. + +“Finally, by his directions, they flung me into the big rocking-chair. +I was sewed in so tight that I was stiff like a piece of wood. He was +giving orders in a very loud voice, and that man Babalatchi saw that +they were executed. They obeyed him implicitly. Meantime I lay there in +the chair like a log, and that woman capered before me and made faces; +snapped her fingers before my nose. Women are bad!--ain’t they? I never +saw her before, as far as I know. Never done anything to her. Yet she +was perfectly fiendish. Can you understand it? Now and then she would +leave me alone to hang round his neck for awhile, and then she would +return before my chair and begin her exercises again. He looked on, +indulgent. The perspiration ran down my face, got into my eyes--my arms +were sewn in. I was blinded half the time; at times I could see better. +She drags him before my chair. ‘I am like white women,’ she says, her +arms round his neck. You should have seen the faces of the fellows in +the verandah! They were scandalized and ashamed of themselves to see her +behaviour. Suddenly she asks him, alluding to me: ‘When are you going +to kill him?’ Imagine how I felt. I must have swooned; I don’t remember +exactly. I fancy there was a row; he was angry. When I got my wits again +he was sitting close to me, and she was gone. I understood he sent her +to my wife, who was hiding in the back room and never came out during +this affair. Willems says to me--I fancy I can hear his voice, hoarse +and dull--he says to me: ‘Not a hair of your head shall be touched.’ I +made no sound. Then he goes on: ‘Please remark that the flag you have +hoisted--which, by the by, is not yours--has been respected. Tell +Captain Lingard so when you do see him. But,’ he says, ‘you first fired +at the crowd.’ ‘You are a liar, you blackguard!’ I shouted. He winced, I +am sure. It hurt him to see I was not frightened. ‘Anyways,’ he says, ‘a +shot had been fired out of your compound and a man was hit. Still, all +your property shall be respected on account of the Union Jack. Moreover, +I have no quarrel with Captain Lingard, who is the senior partner in +this business. As to you,’ he continued, ‘you will not forget this +day--not if you live to be a hundred years old--or I don’t know your +nature. You will keep the bitter taste of this humiliation to the last +day of your life, and so your kindness to me shall be repaid. I shall +remove all the powder you have. This coast is under the protection of +the Netherlands, and you have no right to have any powder. There are the +Governor’s Orders in Council to that effect, and you know it. Tell me +where the key of the small storehouse is?’ I said not a word, and he +waited a little, then rose, saying: ‘It’s your own fault if there is any +damage done.’ He ordered Babalatchi to have the lock of the office-room +forced, and went in--rummaged amongst my drawers--could not find the +key. Then that woman Aissa asked my wife, and she gave them the key. +After awhile they tumbled every barrel into the river. Eighty-three +hundredweight! He superintended himself, and saw every barrel roll into +the water. There were mutterings. Babalatchi was angry and tried to +expostulate, but he gave him a good shaking. I must say he was perfectly +fearless with those fellows. Then he came back to the verandah, sat down +by me again, and says: ‘We found your man Ali with your little daughter +hiding in the bushes up the river. We brought them in. They are +perfectly safe, of course. Let me congratulate you, Almayer, upon the +cleverness of your child. She recognized me at once, and cried “pig” + as naturally as you would yourself. Circumstances alter feelings. You +should have seen how frightened your man Ali was. Clapped his hands over +her mouth. I think you spoil her, Almayer. But I am not angry. Really, +you look so ridiculous in this chair that I can’t feel angry.’ I made +a frantic effort to burst out of my hammock to get at that scoundrel’s +throat, but I only fell off and upset the chair over myself. He laughed +and said only: ‘I leave you half of your revolver cartridges and take +half myself; they will fit mine. We are both white men, and should back +each other up. I may want them.’ I shouted at him from under the chair: +‘You are a thief,’ but he never looked, and went away, one hand round +that woman’s waist, the other on Babalatchi’s shoulder, to whom he was +talking--laying down the law about something or other. In less than five +minutes there was nobody inside our fences. After awhile Ali came to +look for me and cut me free. I haven’t seen Willems since--nor anybody +else for that matter. I have been left alone. I offered sixty dollars to +the man who had been wounded, which were accepted. They released Jim-Eng +the next day, when the flag had been hauled down. He sent six cases of +opium to me for safe keeping but has not left his house. I think he is +safe enough now. Everything is very quiet.” + +Towards the end of his narrative Almayer lifted his head off the table, +and now sat back in his chair and stared at the bamboo rafters of the +roof above him. Lingard lolled in his seat with his legs stretched out. +In the peaceful gloom of the verandah, with its lowered screens, they +heard faint noises from the world outside in the blazing sunshine: a +hail on the river, the answer from the shore, the creak of a pulley; +sounds short, interrupted, as if lost suddenly in the brilliance of +noonday. Lingard got up slowly, walked to the front rail, and holding +one of the screens aside, looked out in silence. Over the water and the +empty courtyard came a distinct voice from a small schooner anchored +abreast of the Lingard jetty. + +“Serang! Take a pull at the main peak halyards. This gaff is down on the +boom.” + +There was a shrill pipe dying in long-drawn cadence, the song of the men +swinging on the rope. The voice said sharply: “That will do!” Another +voice--the serang’s probably--shouted: “Ikat!” and as Lingard dropped +the blind and turned away all was silent again, as if there had been +nothing on the other side of the swaying screen; nothing but the light, +brilliant, crude, heavy, lying on a dead land like a pall of fire. +Lingard sat down again, facing Almayer, his elbow on the table, in a +thoughtful attitude. + +“Nice little schooner,” muttered Almayer, wearily. “Did you buy her?” + +“No,” answered Lingard. “After I lost the Flash we got to Palembang in +our boats. I chartered her there, for six months. From young Ford, you +know. Belongs to him. He wanted a spell ashore, so I took charge myself. +Of course all Ford’s people on board. Strangers to me. I had to go to +Singapore about the insurance; then I went to Macassar, of course. Had +long passages. No wind. It was like a curse on me. I had lots of trouble +with old Hudig. That delayed me much.” + +“Ah! Hudig! Why with Hudig?” asked Almayer, in a perfunctory manner. + +“Oh! about a . . . a woman,” mumbled Lingard. + +Almayer looked at him with languid surprise. The old seaman had twisted +his white beard into a point, and now was busy giving his moustaches a +fierce curl. His little red eyes--those eyes that had smarted under the +salt sprays of every sea, that had looked unwinking to windward in the +gales of all latitudes--now glared at Almayer from behind the lowered +eyebrows like a pair of frightened wild beasts crouching in a bush. + +“Extraordinary! So like you! What can you have to do with Hudig’s women? +The old sinner!” said Almayer, negligently. + +“What are you talking about! Wife of a friend of . . . I mean of a man I +know . . .” + +“Still, I don’t see . . .” interjected Almayer carelessly. + +“Of a man you know too. Well. Very well.” + +“I knew so many men before you made me bury myself in this hole!” + growled Almayer, unamiably. “If she had anything to do with Hudig--that +wife--then she can’t be up to much. I would be sorry for the man,” + added Almayer, brightening up with the recollection of the scandalous +tittle-tattle of the past, when he was a young man in the second capital +of the Islands--and so well informed, so well informed. He laughed. +Lingard’s frown deepened. + +“Don’t talk foolish! It’s Willems’ wife.” + +Almayer grasped the sides of his seat, his eyes and mouth opened wide. + +“What? Why!” he exclaimed, bewildered. + +“Willems’--wife,” repeated Lingard distinctly. “You ain’t deaf, are you? +The wife of Willems. Just so. As to why! There was a promise. And I did +not know what had happened here.” + +“What is it. You’ve been giving her money, I bet,” cried Almayer. + +“Well, no!” said Lingard, deliberately. “Although I suppose I shall have +to . . .” + +Almayer groaned. + +“The fact is,” went on Lingard, speaking slowly and steadily, “the fact +is that I have . . . I have brought her here. Here. To Sambir.” + +“In heaven’s name! why?” shouted Almayer, jumping up. The chair tilted +and fell slowly over. He raised his clasped hands above his head and +brought them down jerkily, separating his fingers with an effort, as if +tearing them apart. Lingard nodded, quickly, several times. + +“I have. Awkward. Hey?” he said, with a puzzled look upwards. + +“Upon my word,” said Almayer, tearfully. “I can’t understand you at all. +What will you do next! Willems’ wife!” + +“Wife and child. Small boy, you know. They are on board the schooner.” + +Almayer looked at Lingard with sudden suspicion, then turning away +busied himself in picking up the chair, sat down in it turning his back +upon the old seaman, and tried to whistle, but gave it up directly. +Lingard went on-- + +“Fact is, the fellow got into trouble with Hudig. Worked upon my +feelings. I promised to arrange matters. I did. With much trouble. Hudig +was angry with her for wishing to join her husband. Unprincipled old +fellow. You know she is his daughter. Well, I said I would see her +through it all right; help Willems to a fresh start and so on. I spoke +to Craig in Palembang. He is getting on in years, and wanted a manager +or partner. I promised to guarantee Willems’ good behaviour. We settled +all that. Craig is an old crony of mine. Been shipmates in the forties. +He’s waiting for him now. A pretty mess! What do you think?” + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + +“That woman broke with Hudig on my assurance that all would be well,” + went on Lingard, with growing dismay. “She did. Proper thing, of course. +Wife, husband . . . together . . . as it should be . . . Smart fellow +. . . Impossible scoundrel . . . Jolly old go! Oh! damn!” + +Almayer laughed spitefully. + +“How delighted he will be,” he said, softly. “You will make two people +happy. Two at least!” He laughed again, while Lingard looked at his +shaking shoulders in consternation. + +“I am jammed on a lee shore this time, if ever I was,” muttered Lingard. + +“Send her back quick,” suggested Almayer, stifling another laugh. + +“What are you sniggering at?” growled Lingard, angrily. “I’ll work it +out all clear yet. Meantime you must receive her into this house.” + +“My house!” cried Almayer, turning round. + +“It’s mine too--a little isn’t it?” said Lingard. “Don’t argue,” + he shouted, as Almayer opened his mouth. “Obey orders and hold your +tongue!” + +“Oh! If you take it in that tone!” mumbled Almayer, sulkily, with a +gesture of assent. + +“You are so aggravating too, my boy,” said the old seaman, with +unexpected placidity. “You must give me time to turn round. I can’t keep +her on board all the time. I must tell her something. Say, for instance, +that he is gone up the river. Expected back every day. That’s it. D’ye +hear? You must put her on that tack and dodge her along easy, while I +take the kinks out of the situation. By God!” he exclaimed, mournfully, +after a short pause, “life is foul! Foul like a lee forebrace on a dirty +night. And yet. And yet. One must see it clear for running before going +below--for good. Now you attend to what I said,” he added, sharply, “if +you don’t want to quarrel with me, my boy.” + +“I don’t want to quarrel with you,” murmured Almayer with unwilling +deference. “Only I wish I could understand you. I know you are my +best friend, Captain Lingard; only, upon my word, I can’t make you out +sometimes! I wish I could . . .” + +Lingard burst into a loud laugh which ended shortly in a deep sigh. He +closed his eyes, tilting his head over the back of his armchair; and on +his face, baked by the unclouded suns of many hard years, there appeared +for a moment a weariness and a look of age which startled Almayer, like +an unexpected disclosure of evil. + +“I am done up,” said Lingard, gently. “Perfectly done up. All night on +deck getting that schooner up the river. Then talking with you. Seems to +me I could go to sleep on a clothes-line. I should like to eat something +though. Just see about that, Kaspar.” + +Almayer clapped his hands, and receiving no response was going to call, +when in the central passage of the house, behind the red curtain of the +doorway opening upon the verandah, they heard a child’s imperious voice +speaking shrilly. + +“Take me up at once. I want to be carried into the verandah. I shall be +very angry. Take me up.” + +A man’s voice answered, subdued, in humble remonstrance. The faces of +Almayer and Lingard brightened at once. The old seaman called out-- + +“Bring the child. Lekas!” + +“You will see how she has grown,” exclaimed Almayer, in a jubilant tone. + +Through the curtained doorway Ali appeared with little Nina Almayer in +his arms. The child had one arm round his neck, and with the other she +hugged a ripe pumelo nearly as big as her own head. Her little pink, +sleeveless robe had half slipped off her shoulders, but the long black +hair, that framed her olive face, in which the big black eyes looked out +in childish solemnity, fell in luxuriant profusion over her shoulders, +all round her and over Ali’s arms, like a close-meshed and delicate net +of silken threads. Lingard got up to meet Ali, and as soon as she caught +sight of the old seaman she dropped the fruit and put out both her hands +with a cry of delight. He took her from the Malay, and she laid hold of +his moustaches with an affectionate goodwill that brought unaccustomed +tears into his little red eyes. + +“Not so hard, little one, not so hard,” he murmured, pressing with an +enormous hand, that covered it entirely, the child’s head to his face. + +“Pick up my pumelo, O Rajah of the sea!” she said, speaking in a +high-pitched, clear voice with great volubility. “There, under the +table. I want it quick! Quick! You have been away fighting with many +men. Ali says so. You are a mighty fighter. Ali says so. On the great +sea far away, away, away.” + +She waved her hand, staring with dreamy vacancy, while Lingard looked at +her, and squatting down groped under the table after the pumelo. + +“Where does she get those notions?” said Lingard, getting up cautiously, +to Almayer, who had been giving orders to Ali. + +“She is always with the men. Many a time I’ve found her with her fingers +in their rice dish, of an evening. She does not care for her mother +though--I am glad to say. How pretty she is--and so sharp. My very +image!” + +Lingard had put the child on the table, and both men stood looking at +her with radiant faces. + +“A perfect little woman,” whispered Lingard. “Yes, my dear boy, we shall +make her somebody. You’ll see!” + +“Very little chance of that now,” remarked Almayer, sadly. + +“You do not know!” exclaimed Lingard, taking up the child again, +and beginning to walk up and down the verandah. “I have my plans. I +have--listen.” + +And he began to explain to the interested Almayer his plans for the +future. He would interview Abdulla and Lakamba. There must be some +understanding with those fellows now they had the upper hand. Here +he interrupted himself to swear freely, while the child, who had been +diligently fumbling about his neck, had found his whistle and blew a +loud blast now and then close to his ear--which made him wince and laugh +as he put her hands down, scolding her lovingly. Yes--that would be +easily settled. He was a man to be reckoned with yet. Nobody knew that +better than Almayer. Very well. Then he must patiently try and keep some +little trade together. It would be all right. But the great thing--and +here Lingard spoke lower, bringing himself to a sudden standstill before +the entranced Almayer--the great thing would be the gold hunt up the +river. He--Lingard--would devote himself to it. He had been in the +interior before. There were immense deposits of alluvial gold there. +Fabulous. He felt sure. Had seen places. Dangerous work? Of course! But +what a reward! He would explore--and find. Not a shadow of doubt. Hang +the danger! They would first get as much as they could for themselves. +Keep the thing quiet. Then after a time form a Company. In Batavia or +in England. Yes, in England. Much better. Splendid! Why, of course. And +that baby would be the richest woman in the world. He--Lingard--would +not, perhaps, see it--although he felt good for many years yet--but +Almayer would. Here was something to live for yet! Hey? + +But the richest woman in the world had been for the last five minutes +shouting shrilly--“Rajah Laut! Rajah Laut! Hai! Give ear!” while the old +seaman had been speaking louder, unconsciously, to make his deep bass +heard above the impatient clamour. He stopped now and said tenderly-- + +“What is it, little woman?” + +“I am not a little woman. I am a white child. Anak Putih. A white child; +and the white men are my brothers. Father says so. And Ali says so too. +Ali knows as much as father. Everything.” + +Almayer almost danced with paternal delight. + +“I taught her. I taught her,” he repeated, laughing with tears in his +eyes. “Isn’t she sharp?” + +“I am the slave of the white child,” said Lingard, with playful +solemnity. “What is the order?” + +“I want a house,” she warbled, with great eagerness. “I want a house, +and another house on the roof, and another on the roof--high. High! +Like the places where they dwell--my brothers--in the land where the sun +sleeps.” + +“To the westward,” explained Almayer, under his breath. “She remembers +everything. She wants you to build a house of cards. You did, last time +you were here.” + +Lingard sat down with the child on his knees, and Almayer pulled out +violently one drawer after another, looking for the cards, as if the +fate of the world depended upon his haste. He produced a dirty double +pack which was only used during Lingard’s visit to Sambir, when he would +sometimes play--of an evening--with Almayer, a game which he called +Chinese bezique. It bored Almayer, but the old seaman delighted in it, +considering it a remarkable product of Chinese genius--a race for which +he had an unaccountable liking and admiration. + +“Now we will get on, my little pearl,” he said, putting together with +extreme precaution two cards that looked absurdly flimsy between his big +fingers. Little Nina watched him with intense seriousness as he went on +erecting the ground floor, while he continued to speak to Almayer with +his head over his shoulder so as not to endanger the structure with his +breath. + +“I know what I am talking about. . . . Been in California in forty-nine. +. . . Not that I made much . . . then in Victoria in the early days +. . . . I know all about it. Trust me. Moreover a blind man could . . . +Be quiet, little sister, or you will knock this affair down. . . . My hand +pretty steady yet! Hey, Kaspar? . . . Now, delight of my heart, we shall +put a third house on the top of these two . . . keep very quiet. . . . +As I was saying, you got only to stoop and gather handfuls of gold . . . +dust . . . there. Now here we are. Three houses on top of one another. +Grand!” + +He leaned back in his chair, one hand on the child’s head, which he +smoothed mechanically, and gesticulated with the other, speaking to +Almayer. + +“Once on the spot, there would be only the trouble to pick up the stuff. +Then we shall all go to Europe. The child must be educated. We shall be +rich. Rich is no name for it. Down in Devonshire where I belong, there +was a fellow who built a house near Teignmouth which had as many windows +as a three-decker has ports. Made all his money somewhere out here in +the good old days. People around said he had been a pirate. We boys--I +was a boy in a Brixham trawler then--certainly believed that. He went +about in a bath-chair in his grounds. Had a glass eye . . .” + +“Higher, Higher!” called out Nina, pulling the old seaman’s beard. + +“You do worry me--don’t you?” said Lingard, gently, giving her a tender +kiss. “What? One more house on top of all these? Well! I will try.” + +The child watched him breathlessly. When the difficult feat was +accomplished she clapped her hands, looked on steadily, and after a +while gave a great sigh of content. + +“Oh! Look out!” shouted Almayer. + +The structure collapsed suddenly before the child’s light breath. +Lingard looked discomposed for a moment. Almayer laughed, but the little +girl began to cry. + +“Take her,” said the old seaman, abruptly. Then, after Almayer went +away with the crying child, he remained sitting by the table, looking +gloomily at the heap of cards. + +“Damn this Willems,” he muttered to himself. “But I will do it yet!” + +He got up, and with an angry push of his hand swept the cards off the +table. Then he fell back in his chair. + +“Tired as a dog,” he sighed out, closing his eyes. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Consciously or unconsciously, men are proud of their firmness, +steadfastness of purpose, directness of aim. They go straight towards +their desire, to the accomplishment of virtue--sometimes of crime--in an +uplifting persuasion of their firmness. They walk the road of life, the +road fenced in by their tastes, prejudices, disdains or enthusiasms, +generally honest, invariably stupid, and are proud of never losing their +way. If they do stop, it is to look for a moment over the hedges that +make them safe, to look at the misty valleys, at the distant peaks, at +cliffs and morasses, at the dark forests and the hazy plains where other +human beings grope their days painfully away, stumbling over the bones +of the wise, over the unburied remains of their predecessors who died +alone, in gloom or in sunshine, halfway from anywhere. The man of +purpose does not understand, and goes on, full of contempt. He never +loses his way. He knows where he is going and what he wants. Travelling +on, he achieves great length without any breadth, and battered, +besmirched, and weary, he touches the goal at last; he grasps the +reward of his perseverance, of his virtue, of his healthy optimism: an +untruthful tombstone over a dark and soon forgotten grave. + +Lingard had never hesitated in his life. Why should he? He had been +a most successful trader, and a man lucky in his fights, skilful in +navigation, undeniably first in seamanship in those seas. He knew it. +Had he not heard the voice of common consent? + +The voice of the world that respected him so much; the whole world to +him--for to us the limits of the universe are strictly defined by those +we know. There is nothing for us outside the babble of praise and blame +on familiar lips, and beyond our last acquaintance there lies only +a vast chaos; a chaos of laughter and tears which concerns us not; +laughter and tears unpleasant, wicked, morbid, contemptible--because +heard imperfectly by ears rebellious to strange sounds. To +Lingard--simple himself--all things were simple. He seldom read. Books +were not much in his way, and he had to work hard navigating, trading, +and also, in obedience to his benevolent instincts, shaping stray +lives he found here and there under his busy hand. He remembered the +Sunday-school teachings of his native village and the discourses of +the black-coated gentleman connected with the Mission to Fishermen and +Seamen, whose yawl-rigged boat darting through rain-squalls amongst the +coasters wind-bound in Falmouth Bay, was part of those precious pictures +of his youthful days that lingered in his memory. “As clever a sky-pilot +as you could wish to see,” he would say with conviction, “and the best +man to handle a boat in any weather I ever did meet!” Such were the +agencies that had roughly shaped his young soul before he went away to +see the world in a southern-going ship--before he went, ignorant and +happy, heavy of hand, pure in heart, profane in speech, to give himself +up to the great sea that took his life and gave him his fortune. When +thinking of his rise in the world--commander of ships, then shipowner, +then a man of much capital, respected wherever he went, Lingard in a +word, the Rajah Laut--he was amazed and awed by his fate, that seemed to +his ill-informed mind the most wondrous known in the annals of men. +His experience appeared to him immense and conclusive, teaching him the +lesson of the simplicity of life. In life--as in seamanship--there were +only two ways of doing a thing: the right way and the wrong way. Common +sense and experience taught a man the way that was right. The other +was for lubbers and fools, and led, in seamanship, to loss of spars and +sails or shipwreck; in life, to loss of money and consideration, or +to an unlucky knock on the head. He did not consider it his duty to +be angry with rascals. He was only angry with things he could not +understand, but for the weaknesses of humanity he could find a +contemptuous tolerance. It being manifest that he was wise and +lucky--otherwise how could he have been as successful in life as he had +been?--he had an inclination to set right the lives of other people, +just as he could hardly refrain--in defiance of nautical etiquette--from +interfering with his chief officer when the crew was sending up a new +topmast, or generally when busy about, what he called, “a heavy job.” He +was meddlesome with perfect modesty; if he knew a thing or two there was +no merit in it. “Hard knocks taught me wisdom, my boy,” he used to say, +“and you had better take the advice of a man who has been a fool in his +time. Have another.” And “my boy” as a rule took the cool drink, the +advice, and the consequent help which Lingard felt himself bound in +honour to give, so as to back up his opinion like an honest man. Captain +Tom went sailing from island to island, appearing unexpectedly +in various localities, beaming, noisy, anecdotal, commendatory or +comminatory, but always welcome. + +It was only since his return to Sambir that the old seaman had for the +first time known doubt and unhappiness, The loss of the Flash--planted +firmly and for ever on a ledge of rock at the north end of Gaspar +Straits in the uncertain light of a cloudy morning--shook him +considerably; and the amazing news which he heard on his arrival +in Sambir were not made to soothe his feelings. A good many years +ago--prompted by his love of adventure--he, with infinite trouble, had +found out and surveyed--for his own benefit only--the entrances to that +river, where, he had heard through native report, a new settlement of +Malays was forming. No doubt he thought at the time mostly of personal +gain; but, received with hearty friendliness by Patalolo, he soon came +to like the ruler and the people, offered his counsel and his help, +and--knowing nothing of Arcadia--he dreamed of Arcadian happiness for +that little corner of the world which he loved to think all his own. +His deep-seated and immovable conviction that only he--he, Lingard--knew +what was good for them was characteristic of him and, after all, not so +very far wrong. He would make them happy whether or no, he said, and he +meant it. His trade brought prosperity to the young state, and the fear +of his heavy hand secured its internal peace for many years. + +He looked proudly upon his work. With every passing year he loved more +the land, the people, the muddy river that, if he could help it, would +carry no other craft but the Flash on its unclean and friendly surface. +As he slowly warped his vessel up-stream he would scan with knowing +looks the riverside clearings, and pronounce solemn judgment upon the +prospects of the season’s rice-crop. He knew every settler on the banks +between the sea and Sambir; he knew their wives, their children; he +knew every individual of the multi-coloured groups that, standing on +the flimsy platforms of tiny reed dwellings built over the water, waved +their hands and shouted shrilly: “O! Kapal layer! Hai!” while the Flash +swept slowly through the populated reach, to enter the lonely stretches +of sparkling brown water bordered by the dense and silent forest, +whose big trees nodded their outspread boughs gently in the faint, warm +breeze--as if in sign of tender but melancholy welcome. He loved it all: +the landscape of brown golds and brilliant emeralds under the dome of +hot sapphire; the whispering big trees; the loquacious nipa-palms that +rattled their leaves volubly in the night breeze, as if in haste to tell +him all the secrets of the great forest behind them. He loved the heavy +scents of blossoms and black earth, that breath of life and of death +which lingered over his brig in the damp air of tepid and peaceful +nights. He loved the narrow and sombre creeks, strangers to sunshine: +black, smooth, tortuous--like byways of despair. He liked even the +troops of sorrowful-faced monkeys that profaned the quiet spots with +capricious gambols and insane gestures of inhuman madness. He loved +everything there, animated or inanimated; the very mud of the riverside; +the very alligators, enormous and stolid, basking on it with impertinent +unconcern. Their size was a source of pride to him. “Immense fellows! +Make two of them Palembang reptiles! I tell you, old man!” he would +shout, poking some crony of his playfully in the ribs: “I tell you, +big as you are, they could swallow you in one gulp, hat, boots and all! +Magnificent beggars! Wouldn’t you like to see them? Wouldn’t you! Ha! +ha! ha!” His thunderous laughter filled the verandah, rolled over the +hotel garden, overflowed into the street, paralyzing for a short moment +the noiseless traffic of bare brown feet; and its loud reverberations +would even startle the landlord’s tame bird--a shameless mynah--into +a momentary propriety of behaviour under the nearest chair. In the big +billiard-room perspiring men in thin cotton singlets would stop the +game, listen, cue in hand, for a while through the open windows, then +nod their moist faces at each other sagaciously and whisper: “The old +fellow is talking about his river.” + +His river! The whispers of curious men, the mystery of the thing, +were to Lingard a source of never-ending delight. The common talk of +ignorance exaggerated the profits of his queer monopoly, and, although +strictly truthful in general, he liked, on that matter, to mislead +speculation still further by boasts full of cold raillery. His river! +By it he was not only rich--he was interesting. This secret of his which +made him different to the other traders of those seas gave intimate +satisfaction to that desire for singularity which he shared with the +rest of mankind, without being aware of its presence within his breast. +It was the greater part of his happiness, but he only knew it after its +loss, so unforeseen, so sudden and so cruel. + +After his conversation with Almayer he went on board the schooner, sent +Joanna on shore, and shut himself up in his cabin, feeling very unwell. +He made the most of his indisposition to Almayer, who came to visit him +twice a day. It was an excuse for doing nothing just yet. He wanted to +think. He was very angry. Angry with himself, with Willems. Angry at +what Willems had done--and also angry at what he had left undone. +The scoundrel was not complete. The conception was perfect, but +the execution, unaccountably, fell short. Why? He ought to have cut +Almayer’s throat and burnt the place to ashes--then cleared out. Got +out of his way; of him, Lingard! Yet he didn’t. Was it impudence, +contempt--or what? He felt hurt at the implied disrespect of his +power, and the incomplete rascality of the proceeding disturbed him +exceedingly. There was something short, something wanting, something +that would have given him a free hand in the work of retribution. The +obvious, the right thing to do, was to shoot Willems. Yet how could he? +Had the fellow resisted, showed fight, or ran away; had he shown any +consciousness of harm done, it would have been more possible, more +natural. But no! The fellow actually had sent him a message. Wanted +to see him. What for? The thing could not be explained. An unexampled, +cold-blooded treachery, awful, incomprehensible. Why did he do it? Why? +Why? The old seaman in the stuffy solitude of his little cabin on board +the schooner groaned out many times that question, striking with an open +palm his perplexed forehead. + +During his four days of seclusion he had received two messages from the +outer world; from that world of Sambir which had, so suddenly and so +finally, slipped from his grasp. One, a few words from Willems written +on a torn-out page of a small notebook; the other, a communication +from Abdulla caligraphed carefully on a large sheet of flimsy paper +and delivered to him in a green silk wrapper. The first he could not +understand. It said: “Come and see me. I am not afraid. Are you? W.” + He tore it up angrily, but before the small bits of dirty paper had the +time to flutter down and settle on the floor, the anger was gone and was +replaced by a sentiment that induced him to go on his knees, pick up +the fragments of the torn message, piece it together on the top of his +chronometer box, and contemplate it long and thoughtfully, as if he had +hoped to read the answer of the horrible riddle in the very form of the +letters that went to make up that fresh insult. Abdulla’s letter he read +carefully and rammed it into his pocket, also with anger, but with anger +that ended in a half-resigned, half-amused smile. He would never give in +as long as there was a chance. “It’s generally the safest way to stick +to the ship as long as she will swim,” was one of his favourite sayings: +“The safest and the right way. To abandon a craft because it leaks is +easy--but poor work. Poor work!” Yet he was intelligent enough to know +when he was beaten, and to accept the situation like a man, without +repining. When Almayer came on board that afternoon he handed him the +letter without comment. + +Almayer read it, returned it in silence, and leaning over the taffrail +(the two men were on deck) looked down for some time at the play of the +eddies round the schooner’s rudder. At last he said without looking up-- + +“That’s a decent enough letter. Abdulla gives him up to you. I told you +they were getting sick of him. What are you going to do?” + +Lingard cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, opened his mouth with +great determination, but said nothing for a while. At last he murmured-- + +“I’ll be hanged if I know--just yet.” + +“I wish you would do something soon . . .” + +“What’s the hurry?” interrupted Lingard. “He can’t get away. As it +stands he is at my mercy, as far as I can see.” + +“Yes,” said Almayer, reflectively--“and very little mercy he deserves +too. Abdulla’s meaning--as I can make it out amongst all those +compliments--is: ‘Get rid for me of that white man--and we shall live in +peace and share the trade.”’ + +“You believe that?” asked Lingard, contemptuously. + +“Not altogether,” answered Almayer. “No doubt we will share the trade +for a time--till he can grab the lot. Well, what are you going to do?” + +He looked up as he spoke and was surprised to see Lingard’s discomposed +face. + +“You ain’t well. Pain anywhere?” he asked, with real solicitude. + +“I have been queer--you know--these last few days, but no pain.” He +struck his broad chest several times, cleared his throat with a powerful +“Hem!” and repeated: “No. No pain. Good for a few years yet. But I am +bothered with all this, I can tell you!” + +“You must take care of yourself,” said Almayer. Then after a pause he +added: “You will see Abdulla. Won’t you?” + +“I don’t know. Not yet. There’s plenty of time,” said Lingard, +impatiently. + +“I wish you would do something,” urged Almayer, moodily. “You know, that +woman is a perfect nuisance to me. She and her brat! Yelps all day. And +the children don’t get on together. Yesterday the little devil wanted to +fight with my Nina. Scratched her face, too. A perfect savage! Like +his honourable papa. Yes, really. She worries about her husband, and +whimpers from morning to night. When she isn’t weeping she is furious +with me. Yesterday she tormented me to tell her when he would be +back and cried because he was engaged in such dangerous work. I said +something about it being all right--no necessity to make a fool of +herself, when she turned upon me like a wild cat. Called me a brute, +selfish, heartless; raved about her beloved Peter risking his life for +my benefit, while I did not care. Said I took advantage of his generous +good-nature to get him to do dangerous work--my work. That he was worth +twenty of the likes of me. That she would tell you--open your eyes as +to the kind of man I was, and so on. That’s what I’ve got to put up with +for your sake. You really might consider me a little. I haven’t robbed +anybody,” went on Almayer, with an attempt at bitter irony--“or sold +my best friend, but still you ought to have some pity on me. It’s like +living in a hot fever. She is out of her wits. You make my house a +refuge for scoundrels and lunatics. It isn’t fair. ‘Pon my word +it isn’t! When she is in her tantrums she is ridiculously ugly and +screeches so--it sets my teeth on edge. Thank God! my wife got a fit of +the sulks and cleared out of the house. Lives in a riverside hut since +that affair--you know. But this Willems’ wife by herself is almost more +than I can bear. And I ask myself why should I? You are exacting and no +mistake. This morning I thought she was going to claw me. Only think! +She wanted to go prancing about the settlement. She might have heard +something there, so I told her she mustn’t. It wasn’t safe outside our +fences, I said. Thereupon she rushes at me with her ten nails up to my +eyes. ‘You miserable man,’ she yells, ‘even this place is not safe, and +you’ve sent him up this awful river where he may lose his head. If he +dies before forgiving me, Heaven will punish you for your crime . . .’ +My crime! I ask myself sometimes whether I am dreaming! It will make me +ill, all this. I’ve lost my appetite already.” + +He flung his hat on deck and laid hold of his hair despairingly. Lingard +looked at him with concern. + +“What did she mean by it?” he muttered, thoughtfully. + +“Mean! She is crazy, I tell you--and I will be, very soon, if this +lasts!” + +“Just a little patience, Kaspar,” pleaded Lingard. “A day or so more.” + +Relieved or tired by his violent outburst, Almayer calmed down, picked +up his hat and, leaning against the bulwark, commenced to fan himself +with it. + +“Days do pass,” he said, resignedly--“but that kind of thing makes a +man old before his time. What is there to think about?--I can’t imagine! +Abdulla says plainly that if you undertake to pilot his ship out and +instruct the half-caste, he will drop Willems like a hot potato and be +your friend ever after. I believe him perfectly, as to Willems. It’s so +natural. As to being your friend it’s a lie of course, but we need +not bother about that just yet. You just say yes to Abdulla, and then +whatever happens to Willems will be nobody’s business.” + +He interrupted himself and remained silent for a while, glaring about +with set teeth and dilated nostrils. + +“You leave it to me. I’ll see to it that something happens to him,” he +said at last, with calm ferocity. Lingard smiled faintly. + +“The fellow isn’t worth a shot. Not the trouble of it,” he whispered, as +if to himself. Almayer fired up suddenly. + +“That’s what you think,” he cried. “You haven’t been sewn up in your +hammock to be made a laughing-stock of before a parcel of savages. Why! +I daren’t look anybody here in the face while that scoundrel is alive. I +will . . . I will settle him.” + +“I don’t think you will,” growled Lingard. + +“Do you think I am afraid of him?” + +“Bless you! no!” said Lingard with alacrity. “Afraid! Not you. I know +you. I don’t doubt your courage. It’s your head, my boy, your head that +I . . .” + +“That’s it,” said the aggrieved Almayer. “Go on. Why don’t you call me a +fool at once?” + +“Because I don’t want to,” burst out Lingard, with nervous irritability. +“If I wanted to call you a fool, I would do so without asking your +leave.” He began to walk athwart the narrow quarter-deck, kicking ropes’ +ends out of his way and growling to himself: “Delicate gentleman . . . +what next? . . . I’ve done man’s work before you could toddle. +Understand . . . say what I like.” + +“Well! well!” said Almayer, with affected resignation. “There’s no +talking to you these last few days.” He put on his hat, strolled to +the gangway and stopped, one foot on the little inside ladder, as if +hesitating, came back and planted himself in Lingard’s way, compelling +him to stand still and listen. + +“Of course you will do what you like. You never take advice--I know +that; but let me tell you that it wouldn’t be honest to let that fellow +get away from here. If you do nothing, that scoundrel will leave in +Abdulla’s ship for sure. Abdulla will make use of him to hurt you and +others elsewhere. Willems knows too much about your affairs. He will +cause you lots of trouble. You mark my words. Lots of trouble. To +you--and to others perhaps. Think of that, Captain Lingard. That’s all +I’ve got to say. Now I must go back on shore. There’s lots of work. We +will begin loading this schooner to-morrow morning, first thing. All the +bundles are ready. If you should want me for anything, hoist some kind +of flag on the mainmast. At night two shots will fetch me.” Then +he added, in a friendly tone, “Won’t you come and dine in the house +to-night? It can’t be good for you to stew on board like that, day after +day.” + +Lingard did not answer. The image evoked by Almayer; the picture of +Willems ranging over the islands and disturbing the harmony of +the universe by robbery, treachery, and violence, held him silent, +entranced--painfully spellbound. Almayer, after waiting for a little +while, moved reluctantly towards the gangway, lingered there, then +sighed and got over the side, going down step by step. His head +disappeared slowly below the rail. Lingard, who had been staring at him +absently, started suddenly, ran to the side, and looking over, called +out-- + +“Hey! Kaspar! Hold on a bit!” + +Almayer signed to his boatmen to cease paddling, and turned his head +towards the schooner. The boat drifted back slowly abreast of Lingard, +nearly alongside. + +“Look here,” said Lingard, looking down--“I want a good canoe with four +men to-day.” + +“Do you want it now?” asked Almayer. + +“No! Catch this rope. Oh, you clumsy devil! . . . No, Kaspar,” went on +Lingard, after the bow-man had got hold of the end of the brace he had +thrown down into the canoe--“No, Kaspar. The sun is too much for me. And +it would be better to keep my affairs quiet, too. Send the canoe--four +good paddlers, mind, and your canvas chair for me to sit in. Send it +about sunset. D’ye hear?” + +“All right, father,” said Almayer, cheerfully--“I will send Ali for a +steersman, and the best men I’ve got. Anything else?” + +“No, my lad. Only don’t let them be late.” + +“I suppose it’s no use asking you where you are going,” said Almayer, +tentatively. “Because if it is to see Abdulla, I . . .” + +“I am not going to see Abdulla. Not to-day. Now be off with you.” + +He watched the canoe dart away shorewards, waved his hand in response +to Almayer’s nod, and walked to the taffrail smoothing out Abdulla’s +letter, which he had pulled out of his pocket. He read it over +carefully, crumpled it up slowly, smiling the while and closing his +fingers firmly over the crackling paper as though he had hold there +of Abdulla’s throat. Halfway to his pocket he changed his mind, and +flinging the ball overboard looked at it thoughtfully as it spun round +in the eddies for a moment, before the current bore it away down-stream, +towards the sea. + + + + +PART IV + + +CHAPTER ONE + +The night was very dark. For the first time in many months the East +Coast slept unseen by the stars under a veil of motionless cloud that, +driven before the first breath of the rainy monsoon, had drifted slowly +from the eastward all the afternoon; pursuing the declining sun with +its masses of black and grey that seemed to chase the light with wicked +intent, and with an ominous and gloomy steadiness, as though conscious +of the message of violence and turmoil they carried. At the sun’s +disappearance below the western horizon, the immense cloud, in quickened +motion, grappled with the glow of retreating light, and rolling down +to the clear and jagged outline of the distant mountains, hung arrested +above the steaming forests; hanging low, silent and menacing over the +unstirring tree-tops; withholding the blessing of rain, nursing the +wrath of its thunder; undecided--as if brooding over its own power for +good or for evil. + +Babalatchi, coming out of the red and smoky light of his little bamboo +house, glanced upwards, drew in a long breath of the warm and stagnant +air, and stood for a moment with his good eye closed tightly, as if +intimidated by the unwonted and deep silence of Lakamba’s courtyard. +When he opened his eye he had recovered his sight so far, that he could +distinguish the various degrees of formless blackness which marked the +places of trees, of abandoned houses, of riverside bushes, on the dark +background of the night. + +The careworn sage walked cautiously down the deserted courtyard to the +waterside, and stood on the bank listening to the voice of the invisible +river that flowed at his feet; listening to the soft whispers, to the +deep murmurs, to the sudden gurgles and the short hisses of the swift +current racing along the bank through the hot darkness. + +He stood with his face turned to the river, and it seemed to him that he +could breathe easier with the knowledge of the clear vast space before +him; then, after a while he leaned heavily forward on his staff, his +chin fell on his breast, and a deep sigh was his answer to the selfish +discourse of the river that hurried on unceasing and fast, regardless of +joy or sorrow, of suffering and of strife, of failures and triumphs that +lived on its banks. The brown water was there, ready to carry friends or +enemies, to nurse love or hate on its submissive and heartless bosom, +to help or to hinder, to save life or give death; the great and rapid +river: a deliverance, a prison, a refuge or a grave. + +Perchance such thoughts as these caused Babalatchi to send another +mournful sigh into the trailing mists of the unconcerned Pantai. The +barbarous politician had forgotten the recent success of his plottings +in the melancholy contemplation of a sorrow that made the night blacker, +the clammy heat more oppressive, the still air more heavy, the dumb +solitude more significant of torment than of peace. He had spent the +night before by the side of the dying Omar, and now, after twenty-four +hours, his memory persisted in returning to that low and sombre reed +hut from which the fierce spirit of the incomparably accomplished pirate +took its flight, to learn too late, in a worse world, the error of +its earthly ways. The mind of the savage statesman, chastened by +bereavement, felt for a moment the weight of his loneliness with +keen perception worthy even of a sensibility exasperated by all the +refinements of tender sentiment that a glorious civilization brings in +its train, among other blessings and virtues, into this excellent world. +For the space of about thirty seconds, a half-naked, betel-chewing +pessimist stood upon the bank of the tropical river, on the edge of the +still and immense forests; a man angry, powerless, empty-handed, with a +cry of bitter discontent ready on his lips; a cry that, had it come out, +would have rung through the virgin solitudes of the woods, as true, as +great, as profound, as any philosophical shriek that ever came from the +depths of an easy-chair to disturb the impure wilderness of chimneys and +roofs. + +For half a minute and no more did Babalatchi face the gods in the +sublime privilege of his revolt, and then the one-eyed puller of wires +became himself again, full of care and wisdom and far-reaching plans, +and a victim to the tormenting superstitions of his race. The night, no +matter how quiet, is never perfectly silent to attentive ears, and now +Babalatchi fancied he could detect in it other noises than those caused +by the ripples and eddies of the river. He turned his head sharply to +the right and to the left in succession, and then spun round quickly in +a startled and watchful manner, as if he had expected to see the blind +ghost of his departed leader wandering in the obscurity of the empty +courtyard behind his back. Nothing there. Yet he had heard a noise; +a strange noise! No doubt a ghostly voice of a complaining and angry +spirit. He listened. Not a sound. Reassured, Babalatchi made a few paces +towards his house, when a very human noise, that of hoarse coughing, +reached him from the river. He stopped, listened attentively, but now +without any sign of emotion, and moving briskly back to the waterside +stood expectant with parted lips, trying to pierce with his eye the +wavering curtain of mist that hung low over the water. He could see +nothing, yet some people in a canoe must have been very near, for he +heard words spoken in an ordinary tone. + +“Do you think this is the place, Ali? I can see nothing.” + +“It must be near here, Tuan,” answered another voice. “Shall we try the +bank?” + +“No! . . . Let drift a little. If you go poking into the bank in the +dark you might stove the canoe on some log. We must be careful. . . . +Let drift! Let drift! . . . This does seem to be a clearing of +some sort. We may see a light by and by from some house or other. In +Lakamba’s campong there are many houses? Hey?” + +“A great number, Tuan . . . I do not see any light.” + +“Nor I,” grumbled the first voice again, this time nearly abreast of the +silent Babalatchi who looked uneasily towards his own house, the doorway +of which glowed with the dim light of a torch burning within. The +house stood end on to the river, and its doorway faced down-stream, so +Babalatchi reasoned rapidly that the strangers on the river could not +see the light from the position their boat was in at the moment. He +could not make up his mind to call out to them, and while he hesitated +he heard the voices again, but now some way below the landing-place +where he stood. + +“Nothing. This cannot be it. Let them give way, Ali! Dayong there!” + +That order was followed by the splash of paddles, then a sudden cry-- + +“I see a light. I see it! Now I know where to land, Tuan.” + +There was more splashing as the canoe was paddled sharply round and came +back up-stream close to the bank. + +“Call out,” said very near a deep voice, which Babalatchi felt sure must +belong to a white man. “Call out--and somebody may come with a torch. I +can’t see anything.” + +The loud hail that succeeded these words was emitted nearly under the +silent listener’s nose. Babalatchi, to preserve appearances, ran with +long but noiseless strides halfway up the courtyard, and only then +shouted in answer and kept on shouting as he walked slowly back again +towards the river bank. He saw there an indistinct shape of a boat, not +quite alongside the landing-place. + +“Who speaks on the river?” asked Babalatchi, throwing a tone of surprise +into his question. + +“A white man,” answered Lingard from the canoe. “Is there not one torch +in rich Lakamba’s campong to light a guest on his landing?” + +“There are no torches and no men. I am alone here,” said Babalatchi, +with some hesitation. + +“Alone!” exclaimed Lingard. “Who are you?” + +“Only a servant of Lakamba. But land, Tuan Putih, and see my face. Here +is my hand. No! Here! . . . By your mercy. . . . Ada! . . . Now you are +safe.” + +“And you are alone here?” said Lingard, moving with precaution a few +steps into the courtyard. “How dark it is,” he muttered to himself--“one +would think the world had been painted black.” + +“Yes. Alone. What more did you say, Tuan? I did not understand your +talk.” + +“It is nothing. I expected to find here . . . But where are they all?” + +“What matters where they are?” said Babalatchi, gloomily. “Have you come +to see my people? The last departed on a long journey--and I am alone. +Tomorrow I go too.” + +“I came to see a white man,” said Lingard, walking on slowly. “He is not +gone, is he?” + +“No!” answered Babalatchi, at his elbow. “A man with a red skin and hard +eyes,” he went on, musingly, “whose hand is strong, and whose heart is +foolish and weak. A white man indeed . . . But still a man.” + +They were now at the foot of the short ladder which led to the +split-bamboo platform surrounding Babalatchi’s habitation. The faint +light from the doorway fell down upon the two men’s faces as they stood +looking at each other curiously. + +“Is he there?” asked Lingard, in a low voice, with a wave of his hand +upwards. + +Babalatchi, staring hard at his long-expected visitor, did not answer at +once. “No, not there,” he said at last, placing his foot on the lowest +rung and looking back. “Not there, Tuan--yet not very far. Will you sit +down in my dwelling? There may be rice and fish and clear water--not +from the river, but from a spring . . .” + +“I am not hungry,” interrupted Lingard, curtly, “and I did not come here +to sit in your dwelling. Lead me to the white man who expects me. I have +no time to lose.” + +“The night is long, Tuan,” went on Babalatchi, softly, “and there are +other nights and other days. Long. Very long . . . How much time it +takes for a man to die! O Rajah Laut!” + +Lingard started. + +“You know me!” he exclaimed. + +“Ay--wa! I have seen your face and felt your hand before--many years +ago,” said Babalatchi, holding on halfway up the ladder, and bending +down from above to peer into Lingard’s upturned face. “You do not +remember--but I have not forgotten. There are many men like me: there is +only one Rajah Laut.” + +He climbed with sudden agility the last few steps, and stood on the +platform waving his hand invitingly to Lingard, who followed after a +short moment of indecision. + +The elastic bamboo floor of the hut bent under the heavy weight of the +old seaman, who, standing within the threshold, tried to look into the +smoky gloom of the low dwelling. Under the torch, thrust into the cleft +of a stick, fastened at a right angle to the middle stay of the ridge +pole, lay a red patch of light, showing a few shabby mats and a corner +of a big wooden chest the rest of which was lost in shadow. In the +obscurity of the more remote parts of the house a lance-head, a brass +tray hung on the wall, the long barrel of a gun leaning against the +chest, caught the stray rays of the smoky illumination in trembling +gleams that wavered, disappeared, reappeared, went out, came back--as if +engaged in a doubtful struggle with the darkness that, lying in wait in +distant corners, seemed to dart out viciously towards its feeble enemy. +The vast space under the high pitch of the roof was filled with a thick +cloud of smoke, whose under-side--level like a ceiling--reflected the +light of the swaying dull flame, while at the top it oozed out through +the imperfect thatch of dried palm leaves. An indescribable and +complicated smell, made up of the exhalation of damp earth below, of +the taint of dried fish and of the effluvia of rotting vegetable matter, +pervaded the place and caused Lingard to sniff strongly as he strode +over, sat on the chest, and, leaning his elbows on his knees, took his +head between his hands and stared at the doorway thoughtfully. + +Babalatchi moved about in the shadows, whispering to an indistinct form +or two that flitted about at the far end of the hut. Without stirring +Lingard glanced sideways, and caught sight of muffled-up human shapes +that hovered for a moment near the edge of light and retreated suddenly +back into the darkness. Babalatchi approached, and sat at Lingard’s feet +on a rolled-up bundle of mats. + +“Will you eat rice and drink sagueir?” he said. “I have waked up my +household.” + +“My friend,” said Lingard, without looking at him, “when I come to +see Lakamba, or any of Lakamba’s servants, I am never hungry and never +thirsty. Tau! Savee! Never! Do you think I am devoid of reason? That +there is nothing there?” + +He sat up, and, fixing abruptly his eyes on Babalatchi, tapped his own +forehead significantly. + +“Tse! Tse! Tse! How can you talk like that, Tuan!” exclaimed Babalatchi, +in a horrified tone. + +“I talk as I think. I have lived many years,” said Lingard, stretching +his arm negligently to take up the gun, which he began to examine +knowingly, cocking it, and easing down the hammer several times. “This +is good. Mataram make. Old, too,” he went on. + +“Hai!” broke in Babalatchi, eagerly. “I got it when I was young. He +was an Aru trader, a man with a big stomach and a loud voice, and +brave--very brave. When we came up with his prau in the grey morning, he +stood aft shouting to his men and fired this gun at us once. Only once!” + . . . He paused, laughed softly, and went on in a low, dreamy voice. “In +the grey morning we came up: forty silent men in a swift Sulu prau; and +when the sun was so high”--here he held up his hands about three feet +apart--“when the sun was only so high, Tuan, our work was done--and +there was a feast ready for the fishes of the sea.” + +“Aye! aye!” muttered Lingard, nodding his head slowly. “I see. You +should not let it get rusty like this,” he added. + +He let the gun fall between his knees, and moving back on his seat, +leaned his head against the wall of the hut, crossing his arms on his +breast. + +“A good gun,” went on Babalatchi. “Carry far and true. Better than +this--there.” + +With the tips of his fingers he touched gently the butt of a revolver +peeping out of the right pocket of Lingard’s white jacket. + +“Take your hand off that,” said Lingard sharply, but in a good-humoured +tone and without making the slightest movement. + +Babalatchi smiled and hitched his seat a little further off. + +For some time they sat in silence. Lingard, with his head tilted back, +looked downwards with lowered eyelids at Babalatchi, who was tracing +invisible lines with his finger on the mat between his feet. Outside, +they could hear Ali and the other boatmen chattering and laughing round +the fire they had lighted in the big and deserted courtyard. + +“Well, what about that white man?” said Lingard, quietly. + +It seemed as if Babalatchi had not heard the question. He went on +tracing elaborate patterns on the floor for a good while. Lingard waited +motionless. At last the Malay lifted his head. + +“Hai! The white man. I know!” he murmured absently. “This white man or +another. . . . Tuan,” he said aloud with unexpected animation, “you are +a man of the sea?” + +“You know me. Why ask?” said Lingard, in a low tone. + +“Yes. A man of the sea--even as we are. A true Orang Laut,” went on +Babalatchi, thoughtfully, “not like the rest of the white men.” + +“I am like other whites, and do not wish to speak many words when the +truth is short. I came here to see the white man that helped Lakamba +against Patalolo, who is my friend. Show me where that white man lives; +I want him to hear my talk.” + +“Talk only? Tuan! Why hurry? The night is long and death is swift--as +you ought to know; you who have dealt it to so many of my people. Many +years ago I have faced you, arms in hand. Do you not remember? It was in +Carimata--far from here.” + +“I cannot remember every vagabond that came in my way,” protested +Lingard, seriously. + +“Hai! Hai!” continued Babalatchi, unmoved and dreamy. “Many years +ago. Then all this”--and looking up suddenly at Lingard’s beard, he +flourished his fingers below his own beardless chin--“then all this was +like gold in sunlight, now it is like the foam of an angry sea.” + +“Maybe, maybe,” said Lingard, patiently, paying the involuntary tribute +of a faint sigh to the memories of the past evoked by Babalatchi’s +words. + +He had been living with Malays so long and so close that the extreme +deliberation and deviousness of their mental proceedings had ceased to +irritate him much. To-night, perhaps, he was less prone to impatience +than ever. He was disposed, if not to listen to Babalatchi, then to let +him talk. It was evident to him that the man had something to say, and +he hoped that from the talk a ray of light would shoot through the thick +blackness of inexplicable treachery, to show him clearly--if only for +a second--the man upon whom he would have to execute the verdict of +justice. Justice only! Nothing was further from his thoughts than such +an useless thing as revenge. Justice only. It was his duty that justice +should be done--and by his own hand. He did not like to think how. To +him, as to Babalatchi, it seemed that the night would be long enough for +the work he had to do. But he did not define to himself the nature +of the work, and he sat very still, and willingly dilatory, under the +fearsome oppression of his call. What was the good to think about it? +It was inevitable, and its time was near. Yet he could not command his +memories that came crowding round him in that evil-smelling hut, while +Babalatchi talked on in a flowing monotone, nothing of him moving but +the lips, in the artificially inanimated face. Lingard, like an anchored +ship that had broken her sheer, darted about here and there on the rapid +tide of his recollections. The subdued sound of soft words rang around +him, but his thoughts were lost, now in the contemplation of the past +sweetness and strife of Carimata days, now in the uneasy wonder at the +failure of his judgment; at the fatal blindness of accident that had +caused him, many years ago, to rescue a half-starved runaway from a +Dutch ship in Samarang roads. How he had liked the man: his assurance, +his push, his desire to get on, his conceited good-humour and his +selfish eloquence. He had liked his very faults--those faults that had +so many, to him, sympathetic sides. + +And he had always dealt fairly by him from the very beginning; and +he would deal fairly by him now--to the very end. This last thought +darkened Lingard’s features with a responsive and menacing frown. The +doer of justice sat with compressed lips and a heavy heart, while in the +calm darkness outside the silent world seemed to be waiting breathlessly +for that justice he held in his hand--in his strong hand:--ready to +strike--reluctant to move. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +Babalatchi ceased speaking. Lingard shifted his feet a little, uncrossed +his arms, and shook his head slowly. The narrative of the events in +Sambir, related from the point of view of the astute statesman, the +sense of which had been caught here and there by his inattentive ears, +had been yet like a thread to guide him out of the sombre labyrinth of +his thoughts; and now he had come to the end of it, out of the tangled +past into the pressing necessities of the present. With the palms of his +hands on his knees, his elbows squared out, he looked down on Babalatchi +who sat in a stiff attitude, inexpressive and mute as a talking doll the +mechanism of which had at length run down. + +“You people did all this,” said Lingard at last, “and you will be sorry +for it before the dry wind begins to blow again. Abdulla’s voice will +bring the Dutch rule here.” + +Babalatchi waved his hand towards the dark doorway. + +“There are forests there. Lakamba rules the land now. Tell me, Tuan, do +you think the big trees know the name of the ruler? No. They are born, +they grow, they live and they die--yet know not, feel not. It is their +land.” + +“Even a big tree may be killed by a small axe,” said Lingard, drily. +“And, remember, my one-eyed friend, that axes are made by white hands. +You will soon find that out, since you have hoisted the flag of the +Dutch.” + +“Ay--wa!” said Babalatchi, slowly. “It is written that the earth belongs +to those who have fair skins and hard but foolish hearts. The farther +away is the master, the easier it is for the slave, Tuan! You were too +near. Your voice rang in our ears always. Now it is not going to be so. +The great Rajah in Batavia is strong, but he may be deceived. He must +speak very loud to be heard here. But if we have need to shout, then he +must hear the many voices that call for protection. He is but a white +man.” + +“If I ever spoke to Patalolo, like an elder brother, it was for your +good--for the good of all,” said Lingard with great earnestness. + +“This is a white man’s talk,” exclaimed Babalatchi, with bitter +exultation. “I know you. That is how you all talk while you load your +guns and sharpen your swords; and when you are ready, then to those who +are weak you say: ‘Obey me and be happy, or die! You are strange, you +white men. You think it is only your wisdom and your virtue and your +happiness that are true. You are stronger than the wild beasts, but not +so wise. A black tiger knows when he is not hungry--you do not. He knows +the difference between himself and those that can speak; you do not +understand the difference between yourselves and us--who are men. You +are wise and great--and you shall always be fools.” + +He threw up both his hands, stirring the sleeping cloud of smoke that +hung above his head, and brought the open palms on the flimsy floor on +each side of his outstretched legs. The whole hut shook. Lingard looked +at the excited statesman curiously. + +“Apa! Apa! What’s the matter?” he murmured, soothingly. “Whom did I kill +here? Where are my guns? What have I done? What have I eaten up?” + +Babalatchi calmed down, and spoke with studied courtesy. + +“You, Tuan, are of the sea, and more like what we are. Therefore I speak +to you all the words that are in my heart. . . . Only once has the sea +been stronger than the Rajah of the sea.” + +“You know it; do you?” said Lingard, with pained sharpness. + +“Hai! We have heard about your ship--and some rejoiced. Not I. Amongst +the whites, who are devils, you are a man.” + +“Trima kassi! I give you thanks,” said Lingard, gravely. + +Babalatchi looked down with a bashful smile, but his face became +saddened directly, and when he spoke again it was in a mournful tone. + +“Had you come a day sooner, Tuan, you would have seen an enemy die. You +would have seen him die poor, blind, unhappy--with no son to dig his +grave and speak of his wisdom and courage. Yes; you would have seen the +man that fought you in Carimata many years ago, die alone--but for one +friend. A great sight to you.” + +“Not to me,” answered Lingard. “I did not even remember him till +you spoke his name just now. You do not understand us. We fight, we +vanquish--and we forget.” + +“True, true,” said Babalatchi, with polite irony; “you whites are so +great that you disdain to remember your enemies. No! No!” he went on, in +the same tone, “you have so much mercy for us, that there is no room for +any remembrance. Oh, you are great and good! But it is in my mind that +amongst yourselves you know how to remember. Is it not so, Tuan?” + +Lingard said nothing. His shoulders moved imperceptibly. He laid his gun +across his knees and stared at the flint lock absently. + +“Yes,” went on Babalatchi, falling again into a mournful mood, “yes, he +died in darkness. I sat by his side and held his hand, but he could not +see the face of him who watched the faint breath on his lips. She, whom +he had cursed because of the white man, was there too, and wept with +covered face. The white man walked about the courtyard making many +noises. Now and then he would come to the doorway and glare at us who +mourned. He stared with wicked eyes, and then I was glad that he who was +dying was blind. This is true talk. I was glad; for a white man’s eyes +are not good to see when the devil that lives within is looking out +through them.” + +“Devil! Hey?” said Lingard, half aloud to himself, as if struck with the +obviousness of some novel idea. Babalatchi went on: + +“At the first hour of the morning he sat up--he so weak--and said +plainly some words that were not meant for human ears. I held his hand +tightly, but it was time for the leader of brave men to go amongst the +Faithful who are happy. They of my household brought a white sheet, and +I began to dig a grave in the hut in which he died. She mourned aloud. +The white man came to the doorway and shouted. He was angry. Angry with +her because she beat her breast, and tore her hair, and mourned with +shrill cries as a woman should. Do you understand what I say, Tuan? +That white man came inside the hut with great fury, and took her by the +shoulder, and dragged her out. Yes, Tuan. I saw Omar dead, and I saw her +at the feet of that white dog who has deceived me. I saw his face grey, +like the cold mist of the morning; I saw his pale eyes looking down at +Omar’s daughter beating her head on the ground at his feet. At the feet +of him who is Abdulla’s slave. Yes, he lives by Abdulla’s will. That is +why I held my hand while I saw all this. I held my hand because we are +now under the flag of the Orang Blanda, and Abdulla can speak into the +ears of the great. We must not have any trouble with white men. Abdulla +has spoken--and I must obey.” + +“That’s it, is it?” growled Lingard in his moustache. Then in Malay, “It +seems that you are angry, O Babalatchi!” + +“No; I am not angry, Tuan,” answered Babalatchi, descending from the +insecure heights of his indignation into the insincere depths of safe +humility. “I am not angry. What am I to be angry? I am only an Orang +Laut, and I have fled before your people many times. Servant of this +one--protected of another; I have given my counsel here and there for a +handful of rice. What am I, to be angry with a white man? What is anger +without the power to strike? But you whites have taken all: the land, +the sea, and the power to strike! And there is nothing left for us in +the islands but your white men’s justice; your great justice that knows +not anger.” + +He got up and stood for a moment in the doorway, sniffing the hot air of +the courtyard, then turned back and leaned against the stay of the ridge +pole, facing Lingard who kept his seat on the chest. The torch, consumed +nearly to the end, burned noisily. Small explosions took place in the +heart of the flame, driving through its smoky blaze strings of hard, +round puffs of white smoke, no bigger than peas, which rolled out of +doors in the faint draught that came from invisible cracks of the bamboo +walls. The pungent taint of unclean things below and about the hut +grew heavier, weighing down Lingard’s resolution and his thoughts in an +irresistible numbness of the brain. He thought drowsily of himself and +of that man who wanted to see him--who waited to see him. Who waited! +Night and day. Waited. . . . A spiteful but vaporous idea floated +through his brain that such waiting could not be very pleasant to the +fellow. Well, let him wait. He would see him soon enough. And for how +long? Five seconds--five minutes--say nothing--say something. What? No! +Just give him time to take one good look, and then . . . + +Suddenly Babalatchi began to speak in a soft voice. Lingard blinked, +cleared his throat--sat up straight. + +“You know all now, Tuan. Lakamba dwells in the stockaded house of +Patalolo; Abdulla has begun to build godowns of plank and stone; and now +that Omar is dead, I myself shall depart from this place and live with +Lakamba and speak in his ear. I have served many. The best of them all +sleeps in the ground in a white sheet, with nothing to mark his grave +but the ashes of the hut in which he died. Yes, Tuan! the white man +destroyed it himself. With a blazing brand in his hand he strode around, +shouting to me to come out--shouting to me, who was throwing earth on +the body of a great leader. Yes; swearing to me by the name of your +God and ours that he would burn me and her in there if we did not make +haste. . . . Hai! The white men are very masterful and wise. I dragged +her out quickly!” + +“Oh, damn it!” exclaimed Lingard--then went on in Malay, speaking +earnestly. “Listen. That man is not like other white men. You know he is +not. He is not a man at all. He is . . . I don’t know.” + +Babalatchi lifted his hand deprecatingly. His eye twinkled, and his +red-stained big lips, parted by an expressionless grin, uncovered a +stumpy row of black teeth filed evenly to the gums. + +“Hai! Hai! Not like you. Not like you,” he said, increasing the softness +of his tones as he neared the object uppermost in his mind during that +much-desired interview. “Not like you, Tuan, who are like ourselves, +only wiser and stronger. Yet he, also, is full of great cunning, and +speaks of you without any respect, after the manner of white men when +they talk of one another.” + +Lingard leaped in his seat as if he had been prodded. + +“He speaks! What does he say?” he shouted. + +“Nay, Tuan,” protested the composed Babalatchi; “what matters his talk +if he is not a man? I am nothing before you--why should I repeat words +of one white man about another? He did boast to Abdulla of having +learned much from your wisdom in years past. Other words I have +forgotten. Indeed, Tuan, I have . . .” + +Lingard cut short Babalatchi’s protestations by a contemptuous wave of +the hand and reseated himself with dignity. + +“I shall go,” said Babalatchi, “and the white man will remain here, +alone with the spirit of the dead and with her who has been the delight +of his heart. He, being white, cannot hear the voice of those that +died. . . . Tell me, Tuan,” he went on, looking at Lingard with +curiosity--“tell me, Tuan, do you white people ever hear the voices of +the invisible ones?” + +“We do not,” answered Lingard, “because those that we cannot see do not +speak.” + +“Never speak! And never complain with sounds that are not words?” + exclaimed Babalatchi, doubtingly. “It may be so--or your ears are +dull. We Malays hear many sounds near the places where men are buried. +To-night I heard . . . Yes, even I have heard. . . . I do not want to +hear any more,” he added, nervously. “Perhaps I was wrong when I . . . +There are things I regret. The trouble was heavy in his heart when he +died. Sometimes I think I was wrong . . . but I do not want to hear +the complaint of invisible lips. Therefore I go, Tuan. Let the unquiet +spirit speak to his enemy the white man who knows not fear, or love, +or mercy--knows nothing but contempt and violence. I have been wrong! I +have! Hai! Hai!” + +He stood for awhile with his elbow in the palm of his left hand, the +fingers of the other over his lips as if to stifle the expression of +inconvenient remorse; then, after glancing at the torch, burnt out +nearly to its end, he moved towards the wall by the chest, fumbled about +there and suddenly flung open a large shutter of attaps woven in a light +framework of sticks. Lingard swung his legs quickly round the corner of +his seat. + +“Hallo!” he said, surprised. + +The cloud of smoke stirred, and a slow wisp curled out through the new +opening. The torch flickered, hissed, and went out, the glowing end +falling on the mat, whence Babalatchi snatched it up and tossed it +outside through the open square. It described a vanishing curve of red +light, and lay below, shining feebly in the vast darkness. Babalatchi +remained with his arm stretched out into the empty night. + +“There,” he said, “you can see the white man’s courtyard, Tuan, and his +house.” + +“I can see nothing,” answered Lingard, putting his head through the +shutter-hole. “It’s too dark.” + +“Wait, Tuan,” urged Babalatchi. “You have been looking long at the +burning torch. You will soon see. Mind the gun, Tuan. It is loaded.” + +“There is no flint in it. You could not find a fire-stone for a hundred +miles round this spot,” said Lingard, testily. “Foolish thing to load +that gun.” + +“I have a stone. I had it from a man wise and pious that lives in Menang +Kabau. A very pious man--very good fire. He spoke words over that stone +that make its sparks good. And the gun is good--carries straight and +far. Would carry from here to the door of the white man’s house, I +believe, Tuan.” + +“Tida apa. Never mind your gun,” muttered Lingard, peering into the +formless darkness. “Is that the house--that black thing over there?” he +asked. + +“Yes,” answered Babalatchi; “that is his house. He lives there by the +will of Abdulla, and shall live there till . . . From where you stand, +Tuan, you can look over the fence and across the courtyard straight at +the door--at the door from which he comes out every morning, looking +like a man that had seen Jehannum in his sleep.” + +Lingard drew his head in. Babalatchi touched his shoulder with a groping +hand. + +“Wait a little, Tuan. Sit still. The morning is not far off now--a +morning without sun after a night without stars. But there will be light +enough to see the man who said not many days ago that he alone has made +you less than a child in Sambir.” + +He felt a slight tremor under his hand, but took it off directly and +began feeling all over the lid of the chest, behind Lingard’s back, for +the gun. + +“What are you at?” said Lingard, impatiently. “You do worry about that +rotten gun. You had better get a light.” + +“A light! I tell you, Tuan, that the light of heaven is very near,” + said Babalatchi, who had now obtained possession of the object of his +solicitude, and grasping it strongly by its long barrel, grounded the +stock at his feet. + +“Perhaps it is near,” said Lingard, leaning both his elbows on the lower +cross-piece of the primitive window and looking out. “It is very black +outside yet,” he remarked carelessly. + +Babalatchi fidgeted about. + +“It is not good for you to sit where you may be seen,” he muttered. + +“Why not?” asked Lingard. + +“The white man sleeps, it is true,” explained Babalatchi, softly; “yet +he may come out early, and he has arms.” + +“Ah! he has arms?” said Lingard. + +“Yes; a short gun that fires many times--like yours here. Abdulla had to +give it to him.” + +Lingard heard Babalatchi’s words, but made no movement. To the old +adventurer the idea that fire arms could be dangerous in other hands +than his own did not occur readily, and certainly not in connection with +Willems. He was so busy with the thoughts about what he considered +his own sacred duty, that he could not give any consideration to the +probable actions of the man of whom he thought--as one may think of an +executed criminal--with wondering indignation tempered by scornful pity. +While he sat staring into the darkness, that every minute grew thinner +before his pensive eyes, like a dispersing mist, Willems appeared to him +as a figure belonging already wholly to the past--a figure that could +come in no way into his life again. He had made up his mind, and the +thing was as well as done. In his weary thoughts he had closed this +fatal, inexplicable, and horrible episode in his life. The worst had +happened. The coming days would see the retribution. + +He had removed an enemy once or twice before, out of his path; he had +paid off some very heavy scores a good many times. Captain Tom had been +a good friend to many: but it was generally understood, from Honolulu +round about to Diego Suarez, that Captain Tom’s enmity was rather more +than any man single-handed could easily manage. He would not, as he said +often, hurt a fly as long as the fly left him alone; yet a man does not +live for years beyond the pale of civilized laws without evolving for +himself some queer notions of justice. Nobody of those he knew had ever +cared to point out to him the errors of his conceptions. + +It was not worth anybody’s while to run counter to Lingard’s ideas of +the fitness of things--that fact was acquired to the floating wisdom +of the South Seas, of the Eastern Archipelago, and was nowhere better +understood than in out-of-the-way nooks of the world; in those nooks +which he filled, unresisted and masterful, with the echoes of his noisy +presence. There is not much use in arguing with a man who boasts of +never having regretted a single action of his life, whose answer to a +mild criticism is a good-natured shout--“You know nothing about it. +I would do it again. Yes, sir!” His associates and his acquaintances +accepted him, his opinions, his actions like things preordained and +unchangeable; looked upon his many-sided manifestations with passive +wonder not unmixed with that admiration which is only the rightful due +of a successful man. But nobody had ever seen him in the mood he was in +now. Nobody had seen Lingard doubtful and giving way to doubt, unable to +make up his mind and unwilling to act; Lingard timid and hesitating one +minute, angry yet inactive the next; Lingard puzzled in a word, because +confronted with a situation that discomposed him by its unprovoked +malevolence, by its ghastly injustice, that to his rough but +unsophisticated palate tasted distinctly of sulphurous fumes from the +deepest hell. + +The smooth darkness filling the shutter-hole grew paler and became +blotchy with ill-defined shapes, as if a new universe was being evolved +out of sombre chaos. Then outlines came out, defining forms without any +details, indicating here a tree, there a bush; a black belt of forest +far off; the straight lines of a house, the ridge of a high roof near +by. Inside the hut, Babalatchi, who lately had been only a persuasive +voice, became a human shape leaning its chin imprudently on the muzzle +of a gun and rolling an uneasy eye over the reappearing world. The day +came rapidly, dismal and oppressed by the fog of the river and by the +heavy vapours of the sky--a day without colour and without sunshine: +incomplete, disappointing, and sad. + +Babalatchi twitched gently Lingard’s sleeve, and when the old seaman +had lifted up his head interrogatively, he stretched out an arm and a +pointing forefinger towards Willems’ house, now plainly visible to the +right and beyond the big tree of the courtyard. + +“Look, Tuan!” he said. “He lives there. That is the door--his door. +Through it he will appear soon, with his hair in disorder and his mouth +full of curses. That is so. He is a white man, and never satisfied. It +is in my mind he is angry even in his sleep. A dangerous man. As Tuan +may observe,” he went on, obsequiously, “his door faces this opening, +where you condescend to sit, which is concealed from all eyes. Faces +it--straight--and not far. Observe, Tuan, not at all far.” + +“Yes, yes; I can see. I shall see him when he wakes.” + +“No doubt, Tuan. When he wakes. . . . If you remain here he can not see +you. I shall withdraw quickly and prepare my canoe myself. I am only a +poor man, and must go to Sambir to greet Lakamba when he opens his eyes. +I must bow before Abdulla who has strength--even more strength than you. +Now if you remain here, you shall easily behold the man who boasted to +Abdulla that he had been your friend, even while he prepared to fight +those who called you protector. Yes, he plotted with Abdulla for that +cursed flag. Lakamba was blind then, and I was deceived. But you, Tuan! +Remember, he deceived you more. Of that he boasted before all men.” + +He leaned the gun quietly against the wall close to the window, and said +softly: “Shall I go now, Tuan? Be careful of the gun. I have put the +fire-stone in. The fire-stone of the wise man, which never fails.” + +Lingard’s eyes were fastened on the distant doorway. Across his line +of sight, in the grey emptiness of the courtyard, a big fruit-pigeon +flapped languidly towards the forests with a loud booming cry, like +the note of a deep gong: a brilliant bird looking in the gloom of +threatening day as black as a crow. A serried flock of white rice birds +rose above the trees with a faint scream, and hovered, swaying in a +disordered mass that suddenly scattered in all directions, as if burst +asunder by a silent explosion. Behind his back Lingard heard a shuffle +of feet--women leaving the hut. In the other courtyard a voice was heard +complaining of cold, and coming very feeble, but exceedingly distinct, +out of the vast silence of the abandoned houses and clearings. +Babalatchi coughed discreetly. From under the house the thumping of +wooden pestles husking the rice started with unexpected abruptness. The +weak but clear voice in the yard again urged, “Blow up the embers, O +brother!” Another voice answered, drawling in modulated, thin sing-song, +“Do it yourself, O shivering pig!” and the drawl of the last words +stopped short, as if the man had fallen into a deep hole. Babalatchi +coughed again a little impatiently, and said in a confidential tone-- + +“Do you think it is time for me to go, Tuan? Will you take care of my +gun, Tuan? I am a man that knows how to obey; even obey Abdulla, who has +deceived me. Nevertheless this gun carries far and true--if you would +want to know, Tuan. And I have put in a double measure of powder, and +three slugs. Yes, Tuan. Now--perhaps--I go.” + +When Babalatchi commenced speaking, Lingard turned slowly round and +gazed upon him with the dull and unwilling look of a sick man waking to +another day of suffering. As the astute statesman proceeded, Lingard’s +eyebrows came close, his eyes became animated, and a big vein stood out +on his forehead, accentuating a lowering frown. When speaking his last +words Babalatchi faltered, then stopped, confused, before the steady +gaze of the old seaman. + +Lingard rose. His face cleared, and he looked down at the anxious +Babalatchi with sudden benevolence. + +“So! That’s what you were after,” he said, laying a heavy hand on +Babalatchi’s yielding shoulder. “You thought I came here to murder him. +Hey? Speak! You faithful dog of an Arab trader!” + +“And what else, Tuan?” shrieked Babalatchi, exasperated into sincerity. +“What else, Tuan! Remember what he has done; he poisoned our ears with +his talk about you. You are a man. If you did not come to kill, Tuan, +then either I am a fool or . . .” + +He paused, struck his naked breast with his open palm, and finished in a +discouraged whisper--“or, Tuan, you are.” + +Lingard looked down at him with scornful serenity. After his long and +painful gropings amongst the obscure abominations of Willems’ conduct, +the logical if tortuous evolutions of Babalatchi’s diplomatic mind +were to him welcome as daylight. There was something at last he could +understand--the clear effect of a simple cause. He felt indulgent +towards the disappointed sage. + +“So you are angry with your friend, O one-eyed one!” he said slowly, +nodding his fierce countenance close to Babalatchi’s discomfited face. +“It seems to me that you must have had much to do with what happened in +Sambir lately. Hey? You son of a burnt father.” + +“May I perish under your hand, O Rajah of the sea, if my words are not +true!” said Babalatchi, with reckless excitement. “You are here in the +midst of your enemies. He the greatest. Abdulla would do nothing without +him, and I could do nothing without Abdulla. Strike me--so that you +strike all!” + +“Who are you,” exclaimed Lingard contemptuously--“who are you to +dare call yourself my enemy! Dirt! Nothing! Go out first,” he went on +severely. “Lakas! quick. March out!” + +He pushed Babalatchi through the doorway and followed him down the short +ladder into the courtyard. The boatmen squatting over the fire turned +their slow eyes with apparent difficulty towards the two men; then, +unconcerned, huddled close together again, stretching forlornly their +hands over the embers. The women stopped in their work and with uplifted +pestles flashed quick and curious glances from the gloom under the +house. + +“Is that the way?” asked Lingard with a nod towards the little +wicket-gate of Willems’ enclosure. + +“If you seek death, that is surely the way,” answered Babalatchi in a +dispassionate voice, as if he had exhausted all the emotions. “He lives +there: he who destroyed your friends; who hastened Omar’s death; who +plotted with Abdulla first against you, then against me. I have been +like a child. O shame! . . . But go, Tuan. Go there.” + +“I go where I like,” said Lingard, emphatically, “and you may go to the +devil; I do not want you any more. The islands of these seas shall sink +before I, Rajah Laut, serve the will of any of your people. Tau? But I +tell you this: I do not care what you do with him after to-day. And I +say that because I am merciful.” + +“Tida! I do nothing,” said Babalatchi, shaking his head with bitter +apathy. “I am in Abdulla’s hand and care not, even as you do. No! no!” + he added, turning away, “I have learned much wisdom this morning. There +are no men anywhere. You whites are cruel to your friends and merciful +to your enemies--which is the work of fools.” + +He went away towards the riverside, and, without once looking back, +disappeared in the low bank of mist that lay over the water and the +shore. Lingard followed him with his eyes thoughtfully. After awhile he +roused himself and called out to his boatmen-- + +“Hai--ya there! After you have eaten rice, wait for me with your paddles +in your hands. You hear?” + +“Ada, Tuan!” answered Ali through the smoke of the morning fire that was +spreading itself, low and gentle, over the courtyard--“we hear!” + +Lingard opened slowly the little wicket-gate, made a few steps into +the empty enclosure, and stopped. He had felt about his head the short +breath of a puff of wind that passed him, made every leaf of the big +tree shiver--and died out in a hardly perceptible tremor of branches and +twigs. Instinctively he glanced upwards with a seaman’s impulse. Above +him, under the grey motionless waste of a stormy sky, drifted low black +vapours, in stretching bars, in shapeless patches, in sinuous wisps and +tormented spirals. Over the courtyard and the house floated a round, +sombre, and lingering cloud, dragging behind a tail of tangled and filmy +streamers--like the dishevelled hair of a mourning woman. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +“Beware!” + +The tremulous effort and the broken, inadequate tone of the faint cry, +surprised Lingard more than the unexpected suddenness of the warning +conveyed, he did not know by whom and to whom. Besides himself there was +no one in the courtyard as far as he could see. + +The cry was not renewed, and his watchful eyes, scanning warily the +misty solitude of Willems’ enclosure, were met everywhere only by the +stolid impassiveness of inanimate things: the big sombre-looking tree, +the shut-up, sightless house, the glistening bamboo fences, the damp and +drooping bushes further off--all these things, that condemned to look +for ever at the incomprehensible afflictions or joys of mankind, assert +in their aspect of cold unconcern the high dignity of lifeless matter +that surrounds, incurious and unmoved, the restless mysteries of the +ever-changing, of the never-ending life. + +Lingard, stepping aside, put the trunk of the tree between himself +and the house, then, moving cautiously round one of the projecting +buttresses, had to tread short in order to avoid scattering a small heap +of black embers upon which he came unexpectedly on the other side. A +thin, wizened, little old woman, who, standing behind the tree, had been +looking at the house, turned towards him with a start, gazed with faded, +expressionless eyes at the intruder, then made a limping attempt to get +away. She seemed, however, to realize directly the hopelessness or the +difficulty of the undertaking, stopped, hesitated, tottered back slowly; +then, after blinking dully, fell suddenly on her knees amongst the white +ashes, and, bending over the heap of smouldering coals, distended her +sunken cheeks in a steady effort to blow up the hidden sparks into a +useful blaze. Lingard looked down on her, but she seemed to have made +up her mind that there was not enough life left in her lean body for +anything else than the discharge of the simple domestic duty, and, +apparently, she begrudged him the least moment of attention. + +After waiting for awhile, Lingard asked-- + +“Why did you call, O daughter?” + +“I saw you enter,” she croaked feebly, still grovelling with her +face near the ashes and without looking up, “and I called--the cry of +warning. It was her order. Her order,” she repeated, with a moaning +sigh. + +“And did she hear?” pursued Lingard, with gentle composure. + +Her projecting shoulder-blades moved uneasily under the thin stuff of +the tight body jacket. She scrambled up with difficulty to her feet, +and hobbled away, muttering peevishly to herself, towards a pile of dry +brushwood heaped up against the fence. + +Lingard, looking idly after her, heard the rattle of loose planks that +led from the ground to the door of the house. He moved his head beyond +the shelter of the tree and saw Aissa coming down the inclined way into +the courtyard. After making a few hurried paces towards the tree, she +stopped with one foot advanced in an appearance of sudden terror, and +her eyes glanced wildly right and left. Her head was uncovered. A blue +cloth wrapped her from her head to foot in close slanting folds, with +one end thrown over her shoulder. A tress of her black hair strayed +across her bosom. Her bare arms pressed down close to her body, with +hands open and outstretched fingers; her slightly elevated shoulders and +the backward inclination of her torso gave her the aspect of one defiant +yet shrinking from a coming blow. She had closed the door of the house +behind her; and as she stood solitary in the unnatural and threatening +twilight of the murky day, with everything unchanged around her, she +appeared to Lingard as if she had been made there, on the spot, out +of the black vapours of the sky and of the sinister gleams of feeble +sunshine that struggled, through the thickening clouds, into the +colourless desolation of the world. + +After a short but attentive glance towards the shut-up house, Lingard +stepped out from behind the tree and advanced slowly towards her. The +sudden fixity of her--till then--restless eyes and a slight twitch of +her hands were the only signs she gave at first of having seen him. +She made a long stride forward, and putting herself right in his path, +stretched her arms across; her black eyes opened wide, her lips parted +as if in an uncertain attempt to speak--but no sound came out to break +the significant silence of their meeting. Lingard stopped and looked at +her with stern curiosity. After a while he said composedly-- + +“Let me pass. I came here to talk to a man. Does he hide? Has he sent +you?” + +She made a step nearer, her arms fell by her side, then she put them +straight out nearly touching Lingard’s breast. + +“He knows not fear,” she said, speaking low, with a forward throw of +her head, in a voice trembling but distinct. “It is my own fear that has +sent me here. He sleeps.” + +“He has slept long enough,” said Lingard, in measured tones. “I am +come--and now is the time of his waking. Go and tell him this--or else +my own voice will call him up. A voice he knows well.” + +He put her hands down firmly and again made as if to pass by her. + +“Do not!” she exclaimed, and fell at his feet as if she had been cut +down by a scythe. The unexpected suddenness of her movement startled +Lingard, who stepped back. + +“What’s this?” he exclaimed in a wondering whisper--then added in a tone +of sharp command: “Stand up!” + +She rose at once and stood looking at him, timorous and fearless; yet +with a fire of recklessness burning in her eyes that made clear her +resolve to pursue her purpose even to the death. Lingard went on in a +severe voice-- + +“Go out of my path. You are Omar’s daughter, and you ought to know that +when men meet in daylight women must be silent and abide their fate.” + +“Women!” she retorted, with subdued vehemence. “Yes, I am a woman! +Your eyes see that, O Rajah Laut, but can you see my life? I also have +heard--O man of many fights--I also have heard the voice of fire-arms; +I also have felt the rain of young twigs and of leaves cut up by bullets +fall down about my head; I also know how to look in silence at angry +faces and at strong hands raised high grasping sharp steel. I also saw +men fall dead around me without a cry of fear and of mourning; and I +have watched the sleep of weary fugitives, and looked at night shadows +full of menace and death with eyes that knew nothing but watchfulness. +And,” she went on, with a mournful drop in her voice, “I have faced the +heartless sea, held on my lap the heads of those who died raving from +thirst, and from their cold hands took the paddle and worked so that +those with me did not know that one man more was dead. I did all this. +What more have you done? That was my life. What has been yours?” + +The matter and the manner of her speech held Lingard motionless, +attentive and approving against his will. She ceased speaking, and from +her staring black eyes with a narrow border of white above and below, a +double ray of her very soul streamed out in a fierce desire to light +up the most obscure designs of his heart. After a long silence, which +served to emphasize the meaning of her words, she added in the whisper +of bitter regret-- + +“And I have knelt at your feet! And I am afraid!” + +“You,” said Lingard deliberately, and returning her look with an +interested gaze, “you are a woman whose heart, I believe, is great +enough to fill a man’s breast: but still you are a woman, and to you, I, +Rajah Laut, have nothing to say.” + +She listened bending her head in a movement of forced attention; and his +voice sounded to her unexpected, far off, with the distant and unearthly +ring of voices that we hear in dreams, saying faintly things startling, +cruel or absurd, to which there is no possible reply. To her he had +nothing to say! She wrung her hands, glanced over the courtyard with +that eager and distracted look that sees nothing, then looked up at the +hopeless sky of livid grey and drifting black; at the unquiet mourning +of the hot and brilliant heaven that had seen the beginning of her love, +that had heard his entreaties and her answers, that had seen his desire +and her fear; that had seen her joy, her surrender--and his defeat. +Lingard moved a little, and this slight stir near her precipitated her +disordered and shapeless thoughts into hurried words. + +“Wait!” she exclaimed in a stifled voice, and went on disconnectedly and +rapidly--“Stay. I have heard. Men often spoke by the fires . . . men of +my people. And they said of you--the first on the sea--they said that to +men’s cries you were deaf in battle, but after . . . No! even while you +fought, your ears were open to the voice of children and women. They +said . . . that. Now I, a woman, I . . .” + +She broke off suddenly and stood before him with dropped eyelids and +parted lips, so still now that she seemed to have been changed into a +breathless, an unhearing, an unseeing figure, without knowledge of fear +or hope, of anger or despair. In the astounding repose that came on +her face, nothing moved but the delicate nostrils that expanded and +collapsed quickly, flutteringly, in interrupted beats, like the wings of +a snared bird. + +“I am white,” said Lingard, proudly, looking at her with a steady gaze +where simple curiosity was giving way to a pitying annoyance, “and men +you have heard, spoke only what is true over the evening fires. My ears +are open to your prayer. But listen to me before you speak. For yourself +you need not be afraid. You can come even now with me and you shall find +refuge in the household of Syed Abdulla--who is of your own faith. And +this also you must know: nothing that you may say will change my purpose +towards the man who is sleeping--or hiding--in that house.” + +Again she gave him the look that was like a stab, not of anger but of +desire; of the intense, over-powering desire to see in, to see through, +to understand everything: every thought, emotion, purpose; every +impulse, every hesitation inside that man; inside that white-clad +foreign being who looked at her, who spoke to her, who breathed +before her like any other man, but bigger, red-faced, white-haired and +mysterious. It was the future clothed in flesh; the to-morrow; the day +after; all the days, all the years of her life standing there before her +alive and secret, with all their good or evil shut up within the breast +of that man; of that man who could be persuaded, cajoled, entreated, +perhaps touched, worried; frightened--who knows?--if only first he could +be understood! She had seen a long time ago whither events were tending. +She had noted the contemptuous yet menacing coldness of Abdulla; she +had heard--alarmed yet unbelieving--Babalatchi’s gloomy hints, covert +allusions and veiled suggestions to abandon the useless white man whose +fate would be the price of the peace secured by the wise and good who +had no need of him any more. And he--himself! She clung to him. There +was nobody else. Nothing else. She would try to cling to him always--all +the life! And yet he was far from her. Further every day. Every day he +seemed more distant, and she followed him patiently, hopefully, blindly, +but steadily, through all the devious wanderings of his mind. She +followed as well as she could. Yet at times--very often lately--she had +felt lost like one strayed in the thickets of tangled undergrowth of a +great forest. To her the ex-clerk of old Hudig appeared as remote, as +brilliant, as terrible, as necessary, as the sun that gives life to +these lands: the sun of unclouded skies that dazzles and withers; the +sun beneficent and wicked--the giver of light, perfume, and pestilence. +She had watched him--watched him close; fascinated by love, fascinated +by danger. He was alone now--but for her; and she saw--she thought she +saw--that he was like a man afraid of something. Was it possible? He +afraid? Of what? Was it of that old white man who was coming--who had +come? Possibly. She had heard of that man ever since she could remember. +The bravest were afraid of him! And now what was in the mind of this +old, old man who looked so strong? What was he going to do with the +light of her life? Put it out? Take it away? Take it away for ever!--for +ever!--and leave her in darkness:--not in the stirring, whispering, +expectant night in which the hushed world awaits the return of sunshine; +but in the night without end, the night of the grave, where nothing +breathes, nothing moves, nothing thinks--the last darkness of cold and +silence without hope of another sunrise. + +She cried--“Your purpose! You know nothing. I must . . .” + +He interrupted--unreasonably excited, as if she had, by her look, +inoculated him with some of her own distress. + +“I know enough.” + +She approached, and stood facing him at arm’s length, with both her +hands on his shoulders; and he, surprised by that audacity, closed and +opened his eyes two or three times, aware of some emotion arising +within him, from her words, her tone, her contact; an emotion unknown, +singular, penetrating and sad--at the close sight of that strange +woman, of that being savage and tender, strong and delicate, fearful and +resolute, that had got entangled so fatally between their two lives--his +own and that other white man’s, the abominable scoundrel. + +“How can you know?” she went on, in a persuasive tone that seemed to +flow out of her very heart--“how can you know? I live with him all +the days. All the nights. I look at him; I see his every breath, every +glance of his eye, every movement of his lips. I see nothing else! +What else is there? And even I do not understand. I do not understand +him!--Him!--My life! Him who to me is so great that his presence hides +the earth and the water from my sight!” + +Lingard stood straight, with his hands deep in the pockets of his +jacket. His eyes winked quickly, because she spoke very close to his +face. She disturbed him and he had a sense of the efforts he was making +to get hold of her meaning, while all the time he could not help telling +himself that all this was of no use. + +She added after a pause--“There has been a time when I could understand +him. When I knew what was in his mind better than he knew it himself. +When I felt him. When I held him. . . . And now he has escaped.” + +“Escaped? What? Gone away!” shouted Lingard. + +“Escaped from me,” she said; “left me alone. Alone. And I am ever near +him. Yet alone.” + +Her hands slipped slowly off Lingard’s shoulders and her arms fell +by her side, listless, discouraged, as if to her--to her, the savage, +violent, and ignorant creature--had been revealed clearly in that moment +the tremendous fact of our isolation, of the loneliness impenetrable and +transparent, elusive and everlasting; of the indestructible loneliness +that surrounds, envelopes, clothes every human soul from the cradle to +the grave, and, perhaps, beyond. + +“Aye! Very well! I understand. His face is turned away from you,” said +Lingard. “Now, what do you want?” + +“I want . . . I have looked--for help . . . everywhere . . . against +men. . . . All men . . . I do not know. First they came, the invisible +whites, and dealt death from afar . . . then he came. He came to me who +was alone and sad. He came; angry with his brothers; great amongst his +own people; angry with those I have not seen: with the people where men +have no mercy and women have no shame. He was of them, and great amongst +them. For he was great?” + +Lingard shook his head slightly. She frowned at him, and went on in +disordered haste-- + +“Listen. I saw him. I have lived by the side of brave men . . . of +chiefs. When he came I was the daughter of a beggar--of a blind man +without strength and hope. He spoke to me as if I had been brighter than +the sunshine--more delightful than the cool water of the brook by which +we met--more . . .” Her anxious eyes saw some shade of expression pass +on her listener’s face that made her hold her breath for a second, and +then explode into pained fury so violent that it drove Lingard back +a pace, like an unexpected blast of wind. He lifted both his hands, +incongruously paternal in his venerable aspect, bewildered and soothing, +while she stretched her neck forward and shouted at him. + +“I tell you I was all that to him. I know it! I saw it! . . . There are +times when even you white men speak the truth. I saw his eyes. I +felt his eyes, I tell you! I saw him tremble when I came near--when I +spoke--when I touched him. Look at me! You have been young. Look at me. +Look, Rajah Laut!” + +She stared at Lingard with provoking fixity, then, turning her head +quickly, she sent over her shoulder a glance, full of humble fear, at +the house that stood high behind her back--dark, closed, rickety and +silent on its crooked posts. + +Lingard’s eyes followed her look, and remained gazing expectantly at the +house. After a minute or so he muttered, glancing at her suspiciously-- + +“If he has not heard your voice now, then he must be far away--or dead.” + +“He is there,” she whispered, a little calmed but still anxious--“he +is there. For three days he waited. Waited for you night and day. And +I waited with him. I waited, watching his face, his eyes, his lips; +listening to his words.--To the words I could not understand.--To the +words he spoke in daylight; to the words he spoke at night in his short +sleep. I listened. He spoke to himself walking up and down here--by the +river; by the bushes. And I followed. I wanted to know--and I could not! +He was tormented by things that made him speak in the words of his own +people. Speak to himself--not to me. Not to me! What was he saying? What +was he going to do? Was he afraid of you?--Of death? What was in +his heart? . . . Fear? . . . Or anger? . . . what desire? . . . what +sadness? He spoke; spoke; many words. All the time! And I could not +know! I wanted to speak to him. He was deaf to me. I followed him +everywhere, watching for some word I could understand; but his mind +was in the land of his people--away from me. When I touched him he was +angry--so!” + +She imitated the movement of some one shaking off roughly an importunate +hand, and looked at Lingard with tearful and unsteady eyes. + +After a short interval of laboured panting, as if she had been out of +breath with running or fighting, she looked down and went on-- + +“Day after day, night after night, I lived watching him--seeing nothing. +And my heart was heavy--heavy with the presence of death that dwelt +amongst us. I could not believe. I thought he was afraid. Afraid of you! +Then I, myself, knew fear. . . . Tell me, Rajah Laut, do you know the +fear without voice--the fear of silence--the fear that comes when there +is no one near--when there is no battle, no cries, no angry faces or +armed hands anywhere? . . . The fear from which there is no escape!” + +She paused, fastened her eyes again on the puzzled Lingard, and hurried +on in a tone of despair-- + +“And I knew then he would not fight you! Before--many days ago--I went +away twice to make him obey my desire; to make him strike at his own +people so that he could be mine--mine! O calamity! His hand was false as +your white hearts. It struck forward, pushed by my desire--by his +desire of me. . . . It struck that strong hand, and--O shame!--it killed +nobody! Its fierce and lying blow woke up hate without any fear. Round +me all was lies. His strength was a lie. My own people lied to me and to +him. And to meet you--you, the great!--he had no one but me? But me +with my rage, my pain, my weakness. Only me! And to me he would not even +speak. The fool!” + +She came up close to Lingard, with the wild and stealthy aspect of a +lunatic longing to whisper out an insane secret--one of those misshapen, +heart-rending, and ludicrous secrets; one of those thoughts that, like +monsters--cruel, fantastic, and mournful, wander about terrible and +unceasing in the night of madness. Lingard looked at her, astounded but +unflinching. She spoke in his face, very low. + +“He is all! Everything. He is my breath, my light, my heart. . . . Go +away. . . . Forget him. . . . He has no courage and no wisdom any more +. . . and I have lost my power. . . . Go away and forget. There are other +enemies. . . . Leave him to me. He had been a man once. . . . You are +too great. Nobody can withstand you. . . . I tried. . . . I know now +. . . . I cry for mercy. Leave him to me and go away.” + +The fragments of her supplicating sentences were as if tossed on the +crest of her sobs. Lingard, outwardly impassive, with his eyes fixed +on the house, experienced that feeling of condemnation, deep-seated, +persuasive, and masterful; that illogical impulse of disapproval which +is half disgust, half vague fear, and that wakes up in our hearts in the +presence of anything new or unusual, of anything that is not run +into the mould of our own conscience; the accursed feeling made up of +disdain, of anger, and of the sense of superior virtue that leaves us +deaf, blind, contemptuous and stupid before anything which is not like +ourselves. + +He answered, not looking at her at first, but speaking towards the house +that fascinated him-- + +“_I_ go away! He wanted me to come--he himself did! . . . _You_ must go +away. You do not know what you are asking for. Listen. Go to your own +people. Leave him. He is . . .” + +He paused, looked down at her with his steady eyes; hesitated, as if +seeking an adequate expression; then snapped his fingers, and said-- + +“Finish.” + +She stepped back, her eyes on the ground, and pressed her temples +with both her hands, which she raised to her head in a slow and ample +movement full of unconscious tragedy. The tone of her words was gentle +and vibrating, like a loud meditation. She said-- + +“Tell the brook not to run to the river; tell the river not to run to +the sea. Speak loud. Speak angrily. Maybe they will obey you. But it is +in my mind that the brook will not care. The brook that springs out of +the hillside and runs to the great river. He would not care for your +words: he that cares not for the very mountain that gave him life; he +that tears the earth from which he springs. Tears it, eats it, destroys +it--to hurry faster to the river--to the river in which he is lost for +ever. . . . O Rajah Laut! I do not care.” + +She drew close again to Lingard, approaching slowly, reluctantly, as if +pushed by an invisible hand, and added in words that seemed to be torn +out of her-- + +“I cared not for my own father. For him that died. I would have rather +. . . You do not know what I have done . . . I . . .” + +“You shall have his life,” said Lingard, hastily. + +They stood together, crossing their glances; she suddenly appeased, and +Lingard thoughtful and uneasy under a vague sense of defeat. And yet +there was no defeat. He never intended to kill the fellow--not after the +first moment of anger, a long time ago. The days of bitter wonder had +killed anger; had left only a bitter indignation and a bitter wish for +complete justice. He felt discontented and surprised. Unexpectedly he +had come upon a human being--a woman at that--who had made him disclose +his will before its time. She should have his life. But she must be +told, she must know, that for such men as Willems there was no favour +and no grace. + +“Understand,” he said slowly, “that I leave him his life not in mercy +but in punishment.” + +She started, watched every word on his lips, and after he finished +speaking she remained still and mute in astonished immobility. A +single big drop of rain, a drop enormous, pellucid and heavy--like a +super-human tear coming straight and rapid from above, tearing its way +through the sombre sky--struck loudly the dry ground between them in a +starred splash. She wrung her hands in the bewilderment of the new and +incomprehensible fear. The anguish of her whisper was more piercing than +the shrillest cry. + +“What punishment! Will you take him away then? Away from me? Listen to +what I have done. . . . It is I who . . .” + +“Ah!” exclaimed Lingard, who had been looking at the house. + +“Don’t you believe her, Captain Lingard,” shouted Willems from the +doorway, where he appeared with swollen eyelids and bared breast. He +stood for a while, his hands grasping the lintels on each side of the +door, and writhed about, glaring wildly, as if he had been crucified +there. Then he made a sudden rush head foremost down the plankway that +responded with hollow, short noises to every footstep. + +She heard him. A slight thrill passed on her face and the words that +were on her lips fell back unspoken into her benighted heart; fell back +amongst the mud, the stones--and the flowers, that are at the bottom of +every heart. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +When he felt the solid ground of the courtyard under his feet, Willems +pulled himself up in his headlong rush and moved forward with a moderate +gait. He paced stiffly, looking with extreme exactitude at Lingard’s +face; looking neither to the right nor to the left but at the face only, +as if there was nothing in the world but those features familiar and +dreaded; that white-haired, rough and severe head upon which he gazed in +a fixed effort of his eyes, like a man trying to read small print at +the full range of human vision. As soon as Willems’ feet had left the +planks, the silence which had been lifted up by the jerky rattle of his +footsteps fell down again upon the courtyard; the silence of the cloudy +sky and of the windless air, the sullen silence of the earth oppressed +by the aspect of coming turmoil, the silence of the world collecting its +faculties to withstand the storm. Through this silence Willems pushed +his way, and stopped about six feet from Lingard. He stopped simply +because he could go no further. He had started from the door with the +reckless purpose of clapping the old fellow on the shoulder. He had +no idea that the man would turn out to be so tall, so big and so +unapproachable. It seemed to him that he had never, never in his life, +seen Lingard. + +He tried to say-- + +“Do not believe . . .” + +A fit of coughing checked his sentence in a faint splutter. Directly +afterwards he swallowed--as it were--a couple of pebbles, throwing his +chin up in the act; and Lingard, who looked at him narrowly, saw a bone, +sharp and triangular like the head of a snake, dart up and down twice +under the skin of his throat. Then that, too, did not move. Nothing +moved. + +“Well,” said Lingard, and with that word he came unexpectedly to the end +of his speech. His hand in his pocket closed firmly round the butt of +his revolver bulging his jacket on the hip, and he thought how soon and +how quickly he could terminate his quarrel with that man who had been so +anxious to deliver himself into his hands--and how inadequate would be +that ending! He could not bear the idea of that man escaping from him by +going out of life; escaping from fear, from doubt, from remorse into the +peaceful certitude of death. He held him now. And he was not going to +let him go--to let him disappear for ever in the faint blue smoke of a +pistol shot. His anger grew within him. He felt a touch as of a burning +hand on his heart. Not on the flesh of his breast, but a touch on his +heart itself, on the palpitating and untiring particle of matter that +responds to every emotion of the soul; that leaps with joy, with terror, +or with anger. + +He drew a long breath. He could see before him the bare chest of the man +expanding and collapsing under the wide-open jacket. He glanced +aside, and saw the bosom of the woman near him rise and fall in quick +respirations that moved slightly up and down her hand, which was pressed +to her breast with all the fingers spread out and a little curved, as if +grasping something too big for its span. And nearly a minute passed. One +of those minutes when the voice is silenced, while the thoughts flutter +in the head, like captive birds inside a cage, in rushes desperate, +exhausting and vain. + +During that minute of silence Lingard’s anger kept rising, immense and +towering, such as a crested wave running over the troubled shallows of +the sands. Its roar filled his cars; a roar so powerful and distracting +that, it seemed to him, his head must burst directly with the expanding +volume of that sound. He looked at that man. That infamous figure +upright on its feet, still, rigid, with stony eyes, as if its rotten +soul had departed that moment and the carcass hadn’t had the time yet +to topple over. For the fraction of a second he had the illusion and the +fear of the scoundrel having died there before the enraged glance of his +eyes. Willems’ eyelids fluttered, and the unconscious and passing tremor +in that stiffly erect body exasperated Lingard like a fresh outrage. The +fellow dared to stir! Dared to wink, to breathe, to exist; here, right +before his eyes! His grip on the revolver relaxed gradually. As +the transport of his rage increased, so also his contempt for the +instruments that pierce or stab, that interpose themselves between the +hand and the object of hate. He wanted another kind of satisfaction. +Naked hands, by heaven! No firearms. Hands that could take him by the +throat, beat down his defence, batter his face into shapeless flesh; +hands that could feel all the desperation of his resistance and +overpower it in the violent delight of a contact lingering and furious, +intimate and brutal. + +He let go the revolver altogether, stood hesitating, then throwing his +hands out, strode forward--and everything passed from his sight. He +could not see the man, the woman, the earth, the sky--saw nothing, as if +in that one stride he had left the visible world behind to step into a +black and deserted space. He heard screams round him in that obscurity, +screams like the melancholy and pitiful cries of sea-birds that dwell on +the lonely reefs of great oceans. Then suddenly a face appeared within a +few inches of his own. His face. He felt something in his left hand. His +throat . . . Ah! the thing like a snake’s head that darts up and down +. . . He squeezed hard. He was back in the world. He could see the quick +beating of eyelids over a pair of eyes that were all whites, the grin of +a drawn-up lip, a row of teeth gleaming through the drooping hair of a +moustache . . . Strong white teeth. Knock them down his lying throat +. . . He drew back his right hand, the fist up to the shoulder, knuckles +out. From under his feet rose the screams of sea-birds. Thousands of +them. Something held his legs . . . What the devil . . . He delivered +his blow straight from the shoulder, felt the jar right up his arm, +and realized suddenly that he was striking something passive and +unresisting. His heart sank within him with disappointment, with rage, +with mortification. He pushed with his left arm, opening the hand with +haste, as if he had just perceived that he got hold by accident +of something repulsive--and he watched with stupefied eyes Willems +tottering backwards in groping strides, the white sleeve of his jacket +across his face. He watched his distance from that man increase, while +he remained motionless, without being able to account to himself for the +fact that so much empty space had come in between them. It should have +been the other way. They ought to have been very close, and . . . Ah! He +wouldn’t fight, he wouldn’t resist, he wouldn’t defend himself! A +cur! Evidently a cur! . . . He was amazed and aggrieved--profoundly, +bitterly--with the immense and blank desolation of a small child robbed +of a toy. He shouted--unbelieving: + +“Will you be a cheat to the end?” + +He waited for some answer. He waited anxiously with an impatience that +seemed to lift him off his feet. He waited for some word, some sign; +for some threatening stir. Nothing! Only two unwinking eyes glittered +intently at him above the white sleeve. He saw the raised arm detach +itself from the face and sink along the body. A white clad arm, with +a big stain on the white sleeve. A red stain. There was a cut on +the cheek. It bled. The nose bled too. The blood ran down, made one +moustache look like a dark rag stuck over the lip, and went on in a wet +streak down the clipped beard on one side of the chin. A drop of blood +hung on the end of some hairs that were glued together; it hung for a +while and took a leap down on the ground. Many more followed, leaping +one after another in close file. One alighted on the breast and glided +down instantly with devious vivacity, like a small insect running away; +it left a narrow dark track on the white skin. He looked at it, looked +at the tiny and active drops, looked at what he had done, with obscure +satisfaction, with anger, with regret. This wasn’t much like an act of +justice. He had a desire to go up nearer to the man, to hear him speak, +to hear him say something atrocious and wicked that would justify the +violence of the blow. He made an attempt to move, and became aware of a +close embrace round both his legs, just above the ankles. Instinctively, +he kicked out with his foot, broke through the close bond and felt at +once the clasp transferred to his other leg; the clasp warm, desperate +and soft, of human arms. He looked down bewildered. He saw the body of +the woman stretched at length, flattened on the ground like a dark blue +rag. She trailed face downwards, clinging to his leg with both arms in a +tenacious hug. He saw the top of her head, the long black hair streaming +over his foot, all over the beaten earth, around his boot. He couldn’t +see his foot for it. He heard the short and repeated moaning of her +breath. He imagined the invisible face close to his heel. With one kick +into that face he could free himself. He dared not stir, and shouted +down-- + +“Let go! Let go! Let go!” + +The only result of his shouting was a tightening of the pressure of her +arms. With a tremendous effort he tried to bring his right foot up to +his left, and succeeded partly. He heard distinctly the rub of her body +on the ground as he jerked her along. He tried to disengage himself by +drawing up his foot. He stamped. He heard a voice saying sharply-- + +“Steady, Captain Lingard, steady!” + +His eyes flew back to Willems at the sound of that voice, and, in the +quick awakening of sleeping memories, Lingard stood suddenly still, +appeased by the clear ring of familiar words. Appeased as in days of +old, when they were trading together, when Willems was his trusted and +helpful companion in out-of-the-way and dangerous places; when that +fellow, who could keep his temper so much better than he could himself, +had spared him many a difficulty, had saved him from many an act of +hasty violence by the timely and good-humoured warning, whispered or +shouted, “Steady, Captain Lingard, steady.” A smart fellow. He had +brought him up. The smartest fellow in the islands. If he had only +stayed with him, then all this . . . He called out to Willems-- + +“Tell her to let me go or . . .” + +He heard Willems shouting something, waited for awhile, then glanced +vaguely down and saw the woman still stretched out perfectly mute and +unstirring, with her head at his feet. He felt a nervous impatience +that, somehow, resembled fear. + +“Tell her to let go, to go away, Willems, I tell you. I’ve had enough of +this,” he cried. + +“All right, Captain Lingard,” answered the calm voice of Willems, “she +has let go. Take your foot off her hair; she can’t get up.” + +Lingard leaped aside, clean away, and spun round quickly. He saw her sit +up and cover her face with both hands, then he turned slowly on his +heel and looked at the man. Willems held himself very straight, but was +unsteady on his feet, and moved about nearly on the same spot, like a +tipsy man attempting to preserve his balance. After gazing at him for a +while, Lingard called, rancorous and irritable-- + +“What have you got to say for yourself?” + +Willems began to walk towards him. He walked slowly, reeling a little +before he took each step, and Lingard saw him put his hand to his face, +then look at it holding it up to his eyes, as if he had there, concealed +in the hollow of the palm, some small object which he wanted to examine +secretly. Suddenly he drew it, with a brusque movement, down the front +of his jacket and left a long smudge. + +“That’s a fine thing to do,” said Willems. + +He stood in front of Lingard, one of his eyes sunk deep in the +increasing swelling of his cheek, still repeating mechanically the +movement of feeling his damaged face; and every time he did this he +pressed the palm to some clean spot on his jacket, covering the white +cotton with bloody imprints as of some deformed and monstrous hand. +Lingard said nothing, looking on. At last Willems left off staunching +the blood and stood, his arms hanging by his side, with his face stiff +and distorted under the patches of coagulated blood; and he seemed +as though he had been set up there for a warning: an incomprehensible +figure marked all over with some awful and symbolic signs of deadly +import. Speaking with difficulty, he repeated in a reproachful tone-- + +“That was a fine thing to do.” + +“After all,” answered Lingard, bitterly, “I had too good an opinion of +you.” + +“And I of you. Don’t you see that I could have had that fool over there +killed and the whole thing burnt to the ground, swept off the face of +the earth. You wouldn’t have found as much as a heap of ashes had I +liked. I could have done all that. And I wouldn’t.” + +“You--could--not. You dared not. You scoundrel!” cried Lingard. + +“What’s the use of calling me names?” + +“True,” retorted Lingard--“there’s no name bad enough for you.” + +There was a short interval of silence. At the sound of their rapidly +exchanged words, Aissa had got up from the ground where she had been +sitting, in a sorrowful and dejected pose, and approached the two men. +She stood on one side and looked on eagerly, in a desperate effort of +her brain, with the quick and distracted eyes of a person trying for her +life to penetrate the meaning of sentences uttered in a foreign +tongue: the meaning portentous and fateful that lurks in the sounds of +mysterious words; in the sounds surprising, unknown and strange. + +Willems let the last speech of Lingard pass by; seemed by a slight +movement of his hand to help it on its way to join the other shadows of +the past. Then he said-- + +“You have struck me; you have insulted me . . .” + +“Insulted you!” interrupted Lingard, passionately. “Who--what can insult +you . . . you . . .” + +He choked, advanced a step. + +“Steady! steady!” said Willems calmly. “I tell you I sha’n’t fight. Is +it clear enough to you that I sha’n’t? I--shall--not--lift--a--finger.” + +As he spoke, slowly punctuating each word with a slight jerk of his +head, he stared at Lingard, his right eye open and big, the left small +and nearly closed by the swelling of one half of his face, that appeared +all drawn out on one side like faces seen in a concave glass. And they +stood exactly opposite each other: one tall, slight and disfigured; the +other tall, heavy and severe. + +Willems went on-- + +“If I had wanted to hurt you--if I had wanted to destroy you, it was +easy. I stood in the doorway long enough to pull a trigger--and you know +I shoot straight.” + +“You would have missed,” said Lingard, with assurance. “There is, under +heaven, such a thing as justice.” + +The sound of that word on his own lips made him pause, confused, like an +unexpected and unanswerable rebuke. The anger of his outraged pride, +the anger of his outraged heart, had gone out in the blow; and there +remained nothing but the sense of some immense infamy--of something +vague, disgusting and terrible, which seemed to surround him on all +sides, hover about him with shadowy and stealthy movements, like a band +of assassins in the darkness of vast and unsafe places. Was there, under +heaven, such a thing as justice? He looked at the man before him with +such an intensity of prolonged glance that he seemed to see right +through him, that at last he saw but a floating and unsteady mist in +human shape. Would it blow away before the first breath of the breeze +and leave nothing behind? + +The sound of Willems’ voice made him start violently. Willems was +saying-- + +“I have always led a virtuous life; you know I have. You always praised +me for my steadiness; you know you have. You know also I never stole--if +that’s what you’re thinking of. I borrowed. You know how much I repaid. +It was an error of judgment. But then consider my position there. I had +been a little unlucky in my private affairs, and had debts. Could I +let myself go under before the eyes of all those men who envied me? But +that’s all over. It was an error of judgment. I’ve paid for it. An error +of judgment.” + +Lingard, astounded into perfect stillness, looked down. He looked down +at Willems’ bare feet. Then, as the other had paused, he repeated in a +blank tone-- + +“An error of judgment . . .” + +“Yes,” drawled out Willems, thoughtfully, and went on with increasing +animation: “As I said, I have always led a virtuous life. More so than +Hudig--than you. Yes, than you. I drank a little, I played cards a +little. Who doesn’t? But I had principles from a boy. Yes, principles. +Business is business, and I never was an ass. I never respected fools. +They had to suffer for their folly when they dealt with me. The evil was +in them, not in me. But as to principles, it’s another matter. I kept +clear of women. It’s forbidden--I had no time--and I despised them. Now +I hate them!” + +He put his tongue out a little; a tongue whose pink and moist end ran +here and there, like something independently alive, under his swollen +and blackened lip; he touched with the tips of his fingers the cut on +his cheek, felt all round it with precaution: and the unharmed side of +his face appeared for a moment to be preoccupied and uneasy about the +state of that other side which was so very sore and stiff. + +He recommenced speaking, and his voice vibrated as though with repressed +emotion of some kind. + +“You ask my wife, when you see her in Macassar, whether I have no reason +to hate her. She was nobody, and I made her Mrs. Willems. A half-caste +girl! You ask her how she showed her gratitude to me. You ask . . . +Never mind that. Well, you came and dumped me here like a load of +rubbish; dumped me here and left me with nothing to do--nothing good to +remember--and damn little to hope for. You left me here at the mercy of +that fool, Almayer, who suspected me of something. Of what? Devil only +knows. But he suspected and hated me from the first; I suppose because +you befriended me. Oh! I could read him like a book. He isn’t very +deep, your Sambir partner, Captain Lingard, but he knows how to be +disagreeable. Months passed. I thought I would die of sheer weariness, +of my thoughts, of my regrets And then . . .” + +He made a quick step nearer to Lingard, and as if moved by the same +thought, by the same instinct, by the impulse of his will, Aissa also +stepped nearer to them. They stood in a close group, and the two men +could feel the calm air between their faces stirred by the light breath +of the anxious woman who enveloped them both in the uncomprehending, in +the despairing and wondering glances of her wild and mournful eyes. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +Willems turned a little from her and spoke lower. + +“Look at that,” he said, with an almost imperceptible movement of his +head towards the woman to whom he was presenting his shoulder. “Look at +that! Don’t believe her! What has she been saying to you? What? I have +been asleep. Had to sleep at last. I’ve been waiting for you three days +and nights. I had to sleep some time. Hadn’t I? I told her to remain +awake and watch for you, and call me at once. She did watch. You can’t +believe her. You can’t believe any woman. Who can tell what’s inside +their heads? No one. You can know nothing. The only thing you can know +is that it isn’t anything like what comes through their lips. They live +by the side of you. They seem to hate you, or they seem to love you; +they caress or torment you; they throw you over or stick to you closer +than your skin for some inscrutable and awful reason of their own--which +you can never know! Look at her--and look at me. At me!--her infernal +work. What has she been saying?” + +His voice had sunk to a whisper. Lingard listened with great attention, +holding his chin in his hand, which grasped a great handful of his white +beard. His elbow was in the palm of his other hand, and his eyes were +still fixed on the ground. He murmured, without looking up-- + +“She begged me for your life--if you want to know--as if the thing were +worth giving or taking!” + +“And for three days she begged me to take yours,” said Willems quickly. +“For three days she wouldn’t give me any peace. She was never still. She +planned ambushes. She has been looking for places all over here where I +could hide and drop you with a safe shot as you walked up. It’s true. I +give you my word.” + +“Your word,” muttered Lingard, contemptuously. + +Willems took no notice. + +“Ah! She is a ferocious creature,” he went on. “You don’t know . . . +I wanted to pass the time--to do something--to have something to think +about--to forget my troubles till you came back. And . . . look at her +. . . she took me as if I did not belong to myself. She did. I did not +know there was something in me she could get hold of. She, a savage. +I, a civilized European, and clever! She that knew no more than a wild +animal! Well, she found out something in me. She found it out, and I +was lost. I knew it. She tormented me. I was ready to do anything. I +resisted--but I was ready. I knew that too. That frightened me more than +anything; more than my own sufferings; and that was frightful enough, I +assure you.” + +Lingard listened, fascinated and amazed like a child listening to a +fairy tale, and, when Willems stopped for breath, he shuffled his feet a +little. + +“What does he say?” cried out Aissa, suddenly. + +The two men looked at her quickly, and then looked at one another. + +Willems began again, speaking hurriedly-- + +“I tried to do something. Take her away from those people. I went +to Almayer; the biggest blind fool that you ever . . . Then Abdulla +came--and she went away. She took away with her something of me which I +had to get back. I had to do it. As far as you are concerned, the change +here had to happen sooner or later; you couldn’t be master here for +ever. It isn’t what I have done that torments me. It is the why. It’s +the madness that drove me to it. It’s that thing that came over me. That +may come again, some day.” + +“It will do no harm to anybody then, I promise you,” said Lingard, +significantly. + +Willems looked at him for a second with a blank stare, then went on-- + +“I fought against her. She goaded me to violence and to murder. Nobody +knows why. She pushed me to it persistently, desperately, all the time. +Fortunately Abdulla had sense. I don’t know what I wouldn’t have done. +She held me then. Held me like a nightmare that is terrible and sweet. +By and by it was another life. I woke up. I found myself beside an +animal as full of harm as a wild cat. You don’t know through what I have +passed. Her father tried to kill me--and she very nearly killed him. +I believe she would have stuck at nothing. I don’t know which was more +terrible! She would have stuck at nothing to defend her own. And when +I think that it was me--me--Willems . . . I hate her. To-morrow she +may want my life. How can I know what’s in her? She may want to kill me +next!” + +He paused in great trepidation, then added in a scared tone-- + +“I don’t want to die here.” + +“Don’t you?” said Lingard, thoughtfully. + +Willems turned towards Aissa and pointed at her with a bony forefinger. + +“Look at her! Always there. Always near. Always watching, watching . . . +for something. Look at her eyes. Ain’t they big? Don’t they stare? You +wouldn’t think she can shut them like human beings do. I don’t believe +she ever does. I go to sleep, if I can, under their stare, and when I +wake up I see them fixed on me and moving no more than the eyes of a +corpse. While I am still they are still. By God--she can’t move them +till I stir, and then they follow me like a pair of jailers. They watch +me; when I stop they seem to wait patient and glistening till I am off +my guard--for to do something. To do something horrible. Look at them! +You can see nothing in them. They are big, menacing--and empty. The eyes +of a savage; of a damned mongrel, half-Arab, half-Malay. They hurt me! +I am white! I swear to you I can’t stand this! Take me away. I am white! +All white!” + +He shouted towards the sombre heaven, proclaiming desperately under the +frown of thickening clouds the fact of his pure and superior descent. +He shouted, his head thrown up, his arms swinging about wildly; lean, +ragged, disfigured; a tall madman making a great disturbance about +something invisible; a being absurd, repulsive, pathetic, and droll. +Lingard, who was looking down as if absorbed in deep thought, gave him a +quick glance from under his eyebrows: Aissa stood with clasped hands. At +the other end of the courtyard the old woman, like a vague and decrepit +apparition, rose noiselessly to look, then sank down again with a +stealthy movement and crouched low over the small glow of the fire. +Willems’ voice filled the enclosure, rising louder with every word, and +then, suddenly, at its very loudest, stopped short--like water stops +running from an over-turned vessel. As soon as it had ceased the thunder +seemed to take up the burden in a low growl coming from the inland +hills. The noise approached in confused mutterings which kept on +increasing, swelling into a roar that came nearer, rushed down the +river, passed close in a tearing crash--and instantly sounded faint, +dying away in monotonous and dull repetitions amongst the endless +sinuosities of the lower reaches. Over the great forests, over all the +innumerable people of unstirring trees--over all that living people +immense, motionless, and mute--the silence, that had rushed in on the +track of the passing tumult, remained suspended as deep and complete as +if it had never been disturbed from the beginning of remote ages. +Then, through it, after a time, came to Lingard’s ears the voice of the +running river: a voice low, discreet, and sad, like the persistent and +gentle voices that speak of the past in the silence of dreams. + +He felt a great emptiness in his heart. It seemed to him that there was +within his breast a great space without any light, where his thoughts +wandered forlornly, unable to escape, unable to rest, unable to die, +to vanish--and to relieve him from the fearful oppression of their +existence. Speech, action, anger, forgiveness, all appeared to him alike +useless and vain, appeared to him unsatisfactory, not worth the effort +of hand or brain that was needed to give them effect. He could not see +why he should not remain standing there, without ever doing anything, to +the end of time. He felt something, something like a heavy chain, that +held him there. This wouldn’t do. He backed away a little from Willems +and Aissa, leaving them close together, then stopped and looked at both. +The man and the woman appeared to him much further than they really +were. He had made only about three steps backward, but he believed for +a moment that another step would take him out of earshot for ever. They +appeared to him slightly under life size, and with a great cleanness of +outlines, like figures carved with great precision of detail and highly +finished by a skilful hand. He pulled himself together. The strong +consciousness of his own personality came back to him. He had a notion +of surveying them from a great and inaccessible height. + +He said slowly: “You have been possessed of a devil.” + +“Yes,” answered Willems gloomily, and looking at Aissa. “Isn’t it +pretty?” + +“I’ve heard this kind of talk before,” said Lingard, in a scornful tone; +then paused, and went on steadily after a while: “I regret nothing. I +picked you up by the waterside, like a starving cat--by God. I regret +nothing; nothing that I have done. Abdulla--twenty others--no doubt +Hudig himself, were after me. That’s business--for them. But that you +should . . . Money belongs to him who picks it up and is strong enough +to keep it--but this thing was different. It was part of my life. . . . +I am an old fool.” + +He was. The breath of his words, of the very words he spoke, fanned +the spark of divine folly in his breast, the spark that made him--the +hard-headed, heavy-handed adventurer--stand out from the crowd, from the +sordid, from the joyous, unscrupulous, and noisy crowd of men that were +so much like himself. + +Willems said hurriedly: “It wasn’t me. The evil was not in me, Captain +Lingard.” + +“And where else confound you! Where else?” interrupted Lingard, raising +his voice. “Did you ever see me cheat and lie and steal? Tell me that. +Did you? Hey? I wonder where in perdition you came from when I found you +under my feet. . . . No matter. You will do no more harm.” + +Willems moved nearer, gazing upon him anxiously. Lingard went on with +distinct deliberation-- + +“What did you expect when you asked me to see you? What? You know me. I +am Lingard. You lived with me. You’ve heard men speak. You knew what you +had done. Well! What did you expect?” + +“How can I know?” groaned Willems, wringing his hands; “I was alone in +that infernal savage crowd. I was delivered into their hands. After the +thing was done, I felt so lost and weak that I would have called the +devil himself to my aid if it had been any good--if he hadn’t put in +all his work already. In the whole world there was only one man that had +ever cared for me. Only one white man. You! Hate is better than being +alone! Death is better! I expected . . . anything. Something to expect. +Something to take me out of this. Out of her sight!” + +He laughed. His laugh seemed to be torn out from him against his will, +seemed to be brought violently on the surface from under his bitterness, +his self-contempt, from under his despairing wonder at his own nature. + +“When I think that when I first knew her it seemed to me that my whole +life wouldn’t be enough to . . . And now when I look at her! She did +it all. I must have been mad. I was mad. Every time I look at her I +remember my madness. It frightens me. . . . And when I think that of +all my life, of all my past, of all my future, of my intelligence, of my +work, there is nothing left but she, the cause of my ruin, and you whom +I have mortally offended . . .” + +He hid his face for a moment in his hands, and when he took them away +he had lost the appearance of comparative calm and gave way to a wild +distress. + +“Captain Lingard . . . anything . . . a deserted island . . . anywhere +. . . I promise . . .” + +“Shut up!” shouted Lingard, roughly. + +He became dumb, suddenly, completely. + +The wan light of the clouded morning retired slowly from the courtyard, +from the clearings, from the river, as if it had gone unwillingly to +hide in the enigmatical solitudes of the gloomy and silent forests. The +clouds over their heads thickened into a low vault of uniform blackness. +The air was still and inexpressibly oppressive. Lingard unbuttoned his +jacket, flung it wide open and, inclining his body sideways a little, +wiped his forehead with his hand, which he jerked sharply afterwards. +Then he looked at Willems and said-- + +“No promise of yours is any good to me. I am going to take your conduct +into my own hands. Pay attention to what I am going to say. You are my +prisoner.” + +Willems’ head moved imperceptibly; then he became rigid and still. He +seemed not to breathe. + +“You shall stay here,” continued Lingard, with sombre deliberation. “You +are not fit to go amongst people. Who could suspect, who could guess, +who could imagine what’s in you? I couldn’t! You are my mistake. I shall +hide you here. If I let you out you would go amongst unsuspecting men, +and lie, and steal, and cheat for a little money or for some woman. I +don’t care about shooting you. It would be the safest way though. But +I won’t. Do not expect me to forgive you. To forgive one must have been +angry and become contemptuous, and there is nothing in me now--no anger, +no contempt, no disappointment. To me you are not Willems, the man I +befriended and helped through thick and thin, and thought much of . . . +You are not a human being that may be destroyed or forgiven. You are a +bitter thought, a something without a body and that must be hidden . . . +You are my shame.” + +He ceased and looked slowly round. How dark it was! It seemed to him +that the light was dying prematurely out of the world and that the air +was already dead. + +“Of course,” he went on, “I shall see to it that you don’t starve.” + +“You don’t mean to say that I must live here, Captain Lingard?” said +Willems, in a kind of mechanical voice without any inflections. + +“Did you ever hear me say something I did not mean?” asked Lingard. “You +said you didn’t want to die here--well, you must live . . . Unless you +change your mind,” he added, as if in involuntary afterthought. + +He looked at Willems narrowly, then shook his head. + +“You are alone,” he went on. “Nothing can help you. Nobody will. You are +neither white nor brown. You have no colour as you have no heart. Your +accomplices have abandoned you to me because I am still somebody to be +reckoned with. You are alone but for that woman there. You say you did +this for her. Well, you have her.” + +Willems mumbled something, and then suddenly caught his hair with both +his hands and remained standing so. Aissa, who had been looking at him, +turned to Lingard. + +“What did you say, Rajah Laut?” she cried. + +There was a slight stir amongst the filmy threads of her disordered +hair, the bushes by the river sides trembled, the big tree nodded +precipitately over them with an abrupt rustle, as if waking with a +start from a troubled sleep--and the breath of hot breeze passed, light, +rapid, and scorching, under the clouds that whirled round, unbroken but +undulating, like a restless phantom of a sombre sea. + +Lingard looked at her pityingly before he said-- + +“I have told him that he must live here all his life . . . and with +you.” + +The sun seemed to have gone out at last like a flickering light away up +beyond the clouds, and in the stifling gloom of the courtyard the three +figures stood colourless and shadowy, as if surrounded by a black and +superheated mist. Aissa looked at Willems, who remained still, as though +he had been changed into stone in the very act of tearing his hair. Then +she turned her head towards Lingard and shouted-- + +“You lie! You lie! . . . White man. Like you all do. You . . . whom +Abdulla made small. You lie!” + +Her words rang out shrill and venomous with her secret scorn, with her +overpowering desire to wound regardless of consequences; in her woman’s +reckless desire to cause suffering at any cost, to cause it by the sound +of her own voice--by her own voice, that would carry the poison of her +thought into the hated heart. + +Willems let his hands fall, and began to mumble again. Lingard turned +his ear towards him instinctively, caught something that sounded like +“Very well”--then some more mumbling--then a sigh. + +“As far as the rest of the world is concerned,” said Lingard, after +waiting for awhile in an attentive attitude, “your life is finished. +Nobody will be able to throw any of your villainies in my teeth; +nobody will be able to point at you and say, ‘Here goes a scoundrel of +Lingard’s up-bringing.’ You are buried here.” + +“And you think that I will stay . . . that I will submit?” exclaimed +Willems, as if he had suddenly recovered the power of speech. + +“You needn’t stay here--on this spot,” said Lingard, drily. “There are +the forests--and here is the river. You may swim. Fifteen miles up, or +forty down. At one end you will meet Almayer, at the other the sea. Take +your choice.” + +He burst into a short, joyless laugh, then added with severe gravity-- + +“There is also another way.” + +“If you want to drive my soul into damnation by trying to drive me to +suicide you will not succeed,” said Willems in wild excitement. “I will +live. I shall repent. I may escape. . . . Take that woman away--she is +sin.” + +A hooked dart of fire tore in two the darkness of the distant horizon +and lit up the gloom of the earth with a dazzling and ghastly flame. +Then the thunder was heard far away, like an incredibly enormous voice +muttering menaces. + +Lingard said-- + +“I don’t care what happens, but I may tell you that without that woman +your life is not worth much--not twopence. There is a fellow here who +. . . and Abdulla himself wouldn’t stand on any ceremony. Think of that! +And then she won’t go.” + +He began, even while he spoke, to walk slowly down towards the little +gate. He didn’t look, but he felt as sure that Willems was following +him as if he had been leading him by a string. Directly he had passed +through the wicket-gate into the big courtyard he heard a voice, behind +his back, saying-- + +“I think she was right. I ought to have shot you. I couldn’t have been +worse off.” + +“Time yet,” answered Lingard, without stopping or looking back. “But, +you see, you can’t. There is not even that in you.” + +“Don’t provoke me, Captain Lingard,” cried Willems. + +Lingard turned round sharply. Willems and Aissa stopped. Another forked +flash of lightning split up the clouds overhead, and threw upon their +faces a sudden burst of light--a blaze violent, sinister and fleeting; +and in the same instant they were deafened by a near, single crash of +thunder, which was followed by a rushing noise, like a frightened sigh +of the startled earth. + +“Provoke you!” said the old adventurer, as soon as he could make himself +heard. “Provoke you! Hey! What’s there in you to provoke? What do I +care?” + +“It is easy to speak like that when you know that in the whole world--in +the whole world--I have no friend,” said Willems. + +“Whose fault?” said Lingard, sharply. + +Their voices, after the deep and tremendous noise, sounded to them very +unsatisfactory--thin and frail, like the voices of pigmies--and they +became suddenly silent, as if on that account. From up the courtyard +Lingard’s boatmen came down and passed them, keeping step in a single +file, their paddles on shoulder, and holding their heads straight with +their eyes fixed on the river. Ali, who was walking last, stopped before +Lingard, very stiff and upright. He said-- + +“That one-eyed Babalatchi is gone, with all his women. He took +everything. All the pots and boxes. Big. Heavy. Three boxes.” + +He grinned as if the thing had been amusing, then added with an +appearance of anxious concern, “Rain coming.” + +“We return,” said Lingard. “Make ready.” + +“Aye, aye, sir!” ejaculated Ali with precision, and moved on. He had +been quartermaster with Lingard before making up his mind to stay in +Sambir as Almayer’s head man. He strutted towards the landing-place +thinking proudly that he was not like those other ignorant boatmen, and +knew how to answer properly the very greatest of white captains. + +“You have misunderstood me from the first, Captain Lingard,” said +Willems. + +“Have I? It’s all right, as long as there is no mistake about my +meaning,” answered Lingard, strolling slowly to the landing-place. +Willems followed him, and Aissa followed Willems. + +Two hands were extended to help Lingard in embarking. He stepped +cautiously and heavily into the long and narrow canoe, and sat in the +canvas folding-chair that had been placed in the middle. He leaned back +and turned his head to the two figures that stood on the bank a +little above him. Aissa’s eyes were fastened on his face in a visible +impatience to see him gone. Willems’ look went straight above the canoe, +straight at the forest on the other side of the river. + +“All right, Ali,” said Lingard, in a low voice. + +A slight stir animated the faces, and a faint murmur ran along the +line of paddlers. The foremost man pushed with the point of his paddle, +canted the fore end out of the dead water into the current; and the +canoe fell rapidly off before the rush of brown water, the stern rubbing +gently against the low bank. + +“We shall meet again, Captain Lingard!” cried Willems, in an unsteady +voice. + +“Never!” said Lingard, turning half round in his chair to look at +Willems. His fierce red eyes glittered remorselessly over the high back +of his seat. + +“Must cross the river. Water less quick over there,” said Ali. + +He pushed in his turn now with all his strength, throwing his body +recklessly right out over the stern. Then he recovered himself just in +time into the squatting attitude of a monkey perched on a high shelf, +and shouted: “Dayong!” + +The paddles struck the water together. The canoe darted forward and went +on steadily crossing the river with a sideways motion made up of its own +speed and the downward drift of the current. + +Lingard watched the shore astern. The woman shook her hand at him, and +then squatted at the feet of the man who stood motionless. After a while +she got up and stood beside him, reaching up to his head--and Lingard +saw then that she had wetted some part of her covering and was trying to +wash the dried blood off the man’s immovable face, which did not seem +to know anything about it. Lingard turned away and threw himself back in +his chair, stretching his legs out with a sigh of fatigue. His head +fell forward; and under his red face the white beard lay fan-like on his +breast, the ends of fine long hairs all astir in the faint draught +made by the rapid motion of the craft that carried him away from his +prisoner--from the only thing in his life he wished to hide. + +In its course across the river the canoe came into the line of Willems’ +sight and his eyes caught the image, followed it eagerly as it glided, +small but distinct, on the dark background of the forest. He could see +plainly the figure of the man sitting in the middle. All his life he had +felt that man behind his back, a reassuring presence ready with help, +with commendation, with advice; friendly in reproof, enthusiastic +in approbation; a man inspiring confidence by his strength, by his +fearlessness, by the very weakness of his simple heart. And now that man +was going away. He must call him back. + +He shouted, and his words, which he wanted to throw across the river, +seemed to fall helplessly at his feet. Aissa put her hand on his arm in +a restraining attempt, but he shook it off. He wanted to call back his +very life that was going away from him. He shouted again--and this time +he did not even hear himself. No use. He would never return. And he +stood in sullen silence looking at the white figure over there, lying +back in the chair in the middle of the boat; a figure that struck him +suddenly as very terrible, heartless and astonishing, with its unnatural +appearance of running over the water in an attitude of languid repose. + +For a time nothing on earth stirred, seemingly, but the canoe, which +glided up-stream with a motion so even and smooth that it did not convey +any sense of movement. Overhead, the massed clouds appeared solid and +steady as if held there in a powerful grip, but on their uneven surface +there was a continuous and trembling glimmer, a faint reflection of the +distant lightning from the thunderstorm that had broken already on the +coast and was working its way up the river with low and angry growls. +Willems looked on, as motionless as everything round him and above him. +Only his eyes seemed to live, as they followed the canoe on its course +that carried it away from him, steadily, unhesitatingly, finally, as if +it were going, not up the great river into the momentous excitement of +Sambir, but straight into the past, into the past crowded yet empty, +like an old cemetery full of neglected graves, where lie dead hopes that +never return. + +From time to time he felt on his face the passing, warm touch of an +immense breath coming from beyond the forest, like the short panting of +an oppressed world. Then the heavy air round him was pierced by a sharp +gust of wind, bringing with it the fresh, damp feel of the falling rain; +and all the innumerable tree-tops of the forests swayed to the left +and sprang back again in a tumultuous balancing of nodding branches and +shuddering leaves. A light frown ran over the river, the clouds stirred +slowly, changing their aspect but not their place, as if they had +turned ponderously over; and when the sudden movement had died out in +a quickened tremor of the slenderest twigs, there was a short period +of formidable immobility above and below, during which the voice of the +thunder was heard, speaking in a sustained, emphatic and vibrating +roll, with violent louder bursts of crashing sound, like a wrathful and +threatening discourse of an angry god. For a moment it died out, and +then another gust of wind passed, driving before it a white mist which +filled the space with a cloud of waterdust that hid suddenly from +Willems the canoe, the forests, the river itself; that woke him up from +his numbness in a forlorn shiver, that made him look round despairingly +to see nothing but the whirling drift of rain spray before the +freshening breeze, while through it the heavy big drops fell about him +with sonorous and rapid beats upon the dry earth. He made a few hurried +steps up the courtyard and was arrested by an immense sheet of water +that fell all at once on him, fell sudden and overwhelming from the +clouds, cutting his respiration, streaming over his head, clinging to +him, running down his body, off his arms, off his legs. He stood gasping +while the water beat him in a vertical downpour, drove on him slanting +in squalls, and he felt the drops striking him from above, from +everywhere; drops thick, pressed and dashing at him as if flung from all +sides by a mob of infuriated hands. From under his feet a great vapour +of broken water floated up, he felt the ground become soft--melt under +him--and saw the water spring out from the dry earth to meet the water +that fell from the sombre heaven. An insane dread took possession of +him, the dread of all that water around him, of the water that ran down +the courtyard towards him, of the water that pressed him on every side, +of the slanting water that drove across his face in wavering sheets +which gleamed pale red with the flicker of lightning streaming through +them, as if fire and water were falling together, monstrously mixed, +upon the stunned earth. + +He wanted to run away, but when he moved it was to slide about painfully +and slowly upon that earth which had become mud so suddenly under his +feet. He fought his way up the courtyard like a man pushing through +a crowd, his head down, one shoulder forward, stopping often, and +sometimes carried back a pace or two in the rush of water which his +heart was not stout enough to face. Aissa followed him step by step, +stopping when he stopped, recoiling with him, moving forward with him +in his toilsome way up the slippery declivity of the courtyard, of that +courtyard, from which everything seemed to have been swept away by the +first rush of the mighty downpour. They could see nothing. The tree, the +bushes, the house, and the fences--all had disappeared in the thickness +of the falling rain. Their hair stuck, streaming, to their heads; their +clothing clung to them, beaten close to their bodies; water ran off +them, off their heads over their shoulders. They moved, patient, +upright, slow and dark, in the gleam clear or fiery of the falling +drops, under the roll of unceasing thunder, like two wandering ghosts +of the drowned that, condemned to haunt the water for ever, had come up +from the river to look at the world under a deluge. + +On the left the tree seemed to step out to meet them, appearing vaguely, +high, motionless and patient; with a rustling plaint of its innumerable +leaves through which every drop of water tore its separate way with +cruel haste. And then, to the right, the house surged up in the +mist, very black, and clamorous with the quick patter of rain on its +high-pitched roof above the steady splash of the water running off the +eaves. Down the plankway leading to the door flowed a thin and pellucid +stream, and when Willems began his ascent it broke over his foot as +if he were going up a steep ravine in the bed of a rapid and shallow +torrent. Behind his heels two streaming smudges of mud stained for an +instant the purity of the rushing water, and then he splashed his way up +with a spurt and stood on the bamboo platform before the open door under +the shelter of the overhanging eaves--under shelter at last! + +A low moan ending in a broken and plaintive mutter arrested Willems on +the threshold. He peered round in the half-light under the roof and saw +the old woman crouching close to the wall in a shapeless heap, and while +he looked he felt a touch of two arms on his shoulders. Aissa! He had +forgotten her. He turned, and she clasped him round the neck instantly, +pressing close to him as if afraid of violence or escape. He stiffened +himself in repulsion, in horror, in the mysterious revolt of his heart; +while she clung to him--clung to him as if he were a refuge from misery, +from storm, from weariness, from fear, from despair; and it was on the +part of that being an embrace terrible, enraged and mournful, in which +all her strength went out to make him captive, to hold him for ever. + +He said nothing. He looked into her eyes while he struggled with her +fingers about the nape of his neck, and suddenly he tore her hands +apart, holding her arms up in a strong grip of her wrists, and bending +his swollen face close over hers, he said-- + +“It is all your doing. You . . .” + +She did not understand him--not a word. He spoke in the language of his +people--of his people that know no mercy and no shame. And he was angry. +Alas! he was always angry now, and always speaking words that she could +not understand. She stood in silence, looking at him through her patient +eyes, while he shook her arms a little and then flung them down. + +“Don’t follow me!” he shouted. “I want to be alone--I mean to be left +alone!” + +He went in, leaving the door open. + +She did not move. What need to understand the words when they are spoken +in such a voice? In that voice which did not seem to be his voice--his +voice when he spoke by the brook, when he was never angry and always +smiling! Her eyes were fixed upon the dark doorway, but her hands +strayed mechanically upwards; she took up all her hair, and, inclining +her head slightly over her shoulder, wrung out the long black tresses, +twisting them persistently, while she stood, sad and absorbed, like one +listening to an inward voice--the voice of bitter, of unavailing +regret. The thunder had ceased, the wind had died out, and the rain fell +perpendicular and steady through a great pale clearness--the light of +remote sun coming victorious from amongst the dissolving blackness of +the clouds. She stood near the doorway. He was there--alone in the gloom +of the dwelling. He was there. He spoke not. What was in his mind now? +What fear? What desire? Not the desire of her as in the days when he +used to smile . . . How could she know? . . . + +A sigh coming from the bottom of her heart, flew out into the world +through her parted lips. A sigh faint, profound, and broken; a sigh +full of pain and fear, like the sigh of those who are about to face the +unknown: to face it in loneliness, in doubt, and without hope. She let +go her hair, that fell scattered over her shoulders like a funeral veil, +and she sank down suddenly by the door. Her hands clasped her ankles; +she rested her head on her drawn-up knees, and remained still, very +still, under the streaming mourning of her hair. She was thinking of +him; of the days by the brook; she was thinking of all that had been +their love--and she sat in the abandoned posture of those who sit +weeping by the dead, of those who watch and mourn over a corpse. + + + + +PART V + + +CHAPTER ONE + +Almayer propped, alone on the verandah of his house, with both his +elbows on the table, and holding his head between his hands, stared +before him, away over the stretch of sprouting young grass in his +courtyard, and over the short jetty with its cluster of small canoes, +amongst which his big whale-boat floated high, like a white mother +of all that dark and aquatic brood. He stared on the river, past the +schooner anchored in mid-stream, past the forests of the left bank; he +stared through and past the illusion of the material world. + +The sun was sinking. Under the sky was stretched a network of white +threads, a network fine and close-meshed, where here and there were +caught thicker white vapours of globular shape; and to the eastward, +above the ragged barrier of the forests, surged the summits of a chain +of great clouds, growing bigger slowly, in imperceptible motion, as if +careful not to disturb the glowing stillness of the earth and of the +sky. Abreast of the house the river was empty but for the motionless +schooner. Higher up, a solitary log came out from the bend above and +went on drifting slowly down the straight reach: a dead and wandering +tree going out to its grave in the sea, between two ranks of trees +motionless and living. + +And Almayer sat, his face in his hands, looking on and hating all this: +the muddy river; the faded blue of the sky; the black log passing by on +its first and last voyage; the green sea of leaves--the sea that glowed +shimmered, and stirred above the uniform and impenetrable gloom of the +forests--the joyous sea of living green powdered with the brilliant dust +of oblique sunrays. + +He hated all this; he begrudged every day--every minute--of his life +spent amongst all these things; he begrudged it bitterly, angrily, with +enraged and immense regret, like a miser compelled to give up some of +his treasure to a near relation. And yet all this was very precious to +him. It was the present sign of a splendid future. + +He pushed the table away impatiently, got up, made a few steps +aimlessly, then stood by the balustrade and again looked at the +river--at that river which would have been the instrument for the making +of his fortune if . . . if . . . + +“What an abominable brute!” he said. + +He was alone, but he spoke aloud, as one is apt to do under the impulse +of a strong, of an overmastering thought. + +“What a brute!” he muttered again. + +The river was dark now, and the schooner lay on it, a black, a lonely, +and a graceful form, with the slender masts darting upwards from it +in two frail and raking lines. The shadows of the evening crept up the +trees, crept up from bough to bough, till at last the long sunbeams +coursing from the western horizon skimmed lightly over the topmost +branches, then flew upwards amongst the piled-up clouds, giving them +a sombre and fiery aspect in the last flush of light. And suddenly the +light disappeared as if lost in the immensity of the great, blue, +and empty hollow overhead. The sun had set: and the forests became +a straight wall of formless blackness. Above them, on the edge of +lingering clouds, a single star glimmered fitfully, obscured now and +then by the rapid flight of high and invisible vapours. + +Almayer fought with the uneasiness within his breast. He heard Ali, +who moved behind him preparing his evening meal, and he listened with +strange attention to the sounds the man made--to the short, dry bang +of the plate put upon the table, to the clink of glass and the metallic +rattle of knife and fork. The man went away. Now he was coming back. He +would speak directly; and Almayer, notwithstanding the absorbing gravity +of his thoughts, listened for the sound of expected words. He heard +them, spoken in English with painstaking distinctness. + +“Ready, sir!” + +“All right,” said Almayer, curtly. He did not move. He remained pensive, +with his back to the table upon which stood the lighted lamp brought +by Ali. He was thinking: “Where was Lingard now? Halfway down the +river probably, in Abdulla’s ship. He would be back in about three +days--perhaps less. And then? Then the schooner would have to be got out +of the river, and when that craft was gone they--he and Lingard--would +remain here; alone with the constant thought of that other man, that +other man living near them! What an extraordinary idea to keep him +there for ever. For ever! What did that mean--for ever? Perhaps a year, +perhaps ten years. Preposterous! Keep him there ten years--or may be +twenty! The fellow was capable of living more than twenty years. And for +all that time he would have to be watched, fed, looked after. There was +nobody but Lingard to have such notions. Twenty years! Why, no! In less +than ten years their fortune would be made and they would leave this +place, first for Batavia--yes, Batavia--and then for Europe. England, +no doubt. Lingard would want to go to England. And would they leave that +man here? How would that fellow look in ten years? Very old probably. +Well, devil take him. Nina would be fifteen. She would be rich and very +pretty and he himself would not be so old then. . . .” + +Almayer smiled into the night. + +. . . Yes, rich! Why! Of course! Captain Lingard was a resourceful man, +and he had plenty of money even now. They were rich already; but not +enough. Decidedly not enough. Money brings money. That gold business was +good. Famous! Captain Lingard was a remarkable man. He said the gold was +there--and it was there. Lingard knew what he was talking about. But he +had queer ideas. For instance, about Willems. Now what did he want to +keep him alive for? Why? + +“That scoundrel,” muttered Almayer again. + +“Makan Tuan!” ejaculated Ali suddenly, very loud in a pressing tone. + +Almayer walked to the table, sat down, and his anxious visage dropped +from above into the light thrown down by the lamp-shade. He helped +himself absently, and began to eat in great mouthfuls. + +. . . Undoubtedly, Lingard was the man to stick to! The man undismayed, +masterful and ready. How quickly he had planned a new future when +Willems’ treachery destroyed their established position in Sambir! And +the position even now was not so bad. What an immense prestige that +Lingard had with all those people--Arabs, Malays and all. Ah, it was +good to be able to call a man like that father. Fine! Wonder how much +money really the old fellow had. People talked--they exaggerated surely, +but if he had only half of what they said . . . + +He drank, throwing his head up, and fell to again. + +. . . Now, if that Willems had known how to play his cards well, had he +stuck to the old fellow he would have been in his position, he would +be now married to Lingard’s adopted daughter with his future +assured--splendid . . . + +“The beast!” growled Almayer, between two mouthfuls. + +Ali stood rigidly straight with an uninterested face, his gaze lost in +the night which pressed round the small circle of light that shone on +the table, on the glass, on the bottle, and on Almayer’s head as he +leaned over his plate moving his jaws. + +. . . A famous man Lingard--yet you never knew what he would do next. +It was notorious that he had shot a white man once for less than Willems +had done. For less? . . . Why, for nothing, so to speak! It was not even +his own quarrel. It was about some Malay returning from pilgrimage +with wife and children. Kidnapped, or robbed, or something. A stupid +story--an old story. And now he goes to see that Willems and--nothing. +Comes back talking big about his prisoner; but after all he said very +little. What did that Willems tell him? What passed between them? +The old fellow must have had something in his mind when he let that +scoundrel off. And Joanna! She would get round the old fellow. Sure. +Then he would forgive perhaps. Impossible. But at any rate he would +waste a lot of money on them. The old man was tenacious in his hates, +but also in his affections. He had known that beast Willems from a boy. +They would make it up in a year or so. Everything is possible: why did +he not rush off at first and kill the brute? That would have been more +like Lingard. . . . + +Almayer laid down his spoon suddenly, and pushing his plate away, threw +himself back in the chair. + +. . . Unsafe. Decidedly unsafe. He had no mind to share Lingard’s +money with anybody. Lingard’s money was Nina’s money in a sense. And +if Willems managed to become friendly with the old man it would be +dangerous for him--Almayer. Such an unscrupulous scoundrel! He would +oust him from his position. He would lie and slander. Everything would +be lost. Lost. Poor Nina. What would become of her? Poor child. For her +sake he must remove that Willems. Must. But how? Lingard wanted to be +obeyed. Impossible to kill Willems. Lingard might be angry. Incredible, +but so it was. He might . . . + +A wave of heat passed through Almayer’s body, flushed his face, and +broke out of him in copious perspiration. He wriggled in his chair, and +pressed his hands together under the table. What an awful prospect! +He fancied he could see Lingard and Willems reconciled and going away +arm-in-arm, leaving him alone in this God-forsaken hole--in Sambir--in +this deadly swamp! And all his sacrifices, the sacrifice of his +independence, of his best years, his surrender to Lingard’s fancies and +caprices, would go for nothing! Horrible! Then he thought of his +little daughter--his daughter!--and the ghastliness of his supposition +overpowered him. He had a deep emotion, a sudden emotion that made him +feel quite faint at the idea of that young life spoiled before it had +fairly begun. His dear child’s life! Lying back in his chair he covered +his face with both his hands. + +Ali glanced down at him and said, unconcernedly--“Master finish?” + +Almayer was lost in the immensity of his commiseration for himself, for +his daughter, who was--perhaps--not going to be the richest woman in +the world--notwithstanding Lingard’s promises. He did not understand the +other’s question, and muttered through his fingers in a doleful tone-- + +“What did you say? What? Finish what?” + +“Clear up meza,” explained Ali. + +“Clear up!” burst out Almayer, with incomprehensible exasperation. +“Devil take you and the table. Stupid! Chatterer! Chelakka! Get out!” + +He leaned forward, glaring at his head man, then sank back in his seat +with his arms hanging straight down on each side of the chair. And he +sat motionless in a meditation so concentrated and so absorbing, with +all his power of thought so deep within himself, that all expression +disappeared from his face in an aspect of staring vacancy. + +Ali was clearing the table. He dropped negligently the tumbler into the +greasy dish, flung there the spoon and fork, then slipped in the plate +with a push amongst the remnants of food. He took up the dish, tucked up +the bottle under his armpit, and went off. + +“My hammock!” shouted Almayer after him. + +“Ada! I come soon,” answered Ali from the doorway in an offended tone, +looking back over his shoulder. . . . How could he clear the table +and hang the hammock at the same time. Ya-wa! Those white men were all +alike. Wanted everything done at once. Like children . . . + +The indistinct murmur of his criticism went away, faded and died out +together with the soft footfall of his bare feet in the dark passage. + +For some time Almayer did not move. His thoughts were busy at work +shaping a momentous resolution, and in the perfect silence of the house +he believed that he could hear the noise of the operation as if the work +had been done with a hammer. He certainly felt a thumping of strokes, +faint, profound, and startling, somewhere low down in his breast; and +he was aware of a sound of dull knocking, abrupt and rapid, in his ears. +Now and then he held his breath, unconsciously, too long, and had to +relieve himself by a deep expiration that whistled dully through his +pursed lips. The lamp standing on the far side of the table threw a +section of a lighted circle on the floor, where his out-stretched legs +stuck out from under the table with feet rigid and turned up like the +feet of a corpse; and his set face with fixed eyes would have been also +like the face of the dead, but for its vacant yet conscious aspect; +the hard, the stupid, the stony aspect of one not dead, but only buried +under the dust, ashes, and corruption of personal thoughts, of base +fears, of selfish desires. + +“I will do it!” + +Not till he heard his own voice did he know that he had spoken. It +startled him. He stood up. The knuckles of his hand, somewhat behind +him, were resting on the edge of the table as he remained still with one +foot advanced, his lips a little open, and thought: It would not do to +fool about with Lingard. But I must risk it. It’s the only way I can +see. I must tell her. She has some little sense. I wish they were a +thousand miles off already. A hundred thousand miles. I do. And if +it fails. And she blabs out then to Lingard? She seemed a fool. No; +probably they will get away. And if they did, would Lingard believe me? +Yes. I never lied to him. He would believe. I don’t know . . . Perhaps +he won’t. . . . “I must do it. Must!” he argued aloud to himself. + +For a long time he stood still, looking before him with an intense gaze, +a gaze rapt and immobile, that seemed to watch the minute quivering of a +delicate balance, coming to a rest. + +To the left of him, in the whitewashed wall of the house that formed +the back of the verandah, there was a closed door. Black letters were +painted on it proclaiming the fact that behind that door there was the +office of Lingard & Co. The interior had been furnished by Lingard when +he had built the house for his adopted daughter and her husband, and it +had been furnished with reckless prodigality. There was an office desk, +a revolving chair, bookshelves, a safe: all to humour the weakness of +Almayer, who thought all those paraphernalia necessary to successful +trading. Lingard had laughed, but had taken immense trouble to get the +things. It pleased him to make his protege, his adopted son-in-law, +happy. It had been the sensation of Sambir some five years ago. While +the things were being landed, the whole settlement literally lived on +the river bank in front of the Rajah Laut’s house, to look, to wonder, +to admire. . . . What a big meza, with many boxes fitted all over it and +under it! What did the white man do with such a table? And look, look, O +Brothers! There is a green square box, with a gold plate on it, a box +so heavy that those twenty men cannot drag it up the bank. Let us go, +brothers, and help pull at the ropes, and perchance we may see what’s +inside. Treasure, no doubt. Gold is heavy and hard to hold, O Brothers! +Let us go and earn a recompense from the fierce Rajah of the Sea who +shouts over there, with a red face. See! There is a man carrying a pile +of books from the boat! What a number of books. What were they for? +. . . And an old invalided jurumudi, who had travelled over many seas and +had heard holy men speak in far-off countries, explained to a small knot +of unsophisticated citizens of Sambir that those books were books of +magic--of magic that guides the white men’s ships over the seas, that +gives them their wicked wisdom and their strength; of magic that makes +them great, powerful, and irresistible while they live, and--praise be +to Allah!--the victims of Satan, the slaves of Jehannum when they die. + +And when he saw the room furnished, Almayer had felt proud. In his +exultation of an empty-headed quill-driver, he thought himself, by the +virtue of that furniture, at the head of a serious business. He had +sold himself to Lingard for these things--married the Malay girl of his +adoption for the reward of these things and of the great wealth that +must necessarily follow upon conscientious book-keeping. He found out +very soon that trade in Sambir meant something entirely different. He +could not guide Patalolo, control the irrepressible old Sahamin, or +restrain the youthful vagaries of the fierce Bahassoen with pen, ink, +and paper. He found no successful magic in the blank pages of his +ledgers; and gradually he lost his old point of view in the saner +appreciation of his situation. The room known as the office became +neglected then like a temple of an exploded superstition. At first, when +his wife reverted to her original savagery, Almayer, now and again, had +sought refuge from her there; but after their child began to speak, to +know him, he became braver, for he found courage and consolation in his +unreasoning and fierce affection for his daughter--in the impenetrable +mantle of selfishness he wrapped round both their lives: round himself, +and that young life that was also his. + +When Lingard ordered him to receive Joanna into his house, he had a +truckle bed put into the office--the only room he could spare. The big +office desk was pushed on one side, and Joanna came with her little +shabby trunk and with her child and took possession in her dreamy, +slack, half-asleep way; took possession of the dust, dirt, and squalor, +where she appeared naturally at home, where she dragged a melancholy and +dull existence; an existence made up of sad remorse and frightened hope, +amongst the hopeless disorder--the senseless and vain decay of all these +emblems of civilized commerce. Bits of white stuff; rags yellow, pink, +blue: rags limp, brilliant and soiled, trailed on the floor, lay on the +desk amongst the sombre covers of books soiled, grimy, but stiff-backed, +in virtue, perhaps, of their European origin. The biggest set of +bookshelves was partly hidden by a petticoat, the waistband of which was +caught upon the back of a slender book pulled a little out of the row so +as to make an improvised clothespeg. The folding canvas bedstead stood +nearly in the middle of the room, stood anyhow, parallel to no wall, as +if it had been, in the process of transportation to some remote place, +dropped casually there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled blankets +that lay in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat almost all day +with her stockingless feet upon one of the bed pillows that were somehow +always kicking about the floor. She sat there, vaguely tormented +at times by the thought of her absent husband, but most of the time +thinking tearfully of nothing at all, looking with swimming eyes at +her little son--at the big-headed, pasty-faced, and sickly Louis +Willems--who rolled a glass inkstand, solid with dried ink, about the +floor, and tottered after it with the portentous gravity of demeanour +and absolute absorption by the business in hand that characterize the +pursuits of early childhood. Through the half-open shutter a ray of +sunlight, a ray merciless and crude, came into the room, beat in the +early morning upon the safe in the far-off corner, then, travelling +against the sun, cut at midday the big desk in two with its solid and +clean-edged brilliance; with its hot brilliance in which a swarm of +flies hovered in dancing flight over some dirty plate forgotten there +amongst yellow papers for many a day. And towards the evening the +cynical ray seemed to cling to the ragged petticoat, lingered on it with +wicked enjoyment of that misery it had exposed all day; lingered on the +corner of the dusty bookshelf, in a red glow intense and mocking, till +it was suddenly snatched by the setting sun out of the way of the coming +night. And the night entered the room. The night abrupt, impenetrable +and all-filling with its flood of darkness; the night cool and merciful; +the blind night that saw nothing, but could hear the fretful whimpering +of the child, the creak of the bedstead, Joanna’s deep sighs as she +turned over, sleepless, in the confused conviction of her wickedness, +thinking of that man masterful, fair-headed, and strong--a man hard +perhaps, but her husband; her clever and handsome husband to whom she +had acted so cruelly on the advice of bad people, if her own people; and +of her poor, dear, deceived mother. + +To Almayer, Joanna’s presence was a constant worry, a worry unobtrusive +yet intolerable; a constant, but mostly mute, warning of possible +danger. In view of the absurd softness of Lingard’s heart, every one in +whom Lingard manifested the slightest interest was to Almayer a natural +enemy. He was quite alive to that feeling, and in the intimacy of the +secret intercourse with his inner self had often congratulated himself +upon his own wide-awake comprehension of his position. In that way, and +impelled by that motive, Almayer had hated many and various persons at +various times. But he never had hated and feared anybody so much as he +did hate and fear Willems. Even after Willems’ treachery, which seemed +to remove him beyond the pale of all human sympathy, Almayer mistrusted +the situation and groaned in spirit every time he caught sight of +Joanna. + +He saw her very seldom in the daytime. But in the short and opal-tinted +twilights, or in the azure dusk of starry evenings, he often saw, before +he slept, the slender and tall figure trailing to and fro the ragged +tail of its white gown over the dried mud of the riverside in front of +the house. Once or twice when he sat late on the verandah, with his feet +upon the deal table on a level with the lamp, reading the seven months’ +old copy of the North China Herald, brought by Lingard, he heard the +stairs creak, and, looking round the paper, he saw her frail and meagre +form rise step by step and toil across the verandah, carrying with +difficulty the big, fat child, whose head, lying on the mother’s bony +shoulder, seemed of the same size as Joanna’s own. Several times she had +assailed him with tearful clamour or mad entreaties: asking about her +husband, wanting to know where he was, when he would be back; and ending +every such outburst with despairing and incoherent self-reproaches that +were absolutely incomprehensible to Almayer. On one or two occasions she +had overwhelmed her host with vituperative abuse, making him responsible +for her husband’s absence. Those scenes, begun without any warning, +ended abruptly in a sobbing flight and a bang of the door; stirred the +house with a sudden, a fierce, and an evanescent disturbance; like those +inexplicable whirlwinds that rise, run, and vanish without apparent +cause upon the sun-scorched dead level of arid and lamentable plains. + +But to-night the house was quiet, deadly quiet, while Almayer stood +still, watching that delicate balance where he was weighing all his +chances: Joanna’s intelligence, Lingard’s credulity, Willems’ +reckless audacity, desire to escape, readiness to seize an unexpected +opportunity. He weighed, anxious and attentive, his fears and his +desires against the tremendous risk of a quarrel with Lingard. . . . +Yes. Lingard would be angry. Lingard might suspect him of some +connivance in his prisoner’s escape--but surely he would not quarrel +with him--Almayer--about those people once they were gone--gone to the +devil in their own way. And then he had hold of Lingard through the +little girl. Good. What an annoyance! A prisoner! As if one could keep +him in there. He was bound to get away some time or other. Of course. +A situation like that can’t last. Anybody could see that. Lingard’s +eccentricity passed all bounds. You may kill a man, but you mustn’t +torture him. It was almost criminal. It caused worry, trouble, and +unpleasantness. . . . Almayer for a moment felt very angry with Lingard. +He made him responsible for the anguish he suffered from, for the +anguish of doubt and fear; for compelling him--the practical and +innocent Almayer--to such painful efforts of mind in order to find +out some issue for absurd situations created by the unreasonable +sentimentality of Lingard’s unpractical impulses. + +“Now if the fellow were dead it would be all right,” said Almayer to the +verandah. + +He stirred a little, and scratching his nose thoughtfully, revelled in +a short flight of fancy, showing him his own image crouching in a big +boat, that floated arrested--say fifty yards off--abreast of Willems’ +landing-place. In the bottom of the boat there was a gun. A loaded +gun. One of the boatmen would shout, and Willems would answer--from the +bushes. The rascal would be suspicious. Of course. Then the man would +wave a piece of paper urging Willems to come to the landing-place and +receive an important message. “From the Rajah Laut” the man would yell +as the boat edged in-shore, and that would fetch Willems out. Wouldn’t +it? Rather! And Almayer saw himself jumping up at the right moment, +taking aim, pulling the trigger--and Willems tumbling over, his head in +the water--the swine! + +He seemed to hear the report of the shot. It made him thrill from +head to foot where he stood. . . . How simple! . . . Unfortunate . . . +Lingard . . . He sighed, shook his head. Pity. Couldn’t be done. And +couldn’t leave him there either! Suppose the Arabs were to get hold of +him again--for instance to lead an expedition up the river! Goodness +only knows what harm would come of it. . . . + +The balance was at rest now and inclining to the side of immediate +action. Almayer walked to the door, walked up very close to it, knocked +loudly, and turned his head away, looking frightened for a moment at +what he had done. After waiting for a while he put his ear against the +panel and listened. Nothing. He composed his features into an agreeable +expression while he stood listening and thinking to himself: I hear her. +Crying. Eh? I believe she has lost the little wits she had and is crying +night and day since I began to prepare her for the news of her husband’s +death--as Lingard told me. I wonder what she thinks. It’s just like +father to make me invent all these stories for nothing at all. Out of +kindness. Kindness! Damn! . . . She isn’t deaf, surely. + +He knocked again, then said in a friendly tone, grinning benevolently at +the closed door-- + +“It’s me, Mrs. Willems. I want to speak to you. I have . . . have . . . +important news. . . .” + +“What is it?” + +“News,” repeated Almayer, distinctly. “News about your husband. Your +husband! . . . Damn him!” he added, under his breath. + +He heard a stumbling rush inside. Things were overturned. Joanna’s +agitated voice cried-- + +“News! What? What? I am coming out.” + +“No,” shouted Almayer. “Put on some clothes, Mrs. Willems, and let me +in. It’s . . . very confidential. You have a candle, haven’t you?” + +She was knocking herself about blindly amongst the furniture in that +room. The candlestick was upset. Matches were struck ineffectually. The +matchbox fell. He heard her drop on her knees and grope over the floor +while she kept on moaning in maddened distraction. + +“Oh, my God! News! Yes . . . yes. . . . Ah! where . . . where . . . +candle. Oh, my God! . . . I can’t find . . . Don’t go away, for the love +of Heaven . . .” + +“I don’t want to go away,” said Almayer, impatiently, through the +keyhole; “but look sharp. It’s coni . . . it’s pressing.” + +He stamped his foot lightly, waiting with his hand on the door-handle. +He thought anxiously: The woman’s a perfect idiot. Why should I go away? +She will be off her head. She will never catch my meaning. She’s too +stupid. + +She was moving now inside the room hurriedly and in silence. He waited. +There was a moment of perfect stillness in there, and then she spoke +in an exhausted voice, in words that were shaped out of an expiring +sigh--out of a sigh light and profound, like words breathed out by a +woman before going off into a dead faint-- + +“Come in.” + +He pushed the door. Ali, coming through the passage with an armful +of pillows and blankets pressed to his breast high up under his chin, +caught sight of his master before the door closed behind him. He was so +astonished that he dropped his bundle and stood staring at the door for +a long time. He heard the voice of his master talking. Talking to that +Sirani woman! Who was she? He had never thought about that really. He +speculated for a while hazily upon things in general. She was a Sirani +woman--and ugly. He made a disdainful grimace, picked up the bedding, +and went about his work, slinging the hammock between two uprights of +the verandah. . . . Those things did not concern him. She was ugly, +and brought here by the Rajah Laut, and his master spoke to her in the +night. Very well. He, Ali, had his work to do. Sling the hammock--go +round and see that the watchmen were awake--take a look at the moorings +of the boats, at the padlock of the big storehouse--then go to sleep. +To sleep! He shivered pleasantly. He leaned with both arms over his +master’s hammock and fell into a light doze. + +A scream, unexpected, piercing--a scream beginning at once in the +highest pitch of a woman’s voice and then cut short, so short that it +suggested the swift work of death--caused Ali to jump on one side +away from the hammock, and the silence that succeeded seemed to him +as startling as the awful shriek. He was thunderstruck with surprise. +Almayer came out of the office, leaving the door ajar, passed close +to his servant without taking any notice, and made straight for the +water-chatty hung on a nail in a draughty place. He took it down and +came back, missing the petrified Ali by an inch. He moved with long +strides, yet, notwithstanding his haste, stopped short before the door, +and, throwing his head back, poured a thin stream of water down his +throat. While he came and went, while he stopped to drink, while he did +all this, there came steadily from the dark room the sound of feeble and +persistent crying, the crying of a sleepy and frightened child. After he +had drunk, Almayer went in, closing the door carefully. + +Ali did not budge. That Sirani woman shrieked! He felt an immense +curiosity very unusual to his stolid disposition. He could not take his +eyes off the door. Was she dead in there? How interesting and funny! He +stood with open mouth till he heard again the rattle of the door-handle. +Master coming out. He pivoted on his heels with great rapidity and made +believe to be absorbed in the contemplation of the night outside. He +heard Almayer moving about behind his back. Chairs were displaced. His +master sat down. + +“Ali,” said Almayer. + +His face was gloomy and thoughtful. He looked at his head man, who +had approached the table, then he pulled out his watch. It was going. +Whenever Lingard was in Sambir Almayer’s watch was going. He would set +it by the cabin clock, telling himself every time that he must really +keep that watch going for the future. And every time, when Lingard +went away, he would let it run down and would measure his weariness +by sunrises and sunsets in an apathetic indifference to mere hours; to +hours only; to hours that had no importance in Sambir life, in the tired +stagnation of empty days; when nothing mattered to him but the quality +of guttah and the size of rattans; where there were no small hopes to +be watched for; where to him there was nothing interesting, nothing +supportable, nothing desirable to expect; nothing bitter but the +slowness of the passing days; nothing sweet but the hope, the distant +and glorious hope--the hope wearying, aching and precious, of getting +away. + +He looked at the watch. Half-past eight. Ali waited stolidly. + +“Go to the settlement,” said Almayer, “and tell Mahmat Banjer to come +and speak to me to-night.” + +Ali went off muttering. He did not like his errand. Banjer and his two +brothers were Bajow vagabonds who had appeared lately in Sambir and had +been allowed to take possession of a tumbledown abandoned hut, on three +posts, belonging to Lingard & Co., and standing just outside their +fence. Ali disapproved of the favour shown to those strangers. Any kind +of dwelling was valuable in Sambir at that time, and if master did not +want that old rotten house he might have given it to him, Ali, who was +his servant, instead of bestowing it upon those bad men. Everybody +knew they were bad. It was well known that they had stolen a boat +from Hinopari, who was very aged and feeble and had no sons; and that +afterwards, by the truculent recklessness of their demeanour, they +had frightened the poor old man into holding his tongue about it. Yet +everybody knew of it. It was one of the tolerated scandals of Sambir, +disapproved and accepted, a manifestation of that base acquiescence in +success, of that inexpressed and cowardly toleration of strength, that +exists, infamous and irremediable, at the bottom of all hearts, in all +societies; whenever men congregate; in bigger and more virtuous places +than Sambir, and in Sambir also, where, as in other places, one man +could steal a boat with impunity while another would have no right to +look at a paddle. + +Almayer, leaning back in his chair, meditated. The more he thought, the +more he felt convinced that Banjer and his brothers were exactly the men +he wanted. Those fellows were sea gipsies, and could disappear without +attracting notice; and if they returned, nobody--and Lingard least of +all--would dream of seeking information from them. Moreover, they had +no personal interest of any kind in Sambir affairs--had taken no +sides--would know nothing anyway. + +He called in a strong voice: “Mrs. Willems!” + +She came out quickly, almost startling him, so much did she appear as +though she had surged up through the floor, on the other side of the +table. The lamp was between them, and Almayer moved it aside, looking up +at her from his chair. She was crying. She was crying gently, silently, +in a ceaseless welling up of tears that did not fall in drops, but +seemed to overflow in a clear sheet from under her eyelids--seemed +to flow at once all over her face, her cheeks, and over her chin that +glistened with moisture in the light. Her breast and her shoulders were +shaken repeatedly by a convulsive and noiseless catching in her breath, +and after every spasmodic sob her sorrowful little head, tied up in +a red kerchief, trembled on her long neck, round which her bony hand +gathered and clasped the disarranged dress. + +“Compose yourself, Mrs. Willems,” said Almayer. + +She emitted an inarticulate sound that seemed to be a faint, a very far +off, a hardly audible cry of mortal distress. Then the tears went on +flowing in profound stillness. + +“You must understand that I have told you all this because I am your +friend--real friend,” said Almayer, after looking at her for some time +with visible dissatisfaction. “You, his wife, ought to know the danger +he is in. Captain Lingard is a terrible man, you know.” + +She blubbered out, sniffing and sobbing together. + +“Do you . . . you . . . speak . . . the . . . the truth now?” + +“Upon my word of honour. On the head of my child,” protested Almayer. “I +had to deceive you till now because of Captain Lingard. But I couldn’t +bear it. Think only what a risk I run in telling you--if ever Lingard +was to know! Why should I do it? Pure friendship. Dear Peter was my +colleague in Macassar for years, you know.” + +“What shall I do . . . what shall I do!” she exclaimed, faintly, looking +around on every side as if she could not make up her mind which way to +rush off. + +“You must help him to clear out, now Lingard is away. He offended +Lingard, and that’s no joke. Lingard said he would kill him. He will do +it, too,” said Almayer, earnestly. + +She wrung her hands. “Oh! the wicked man. The wicked, wicked man!” she +moaned, swaying her body from side to side. + +“Yes. Yes! He is terrible,” assented Almayer. “You must not lose any +time. I say! Do you understand me, Mrs. Willems? Think of your husband. +Of your poor husband. How happy he will be. You will bring him his +life--actually his life. Think of him.” + +She ceased her swaying movement, and now, with her head sunk between +her shoulders, she hugged herself with both her arms; and she stared at +Almayer with wild eyes, while her teeth chattered, rattling violently +and uninterruptedly, with a very loud sound, in the deep peace of the +house. + +“Oh! Mother of God!” she wailed. “I am a miserable woman. Will he +forgive me? The poor, innocent man. Will he forgive me? Oh, Mr. Almayer, +he is so severe. Oh! help me. . . . I dare not. . . . You don’t know +what I’ve done to him. . . . I daren’t! . . . I can’t! . . . God help +me!” + +The last words came in a despairing cry. Had she been flayed alive she +could not have sent to heaven a more terrible, a more heartrending and +anguished plaint. + +“Sh! Sh!” hissed Almayer, jumping up. “You will wake up everybody with +your shouting.” + +She kept on sobbing then without any noise, and Almayer stared at her +in boundless astonishment. The idea that, maybe, he had done wrong by +confiding in her, upset him so much that for a moment he could not find +a connected thought in his head. + +At last he said: “I swear to you that your husband is in such a position +that he would welcome the devil . . . listen well to me . . . the +devil himself if the devil came to him in a canoe. Unless I am much +mistaken,” he added, under his breath. Then again, loudly: “If you +have any little difference to make up with him, I assure you--I swear to +you--this is your time!” + +The ardently persuasive tone of his words--he thought--would have +carried irresistible conviction to a graven image. He noticed with +satisfaction that Joanna seemed to have got some inkling of his meaning. +He continued, speaking slowly-- + +“Look here, Mrs. Willems. I can’t do anything. Daren’t. But I will tell +you what I will do. There will come here in about ten minutes a Bugis +man--you know the language; you are from Macassar. He has a large canoe; +he can take you there. To the new Rajah’s clearing, tell him. They are +three brothers, ready for anything if you pay them . . . you have some +money. Haven’t you?” + +She stood--perhaps listening--but giving no sign of intelligence, +and stared at the floor in sudden immobility, as if the horror of the +situation, the overwhelming sense of her own wickedness and of her +husband’s great danger, had stunned her brain, her heart, her will--had +left her no faculty but that of breathing and of keeping on her feet. +Almayer swore to himself with much mental profanity that he had never +seen a more useless, a more stupid being. + +“D’ye hear me?” he said, raising his voice. “Do try to understand. Have +you any money? Money. Dollars. Guilders. Money! What’s the matter with +you?” + +Without raising her eyes she said, in a voice that sounded weak and +undecided as if she had been making a desperate effort of memory-- + +“The house has been sold. Mr. Hudig was angry.” + +Almayer gripped the edge of the table with all his strength. He resisted +manfully an almost uncontrollable impulse to fly at her and box her +ears. + +“It was sold for money, I suppose,” he said with studied and incisive +calmness. “Have you got it? Who has got it?” + +She looked up at him, raising her swollen eyelids with a great effort, +in a sorrowful expression of her drooping mouth, of her whole besmudged +and tear-stained face. She whispered resignedly-- + +“Leonard had some. He wanted to get married. And uncle Antonio; he sat +at the door and would not go away. And Aghostina--she is so poor . . . +and so many, many children--little children. And Luiz the engineer. He +never said a word against my husband. Also our cousin Maria. She came +and shouted, and my head was so bad, and my heart was worse. Then cousin +Salvator and old Daniel da Souza, who . . .” + +Almayer had listened to her speechless with rage. He thought: I must +give money now to that idiot. Must! Must get her out of the way now +before Lingard is back. He made two attempts to speak before he managed +to burst out-- + +“I don’t want to know their blasted names! Tell me, did all those +infernal people leave you anything? To you! That’s what I want to know!” + +“I have two hundred and fifteen dollars,” said Joanna, in a frightened +tone. + +Almayer breathed freely. He spoke with great friendliness-- + +“That will do. It isn’t much, but it will do. Now when the man comes I +will be out of the way. You speak to him. Give him some money; only +a little, mind! And promise more. Then when you get there you will be +guided by your husband, of course. And don’t forget to tell him that +Captain Lingard is at the mouth of the river--the northern entrance. You +will remember. Won’t you? The northern branch. Lingard is--death.” + +Joanna shivered. Almayer went on rapidly-- + +“I would have given you money if you had wanted it. ‘Pon my word! Tell +your husband I’ve sent you to him. And tell him not to lose any time. +And also say to him from me that we shall meet--some day. That I could +not die happy unless I met him once more. Only once. I love him, you +know. I prove it. Tremendous risk to me--this business is!” + +Joanna snatched his hand and before he knew what she would be at, +pressed it to her lips. + +“Mrs. Willems! Don’t. What are you . . .” cried the abashed Almayer, +tearing his hand away. + +“Oh, you are good!” she cried, with sudden exaltation, “You are noble +. . . I shall pray every day . . . to all the saints . . . I shall . . .” + +“Never mind . . . never mind!” stammered out Almayer, confusedly, +without knowing very well what he was saying. “Only look out for +Lingard. . . . I am happy to be able . . . in your sad situation . . . +believe me. . . .” + +They stood with the table between them, Joanna looking down, and her +face, in the half-light above the lamp, appeared like a soiled carving +of old ivory--a carving, with accentuated anxious hollows, of old, very +old ivory. Almayer looked at her, mistrustful, hopeful. He was saying +to himself: How frail she is! I could upset her by blowing at her. She +seems to have got some idea of what must be done, but will she have the +strength to carry it through? I must trust to luck now! + +Somewhere far in the back courtyard Ali’s voice rang suddenly in angry +remonstrance-- + +“Why did you shut the gate, O father of all mischief? You a watchman! +You are only a wild man. Did I not tell you I was coming back? You . . .” + +“I am off, Mrs. Willems,” exclaimed Almayer. “That man is here--with my +servant. Be calm. Try to . . .” + +He heard the footsteps of the two men in the passage, and without +finishing his sentence ran rapidly down the steps towards the riverside. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +For the next half-hour Almayer, who wanted to give Joanna plenty of +time, stumbled amongst the lumber in distant parts of his enclosure, +sneaked along the fences; or held his breath, flattened against grass +walls behind various outhouses: all this to escape Ali’s inconveniently +zealous search for his master. He heard him talk with the head +watchman--sometimes quite close to him in the darkness--then moving off, +coming back, wondering, and, as the time passed, growing uneasy. + +“He did not fall into the river?--say, thou blind watcher!” Ali was +growling in a bullying tone, to the other man. “He told me to fetch +Mahmat, and when I came back swiftly I found him not in the house. There +is that Sirani woman there, so that Mahmat cannot steal anything, but it +is in my mind, the night will be half gone before I rest.” + +He shouted-- + +“Master! O master! O mast . . .” + +“What are you making that noise for?” said Almayer, with severity, +stepping out close to them. + +The two Malays leaped away from each other in their surprise. + +“You may go. I don’t want you any more tonight, Ali,” went on Almayer. +“Is Mahmat there?” + +“Unless the ill-behaved savage got tired of waiting. Those men know +not politeness. They should not be spoken to by white men,” said Ali, +resentfully. + +Almayer went towards the house, leaving his servants to wonder where he +had sprung from so unexpectedly. The watchman hinted obscurely at powers +of invisibility possessed by the master, who often at night . . . Ali +interrupted him with great scorn. Not every white man has the power. +Now, the Rajah Laut could make himself invisible. Also, he could be +in two places at once, as everybody knew; except he--the useless +watchman--who knew no more about white men than a wild pig! Ya-wa! + +And Ali strolled towards his hut, yawning loudly. + +As Almayer ascended the steps he heard the noise of a door flung to, +and when he entered the verandah he saw only Mahmat there, close to the +doorway of the passage. Mahmat seemed to be caught in the very act of +slinking away, and Almayer noticed that with satisfaction. Seeing the +white man, the Malay gave up his attempt and leaned against the wall. He +was a short, thick, broad-shouldered man with very dark skin and a wide, +stained, bright-red mouth that uncovered, when he spoke, a close row +of black and glistening teeth. His eyes were big, prominent, dreamy and +restless. He said sulkily, looking all over the place from under his +eyebrows-- + +“White Tuan, you are great and strong--and I a poor man. Tell me what is +your will, and let me go in the name of God. It is late.” + +Almayer examined the man thoughtfully. How could he find out whether +. . . He had it! Lately he had employed that man and his two brothers as +extra boatmen to carry stores, provisions, and new axes to a camp of +rattan cutters some distance up the river. A three days’ expedition. He +would test him now in that way. He said negligently-- + +“I want you to start at once for the camp, with surat for the Kavitan. +One dollar a day.” + +The man appeared plunged in dull hesitation, but Almayer, who knew his +Malays, felt pretty sure from his aspect that nothing would induce the +fellow to go. He urged-- + +“It is important--and if you are swift I shall give two dollars for the +last day.” + +“No, Tuan. We do not go,” said the man, in a hoarse whisper. + +“Why?” + +“We start on another journey.” + +“Where?” + +“To a place we know of,” said Mahmat, a little louder, in a stubborn +manner, and looking at the floor. + +Almayer experienced a feeling of immense joy. He said, with affected +annoyance-- + +“You men live in my house and it is as if it were your own. I may want +my house soon.” + +Mahmat looked up. + +“We are men of the sea and care not for a roof when we have a canoe that +will hold three, and a paddle apiece. The sea is our house. Peace be +with you, Tuan.” + +He turned and went away rapidly, and Almayer heard him directly +afterwards in the courtyard calling to the watchman to open the gate. +Mahmat passed through the gate in silence, but before the bar had been +put up behind him he had made up his mind that if the white man ever +wanted to eject him from his hut, he would burn it and also as many of +the white man’s other buildings as he could safely get at. And he began +to call his brothers before he was inside the dilapidated dwelling. + +“All’s well!” muttered Almayer to himself, taking some loose Java +tobacco from a drawer in the table. “Now if anything comes out I am +clear. I asked the man to go up the river. I urged him. He will say so +himself. Good.” + +He began to charge the china bowl of his pipe, a pipe with a long cherry +stem and a curved mouthpiece, pressing the tobacco down with his thumb +and thinking: No. I sha’n’t see her again. Don’t want to. I will give +her a good start, then go in chase--and send an express boat after +father. Yes! that’s it. + +He approached the door of the office and said, holding his pipe away +from his lips-- + +“Good luck to you, Mrs. Willems. Don’t lose any time. You may get along +by the bushes; the fence there is out of repair. Don’t lose time. Don’t +forget that it is a matter of . . . life and death. And don’t forget +that I know nothing. I trust you.” + +He heard inside a noise as of a chest-lid falling down. She made a few +steps. Then a sigh, profound and long, and some faint words which he +did not catch. He moved away from the door on tiptoe, kicked off his +slippers in a corner of the verandah, then entered the passage puffing +at his pipe; entered cautiously in a gentle creaking of planks and +turned into a curtained entrance to the left. There was a big room. On +the floor a small binnacle lamp--that had found its way to the house +years ago from the lumber-room of the Flash--did duty for a night-light. +It glimmered very small and dull in the great darkness. Almayer walked +to it, and picking it up revived the flame by pulling the wick with his +fingers, which he shook directly after with a grimace of pain. Sleeping +shapes, covered--head and all--with white sheets, lay about on the mats +on the floor. In the middle of the room a small cot, under a square +white mosquito net, stood--the only piece of furniture between the four +walls--looking like an altar of transparent marble in a gloomy temple. A +woman, half-lying on the floor with her head dropped on her arms, which +were crossed on the foot of the cot, woke up as Almayer strode over +her outstretched legs. She sat up without a word, leaning forward, and, +clasping her knees, stared down with sad eyes, full of sleep. + +Almayer, the smoky light in one hand, his pipe in the other, stood +before the curtained cot looking at his daughter--at his little Nina--at +that part of himself, at that small and unconscious particle of humanity +that seemed to him to contain all his soul. And it was as if he had been +bathed in a bright and warm wave of tenderness, in a tenderness greater +than the world, more precious than life; the only thing real, living, +sweet, tangible, beautiful and safe amongst the elusive, the distorted +and menacing shadows of existence. On his face, lit up indistinctly by +the short yellow flame of the lamp, came a look of rapt attention +while he looked into her future. And he could see things there! Things +charming and splendid passing before him in a magic unrolling of +resplendent pictures; pictures of events brilliant, happy, inexpressibly +glorious, that would make up her life. He would do it! He would do it. +He would! He would--for that child! And as he stood in the still night, +lost in his enchanting and gorgeous dreams, while the ascending, thin +thread of tobacco smoke spread into a faint bluish cloud above his head, +he appeared strangely impressive and ecstatic: like a devout and mystic +worshipper, adoring, transported and mute; burning incense before a +shrine, a diaphanous shrine of a child-idol with closed eyes; before a +pure and vaporous shrine of a small god--fragile, powerless, unconscious +and sleeping. + +When Ali, roused by loud and repeated shouting of his name, stumbled +outside the door of his hut, he saw a narrow streak of trembling gold +above the forests and a pale sky with faded stars overhead: signs of the +coming day. His master stood before the door waving a piece of paper in +his hand and shouting excitedly--“Quick, Ali! Quick!” When he saw his +servant he rushed forward, and pressing the paper on him objurgated him, +in tones which induced Ali to think that something awful had happened, +to hurry up and get the whale-boat ready to go immediately--at once, +at once--after Captain Lingard. Ali remonstrated, agitated also, having +caught the infection of distracted haste. + +“If must go quick, better canoe. Whale-boat no can catch, same as small +canoe.” + +“No, no! Whale-boat! whale-boat! You dolt! you wretch!” howled Almayer, +with all the appearance of having gone mad. “Call the men! Get along +with it. Fly!” + +And Ali rushed about the courtyard kicking the doors of huts open to put +his head in and yell frightfully inside; and as he dashed from hovel +to hovel, men shivering and sleepy were coming out, looking after him +stupidly, while they scratched their ribs with bewildered apathy. It was +hard work to put them in motion. They wanted time to stretch themselves +and to shiver a little. Some wanted food. One said he was sick. Nobody +knew where the rudder was. Ali darted here and there, ordering, abusing, +pushing one, then another, and stopping in his exertions at times to +wring his hands hastily and groan, because the whale-boat was much +slower than the worst canoe and his master would not listen to his +protestations. + +Almayer saw the boat go off at last, pulled anyhow by men that were +cold, hungry, and sulky; and he remained on the jetty watching it down +the reach. It was broad day then, and the sky was perfectly cloudless. +Almayer went up to the house for a moment. His household was all astir +and wondering at the strange disappearance of the Sirani woman, who had +taken her child and had left her luggage. Almayer spoke to no one, got +his revolver, and went down to the river again. He jumped into a +small canoe and paddled himself towards the schooner. He worked very +leisurely, but as soon as he was nearly alongside he began to hail +the silent craft with the tone and appearance of a man in a tremendous +hurry. + +“Schooner ahoy! schooner ahoy!” he shouted. + +A row of blank faces popped up above the bulwark. After a while a man +with a woolly head of hair said-- + +“Sir!” + +“The mate! the mate! Call him, steward!” said Almayer, excitedly, making +a frantic grab at a rope thrown down to him by somebody. + +In less than a minute the mate put his head over. He asked, surprised-- + +“What can I do for you, Mr. Almayer?” + +“Let me have the gig at once, Mr. Swan--at once. I ask in Captain +Lingard’s name. I must have it. Matter of life and death.” + +The mate was impressed by Almayer’s agitation + +“You shall have it, sir. . . . Man the gig there! Bear a hand, serang! +. . . It’s hanging astern, Mr. Almayer,” he said, looking down again. +“Get into it, sir. The men are coming down by the painter.” + +By the time Almayer had clambered over into the stern sheets, four +calashes were in the boat and the oars were being passed over the +taffrail. The mate was looking on. Suddenly he said-- + +“Is it dangerous work? Do you want any help? I would come . . .” + +“Yes, yes!” cried Almayer. “Come along. Don’t lose a moment. Go and get +your revolver. Hurry up! hurry up!” + +Yet, notwithstanding his feverish anxiety to be off, he lolled back +very quiet and unconcerned till the mate got in and, passing over the +thwarts, sat down by his side. Then he seemed to wake up, and called +out-- + +“Let go--let go the painter!” + +“Let go the painter--the painter!” yelled the bowman, jerking at it. + +People on board also shouted “Let go!” to one another, till it occurred +at last to somebody to cast off the rope; and the boat drifted rapidly +away from the schooner in the sudden silencing of all voices. + +Almayer steered. The mate sat by his side, pushing the cartridges into +the chambers of his revolver. When the weapon was loaded he asked-- + +“What is it? Are you after somebody?” + +“Yes,” said Almayer, curtly, with his eyes fixed ahead on the river. “We +must catch a dangerous man.” + +“I like a bit of a chase myself,” declared the mate, and then, +discouraged by Almayer’s aspect of severe thoughtfulness, said nothing +more. + +Nearly an hour passed. The calashes stretched forward head first and lay +back with their faces to the sky, alternately, in a regular swing +that sent the boat flying through the water; and the two sitters, very +upright in the stern sheets, swayed rhythmically a little at every +stroke of the long oars plied vigorously. + +The mate observed: “The tide is with us.” + +“The current always runs down in this river,” said Almayer. + +“Yes--I know,” retorted the other; “but it runs faster on the ebb. Look +by the land at the way we get over the ground! A five-knot current here, +I should say.” + +“H’m!” growled Almayer. Then suddenly: “There is a passage between two +islands that will save us four miles. But at low water the two islands, +in the dry season, are like one with only a mud ditch between them. +Still, it’s worth trying.” + +“Ticklish job that, on a falling tide,” said the mate, coolly. “You know +best whether there’s time to get through.” + +“I will try,” said Almayer, watching the shore intently. “Look out now!” + +He tugged hard at the starboard yoke-line. + +“Lay in your oars!” shouted the mate. + +The boat swept round and shot through the narrow opening of a creek that +broadened out before the craft had time to lose its way. + +“Out oars! . . . Just room enough,” muttered the mate. + +It was a sombre creek of black water speckled with the gold of scattered +sunlight falling through the boughs that met overhead in a soaring, +restless arc full of gentle whispers passing, tremulous, aloft amongst +the thick leaves. The creepers climbed up the trunks of serried trees +that leaned over, looking insecure and undermined by floods which had +eaten away the earth from under their roots. And the pungent, acrid +smell of rotting leaves, of flowers, of blossoms and plants dying in +that poisonous and cruel gloom, where they pined for sunshine in vain, +seemed to lay heavy, to press upon the shiny and stagnant water in its +tortuous windings amongst the everlasting and invincible shadows. + +Almayer looked anxious. He steered badly. Several times the blades of +the oars got foul of the bushes on one side or the other, checking the +way of the gig. During one of those occurrences, while they were getting +clear, one of the calashes said something to the others in a rapid +whisper. They looked down at the water. So did the mate. + +“Hallo!” he exclaimed. “Eh, Mr. Almayer! Look! The water is running out. +See there! We will be caught.” + +“Back! back! We must go back!” cried Almayer. + +“Perhaps better go on.” + +“No; back! back!” + +He pulled at the steering line, and ran the nose of the boat into the +bank. Time was lost again in getting clear. + +“Give way, men! give way!” urged the mate, anxiously. + +The men pulled with set lips and dilated nostrils, breathing hard. + +“Too late,” said the mate, suddenly. “The oars touch the bottom already. +We are done.” + +The boat stuck. The men laid in the oars, and sat, panting, with crossed +arms. + +“Yes, we are caught,” said Almayer, composedly. “That is unlucky!” + +The water was falling round the boat. The mate watched the patches of +mud coming to the surface. Then in a moment he laughed, and pointing his +finger at the creek-- + +“Look!” he said; “the blamed river is running away from us. Here’s the +last drop of water clearing out round that bend.” + +Almayer lifted his head. The water was gone, and he looked only at a +curved track of mud--of mud soft and black, hiding fever, rottenness, +and evil under its level and glazed surface. + +“We are in for it till the evening,” he said, with cheerful resignation. +“I did my best. Couldn’t help it.” + +“We must sleep the day away,” said the mate. “There’s nothing to eat,” + he added, gloomily. + +Almayer stretched himself in the stern sheets. The Malays curled down +between thwarts. + +“Well, I’m jiggered!” said the mate, starting up after a long pause. +“I was in a devil of a hurry to go and pass the day stuck in the mud. +Here’s a holiday for you! Well! well!” + +They slept or sat unmoving and patient. As the sun mounted higher the +breeze died out, and perfect stillness reigned in the empty creek. A +troop of long-nosed monkeys appeared, and crowding on the outer boughs, +contemplated the boat and the motionless men in it with grave and +sorrowful intensity, disturbed now and then by irrational outbreaks of +mad gesticulation. A little bird with sapphire breast balanced a slender +twig across a slanting beam of light, and flashed in it to and fro like +a gem dropped from the sky. His minute round eye stared at the strange +and tranquil creatures in the boat. After a while he sent out a thin +twitter that sounded impertinent and funny in the solemn silence of the +great wilderness; in the great silence full of struggle and death. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +On Lingard’s departure solitude and silence closed round Willems; the +cruel solitude of one abandoned by men; the reproachful silence which +surrounds an outcast ejected by his kind, the silence unbroken by the +slightest whisper of hope; an immense and impenetrable silence that +swallows up without echo the murmur of regret and the cry of revolt. +The bitter peace of the abandoned clearings entered his heart, in which +nothing could live now but the memory and hate of his past. Not remorse. +In the breast of a man possessed by the masterful consciousness of +his individuality with its desires and its rights; by the immovable +conviction of his own importance, of an importance so indisputable and +final that it clothes all his wishes, endeavours, and mistakes with the +dignity of unavoidable fate, there could be no place for such a feeling +as that of remorse. + +The days passed. They passed unnoticed, unseen, in the rapid blaze of +glaring sunrises, in the short glow of tender sunsets, in the crushing +oppression of high noons without a cloud. How many days? Two--three--or +more? He did not know. To him, since Lingard had gone, the time seemed +to roll on in profound darkness. All was night within him. All was gone +from his sight. He walked about blindly in the deserted courtyards, +amongst the empty houses that, perched high on their posts, looked down +inimically on him, a white stranger, a man from other lands; seemed +to look hostile and mute out of all the memories of native life that +lingered between their decaying walls. His wandering feet stumbled +against the blackened brands of extinct fires, kicking up a light black +dust of cold ashes that flew in drifting clouds and settled to leeward +on the fresh grass sprouting from the hard ground, between the shade +trees. He moved on, and on; ceaseless, unresting, in widening circles, +in zigzagging paths that led to no issue; he struggled on wearily with +a set, distressed face behind which, in his tired brain, seethed his +thoughts: restless, sombre, tangled, chilling, horrible and venomous, +like a nestful of snakes. + +From afar, the bleared eyes of the old serving woman, the sombre gaze +of Aissa followed the gaunt and tottering figure in its unceasing prowl +along the fences, between the houses, amongst the wild luxuriance of +riverside thickets. Those three human beings abandoned by all were +like shipwrecked people left on an insecure and slippery ledge by the +retiring tide of an angry sea--listening to its distant roar, living +anguished between the menace of its return and the hopeless horror of +their solitude--in the midst of a tempest of passion, of regret, of +disgust, of despair. The breath of the storm had cast two of them there, +robbed of everything--even of resignation. The third, the decrepit +witness of their struggle and their torture, accepted her own dull +conception of facts; of strength and youth gone; of her useless old +age; of her last servitude; of being thrown away by her chief, by her +nearest, to use up the last and worthless remnant of flickering life +between those two incomprehensible and sombre outcasts: a shrivelled, an +unmoved, a passive companion of their disaster. + +To the river Willems turned his eyes like a captive that looks fixedly +at the door of his cell. If there was any hope in the world it would +come from the river, by the river. For hours together he would stand in +sunlight while the sea breeze sweeping over the lonely reach fluttered +his ragged garments; the keen salt breeze that made him shiver now +and then under the flood of intense heat. He looked at the brown and +sparkling solitude of the flowing water, of the water flowing ceaseless +and free in a soft, cool murmur of ripples at his feet. The world seemed +to end there. The forests of the other bank appeared unattainable, +enigmatical, for ever beyond reach like the stars of heaven--and as +indifferent. Above and below, the forests on his side of the river came +down to the water in a serried multitude of tall, immense trees towering +in a great spread of twisted boughs above the thick undergrowth; great, +solid trees, looking sombre, severe, and malevolently stolid, like a +giant crowd of pitiless enemies pressing round silently to witness +his slow agony. He was alone, small, crushed. He thought of escape--of +something to be done. What? A raft! He imagined himself working at it, +feverishly, desperately; cutting down trees, fastening the logs together +and then drifting down with the current, down to the sea into the +straits. There were ships there--ships, help, white men. Men like +himself. Good men who would rescue him, take him away, take him far away +where there was trade, and houses, and other men that could understand +him exactly, appreciate his capabilities; where there was proper food, +and money; where there were beds, knives, forks, carriages, brass bands, +cool drinks, churches with well-dressed people praying in them. He would +pray also. The superior land of refined delights where he could sit on +a chair, eat his tiffin off a white tablecloth, nod to fellows--good +fellows; he would be popular; always was--where he could be virtuous, +correct, do business, draw a salary, smoke cigars, buy things in +shops--have boots . . . be happy, free, become rich. O God! What was +wanted? Cut down a few trees. No! One would do. They used to make canoes +by burning out a tree trunk, he had heard. Yes! One would do. One tree +to cut down . . . He rushed forward, and suddenly stood still as if +rooted in the ground. He had a pocket-knife. + +And he would throw himself down on the ground by the riverside. He +was tired, exhausted; as if that raft had been made, the voyage +accomplished, the fortune attained. A glaze came over his staring eyes, +over his eyes that gazed hopelessly at the rising river where big logs +and uprooted trees drifted in the shine of mid-stream: a long procession +of black and ragged specks. He could swim out and drift away on one of +these trees. Anything to escape! Anything! Any risk! He could fasten +himself up between the dead branches. He was torn by desire, by fear; +his heart was wrung by the faltering of his courage. He turned over, +face downwards, his head on his arms. He had a terrible vision of +shadowless horizons where the blue sky and the blue sea met; or a +circular and blazing emptiness where a dead tree and a dead man drifted +together, endlessly, up and down, upon the brilliant undulations of the +straits. No ships there. Only death. And the river led to it. + +He sat up with a profound groan. + +Yes, death. Why should he die? No! Better solitude, better hopeless +waiting, alone. Alone. No! he was not alone, he saw death looking at him +from everywhere; from the bushes, from the clouds--he heard her speaking +to him in the murmur of the river, filling the space, touching his +heart, his brain with a cold hand. He could see and think of nothing +else. He saw it--the sure death--everywhere. He saw it so close that +he was always on the point of throwing out his arms to keep it off. It +poisoned all he saw, all he did; the miserable food he ate, the muddy +water he drank; it gave a frightful aspect to sunrises and sunsets, to +the brightness of hot noon, to the cooling shadows of the evenings. He +saw the horrible form among the big trees, in the network of creepers +in the fantastic outlines of leaves, of the great indented leaves that +seemed to be so many enormous hands with big broad palms, with stiff +fingers outspread to lay hold of him; hands gently stirring, or hands +arrested in a frightful immobility, with a stillness attentive and +watching for the opportunity to take him, to enlace him, to strangle +him, to hold him till he died; hands that would hold him dead, that +would never let go, that would cling to his body for ever till it +perished--disappeared in their frantic and tenacious grasp. + +And yet the world was full of life. All the things, all the men he knew, +existed, moved, breathed; and he saw them in a long perspective, far +off, diminished, distinct, desirable, unattainable, precious . . . lost +for ever. Round him, ceaselessly, there went on without a sound the mad +turmoil of tropical life. After he had died all this would remain! He +wanted to clasp, to embrace solid things; he had an immense craving for +sensations; for touching, pressing, seeing, handling, holding on, to +all these things. All this would remain--remain for years, for ages, for +ever. After he had miserably died there, all this would remain, would +live, would exist in joyous sunlight, would breathe in the coolness of +serene nights. What for, then? He would be dead. He would be stretched +upon the warm moisture of the ground, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, +knowing nothing; he would lie stiff, passive, rotting slowly; while over +him, under him, through him--unopposed, busy, hurried--the endless and +minute throngs of insects, little shining monsters of repulsive shapes, +with horns, with claws, with pincers, would swarm in streams, in rushes, +in eager struggle for his body; would swarm countless, persistent, +ferocious and greedy--till there would remain nothing but the white +gleam of bleaching bones in the long grass; in the long grass that would +shoot its feathery heads between the bare and polished ribs. There would +be that only left of him; nobody would miss him; no one would remember +him. + +Nonsense! It could not be. There were ways out of this. Somebody would +turn up. Some human beings would come. He would speak, entreat--use +force to extort help from them. He felt strong; he was very strong. He +would . . . The discouragement, the conviction of the futility of his +hopes would return in an acute sensation of pain in his heart. He would +begin again his aimless wanderings. He tramped till he was ready to +drop, without being able to calm by bodily fatigue the trouble of his +soul. There was no rest, no peace within the cleared grounds of his +prison. There was no relief but in the black release of sleep, of sleep +without memory and without dreams; in the sleep coming brutal and heavy, +like the lead that kills. To forget in annihilating sleep; to tumble +headlong, as if stunned, out of daylight into the night of oblivion, was +for him the only, the rare respite from this existence which he lacked +the courage to endure--or to end. + +He lived, he struggled with the inarticulate delirium of his thoughts +under the eyes of the silent Aissa. She shared his torment in the +poignant wonder, in the acute longing, in the despairing inability to +understand the cause of his anger and of his repulsion; the hate of +his looks; the mystery of his silence; the menace of his rare words--of +those words in the speech of white people that were thrown at her with +rage, with contempt, with the evident desire to hurt her; to hurt her +who had given herself, her life--all she had to give--to that white man; +to hurt her who had wanted to show him the way to true greatness, who +had tried to help him, in her woman’s dream of everlasting, enduring, +unchangeable affection. From the short contact with the whites in the +crashing collapse of her old life, there remained with her the imposing +idea of irresistible power and of ruthless strength. She had found a man +of their race--and with all their qualities. All whites are alike. But +this man’s heart was full of anger against his own people, full of anger +existing there by the side of his desire of her. And to her it had been +an intoxication of hope for great things born in the proud and tender +consciousness of her influence. She had heard the passing whisper of +wonder and fear in the presence of his hesitation, of his resistance, +of his compromises; and yet with a woman’s belief in the durable +steadfastness of hearts, in the irresistible charm of her own +personality, she had pushed him forward, trusting the future, blindly, +hopefully; sure to attain by his side the ardent desire of her life, if +she could only push him far beyond the possibility of retreat. She did +not know, and could not conceive, anything of his--so exalted--ideals. +She thought the man a warrior and a chief, ready for battle, violence, +and treachery to his own people--for her. What more natural? Was he not +a great, strong man? Those two, surrounded each by the impenetrable +wall of their aspirations, were hopelessly alone, out of sight, out +of earshot of each other; each the centre of dissimilar and distant +horizons; standing each on a different earth, under a different sky. +She remembered his words, his eyes, his trembling lips, his outstretched +hands; she remembered the great, the immeasurable sweetness of her +surrender, that beginning of her power which was to last until death. He +remembered the quaysides and the warehouses; the excitement of a life in +a whirl of silver coins; the glorious uncertainty of a money hunt; his +numerous successes, the lost possibilities of wealth and consequent +glory. She, a woman, was the victim of her heart, of her woman’s belief +that there is nothing in the world but love--the everlasting thing. +He was the victim of his strange principles, of his continence, of his +blind belief in himself, of his solemn veneration for the voice of his +boundless ignorance. + +In a moment of his idleness, of suspense, of discouragement, she had +come--that creature--and by the touch of her hand had destroyed his +future, his dignity of a clever and civilized man; had awakened in his +breast the infamous thing which had driven him to what he had done, and +to end miserably in the wilderness and be forgotten, or else remembered +with hate or contempt. He dared not look at her, because now whenever +he looked at her his thought seemed to touch crime, like an outstretched +hand. She could only look at him--and at nothing else. What else was +there? She followed him with a timorous gaze, with a gaze for ever +expecting, patient, and entreating. And in her eyes there was the wonder +and desolation of an animal that knows only suffering, of the incomplete +soul that knows pain but knows not hope; that can find no refuge from +the facts of life in the illusory conviction of its dignity, of an +exalted destiny beyond; in the heavenly consolation of a belief in the +momentous origin of its hate. + +For the first three days after Lingard went away he would not even +speak to her. She preferred his silence to the sound of hated and +incomprehensible words he had been lately addressing to her with a wild +violence of manner, passing at once into complete apathy. And during +these three days he hardly ever left the river, as if on that muddy bank +he had felt himself nearer to his freedom. He would stay late; he would +stay till sunset; he would look at the glow of gold passing away amongst +sombre clouds in a bright red flush, like a splash of warm blood. It +seemed to him ominous and ghastly with a foreboding of violent death +that beckoned him from everywhere--even from the sky. + +One evening he remained by the riverside long after sunset, regardless +of the night mist that had closed round him, had wrapped him up and +clung to him like a wet winding-sheet. A slight shiver recalled him to +his senses, and he walked up the courtyard towards his house. Aissa rose +from before the fire, that glimmered red through its own smoke, which +hung thickening under the boughs of the big tree. She approached him +from the side as he neared the plankway of the house. He saw her stop to +let him begin his ascent. In the darkness her figure was like the shadow +of a woman with clasped hands put out beseechingly. He stopped--could +not help glancing at her. In all the sombre gracefulness of the straight +figure, her limbs, features--all was indistinct and vague but the gleam +of her eyes in the faint starlight. He turned his head away and moved +on. He could feel her footsteps behind him on the bending planks, but he +walked up without turning his head. He knew what she wanted. She wanted +to come in there. He shuddered at the thought of what might happen in +the impenetrable darkness of that house if they were to find themselves +alone--even for a moment. He stopped in the doorway, and heard her say-- + +“Let me come in. Why this anger? Why this silence? . . . Let me watch +. . . by your side. . . . Have I not watched faithfully? Did harm ever +come to you when you closed your eyes while I was by? . . . I have +waited . .. I have waited for your smile, for your words . . . I can +wait no more.. . . Look at me . . . speak to me. Is there a bad spirit +in you? A bad spirit that has eaten up your courage and your love? Let +me touch you. Forget all . . . All. Forget the wicked hearts, the angry +faces . . . and remember only the day I came to you . . . to you! O my +heart! O my life!” + +The pleading sadness of her appeal filled the space with the tremor of +her low tones, that carried tenderness and tears into the great peace +of the sleeping world. All around them the forests, the clearings, the +river, covered by the silent veil of night, seemed to wake up and listen +to her words in attentive stillness. After the sound of her voice had +died out in a stifled sigh they appeared to listen yet; and nothing +stirred among the shapeless shadows but the innumerable fireflies +that twinkled in changing clusters, in gliding pairs, in wandering and +solitary points--like the glimmering drift of scattered star-dust. + +Willems turned round slowly, reluctantly, as if compelled by main force. +Her face was hidden in her hands, and he looked above her bent head, +into the sombre brilliance of the night. It was one of those nights that +give the impression of extreme vastness, when the sky seems higher, when +the passing puffs of tepid breeze seem to bring with them faint whispers +from beyond the stars. The air was full of sweet scent, of the scent +charming, penetrating and violent like the impulse of love. He looked +into that great dark place odorous with the breath of life, with the +mystery of existence, renewed, fecund, indestructible; and he felt +afraid of his solitude, of the solitude of his body, of the loneliness +of his soul in the presence of this unconscious and ardent struggle, +of this lofty indifference, of this merciless and mysterious purpose, +perpetuating strife and death through the march of ages. For the second +time in his life he felt, in a sudden sense of his significance, the +need to send a cry for help into the wilderness, and for the second time +he realized the hopelessness of its unconcern. He could shout for help +on every side--and nobody would answer. He could stretch out his hands, +he could call for aid, for support, for sympathy, for relief--and nobody +would come. Nobody. There was no one there--but that woman. + +His heart was moved, softened with pity at his own abandonment. His +anger against her, against her who was the cause of all his misfortunes, +vanished before his extreme need for some kind of consolation. +Perhaps--if he must resign himself to his fate--she might help him to +forget. To forget! For a moment, in an access of despair so profound +that it seemed like the beginning of peace, he planned the deliberate +descent from his pedestal, the throwing away of his superiority, of +all his hopes, of old ambitions, of the ungrateful civilization. For +a moment, forgetfulness in her arms seemed possible; and lured by that +possibility the semblance of renewed desire possessed his breast in a +burst of reckless contempt for everything outside himself--in a savage +disdain of Earth and of Heaven. He said to himself that he would not +repent. The punishment for his only sin was too heavy. There was no +mercy under Heaven. He did not want any. He thought, desperately, that +if he could find with her again the madness of the past, the strange +delirium that had changed him, that had worked his undoing, he would be +ready to pay for it with an eternity of perdition. He was intoxicated by +the subtle perfumes of the night; he was carried away by the suggestive +stir of the warm breeze; he was possessed by the exaltation of the +solitude, of the silence, of his memories, in the presence of that +figure offering herself in a submissive and patient devotion; coming to +him in the name of the past, in the name of those days when he could see +nothing, think of nothing, desire nothing--but her embrace. + +He took her suddenly in his arms, and she clasped her hands round his +neck with a low cry of joy and surprise. He took her in his arms and +waited for the transport, for the madness, for the sensations remembered +and lost; and while she sobbed gently on his breast he held her and felt +cold, sick, tired, exasperated with his failure--and ended by cursing +himself. She clung to him trembling with the intensity of her +happiness and her love. He heard her whispering--her face hidden on his +shoulder--of past sorrow, of coming joy that would last for ever; of her +unshaken belief in his love. She had always believed. Always! Even while +his face was turned away from her in the dark days while his mind was +wandering in his own land, amongst his own people. But it would never +wander away from her any more, now it had come back. He would forget the +cold faces and the hard hearts of the cruel people. What was there to +remember? Nothing? Was it not so? . . . + +He listened hopelessly to the faint murmur. He stood still and rigid, +pressing her mechanically to his breast while he thought that there was +nothing for him in the world. He was robbed of everything; robbed of +his passion, of his liberty, of forgetfulness, of consolation. She, wild +with delight, whispered on rapidly, of love, of light, of peace, of +long years. . . . He looked drearily above her head down into the deeper +gloom of the courtyard. And, all at once, it seemed to him that he was +peering into a sombre hollow, into a deep black hole full of decay +and of whitened bones; into an immense and inevitable grave full of +corruption where sooner or later he must, unavoidably, fall. + +In the morning he came out early, and stood for a time in the doorway, +listening to the light breathing behind him--in the house. She slept. He +had not closed his eyes through all that night. He stood swaying--then +leaned against the lintel of the door. He was exhausted, done up; +fancied himself hardly alive. He had a disgusted horror of himself that, +as he looked at the level sea of mist at his feet, faded quickly into +dull indifference. It was like a sudden and final decrepitude of his +senses, of his body, of his thoughts. Standing on the high platform, he +looked over the expanse of low night fog above which, here and there, +stood out the feathery heads of tall bamboo clumps and the round tops +of single trees, resembling small islets emerging black and solid from a +ghostly and impalpable sea. Upon the faintly luminous background of the +eastern sky, the sombre line of the great forests bounded that smooth +sea of white vapours with an appearance of a fantastic and unattainable +shore. + +He looked without seeing anything--thinking of himself. Before his eyes +the light of the rising sun burst above the forest with the suddenness +of an explosion. He saw nothing. Then, after a time, he murmured +with conviction--speaking half aloud to himself in the shock of the +penetrating thought: + +“I am a lost man.” + +He shook his hand above his head in a gesture careless and tragic, then +walked down into the mist that closed above him in shining undulations +under the first breath of the morning breeze. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +Willems moved languidly towards the river, then retraced his steps to +the tree and let himself fall on the seat under its shade. On the other +side of the immense trunk he could hear the old woman moving about, +sighing loudly, muttering to herself, snapping dry sticks, blowing up +the fire. After a while a whiff of smoke drifted round to where he sat. +It made him feel hungry, and that feeling was like a new indignity added +to an intolerable load of humiliations. He felt inclined to cry. He felt +very weak. He held up his arm before his eyes and watched for a little +while the trembling of the lean limb. Skin and bone, by God! How thin +he was! . . . He had suffered from fever a good deal, and now he thought +with tearful dismay that Lingard, although he had sent him food--and +what food, great Lord: a little rice and dried fish; quite unfit for a +white man--had not sent him any medicine. Did the old savage think that +he was like the wild beasts that are never ill? He wanted quinine. + +He leaned the back of his head against the tree and closed his eyes. +He thought feebly that if he could get hold of Lingard he would like +to flay him alive; but it was only a blurred, a short and a passing +thought. His imagination, exhausted by the repeated delineations of his +own fate, had not enough strength left to grip the idea of revenge. +He was not indignant and rebellious. He was cowed. He was cowed by +the immense cataclysm of his disaster. Like most men, he had carried +solemnly within his breast the whole universe, and the approaching end +of all things in the destruction of his own personality filled him +with paralyzing awe. Everything was toppling over. He blinked his eyes +quickly, and it seemed to him that the very sunshine of the morning +disclosed in its brightness a suggestion of some hidden and sinister +meaning. In his unreasoning fear he tried to hide within himself. He +drew his feet up, his head sank between his shoulders, his arms hugged +his sides. Under the high and enormous tree soaring superbly out of the +mist in a vigorous spread of lofty boughs, with a restless and eager +flutter of its innumerable leaves in the clear sunshine, he remained +motionless, huddled up on his seat: terrified and still. + +Willems’ gaze roamed over the ground, and then he watched with idiotic +fixity half a dozen black ants entering courageously a tuft of long +grass which, to them, must have appeared a dark and a dangerous jungle. +Suddenly he thought: There must be something dead in there. Some dead +insect. Death everywhere! He closed his eyes again in an access of +trembling pain. Death everywhere--wherever one looks. He did not want to +see the ants. He did not want to see anybody or anything. He sat in the +darkness of his own making, reflecting bitterly that there was no peace +for him. He heard voices now. . . . Illusion! Misery! Torment! Who would +come? Who would speak to him? What business had he to hear voices? . . . +yet he heard them faintly, from the river. Faintly, as if shouted far +off over there, came the words “We come back soon.” . . . Delirium and +mockery! Who would come back? Nobody ever comes back! Fever comes back. +He had it on him this morning. That was it. . . . He heard unexpectedly +the old woman muttering something near by. She had come round to his +side of the tree. He opened his eyes and saw her bent back before +him. She stood, with her hand shading her eyes, looking towards the +landing-place. Then she glided away. She had seen--and now she was going +back to her cooking; a woman incurious; expecting nothing; without fear +and without hope. + +She had gone back behind the tree, and now Willems could see a human +figure on the path to the landing-place. It appeared to him to be a +woman, in a red gown, holding some heavy bundle in her arms; it was an +apparition unexpected, familiar and odd. He cursed through his teeth +. . . It had wanted only this! See things like that in broad daylight! +He was very bad--very bad. . . . He was horribly scared at this awful +symptom of the desperate state of his health. + +This scare lasted for the space of a flash of lightning, and in the +next moment it was revealed to him that the woman was real; that she was +coming towards him; that she was his wife! He put his feet down to the +ground quickly, but made no other movement. His eyes opened wide. He was +so amazed that for a time he absolutely forgot his own existence. The +only idea in his head was: Why on earth did she come here? + +Joanna was coming up the courtyard with eager, hurried steps. She +carried in her arms the child, wrapped up in one of Almayer’s white +blankets that she had snatched off the bed at the last moment, before +leaving the house. She seemed to be dazed by the sun in her eyes; +bewildered by her strange surroundings. She moved on, looking quickly +right and left in impatient expectation of seeing her husband at any +moment. Then, approaching the tree, she perceived suddenly a kind of a +dried-up, yellow corpse, sitting very stiff on a bench in the shade and +looking at her with big eyes that were alive. That was her husband. + +She stopped dead short. They stared at one another in profound +stillness, with astounded eyes, with eyes maddened by the memories +of things far off that seemed lost in the lapse of time. Their looks +crossed, passed each other, and appeared to dart at them through +fantastic distances, to come straight from the incredible. + +Looking at him steadily she came nearer, and deposited the blanket with +the child in it on the bench. Little Louis, after howling with terror in +the darkness of the river most of the night, now slept soundly and did +not wake. Willems’ eyes followed his wife, his head turning slowly after +her. He accepted her presence there with a tired acquiescence in its +fabulous improbability. Anything might happen. What did she come for? +She was part of the general scheme of his misfortune. He half expected +that she would rush at him, pull his hair, and scratch his face. Why +not? Anything might happen! In an exaggerated sense of his great bodily +weakness he felt somewhat apprehensive of possible assault. At any rate, +she would scream at him. He knew her of old. She could screech. He had +thought that he was rid of her for ever. She came now probably to see +the end. . . . + +Suddenly she turned, and embracing him slid gently to the ground. + +This startled him. With her forehead on his knees she sobbed +noiselessly. He looked down dismally at the top of her head. What was +she up to? He had not the strength to move--to get away. He heard +her whispering something, and bent over to listen. He caught the word +“Forgive.” + +That was what she came for! All that way. Women are queer. Forgive. Not +he! . . . All at once this thought darted through his brain: How did she +come? In a boat. Boat! boat! + +He shouted “Boat!” and jumped up, knocking her over. Before she had time +to pick herself up he pounced upon her and was dragging her up by the +shoulders. No sooner had she regained her feet than she clasped him +tightly round the neck, covering his face, his eyes, his mouth, his +nose with desperate kisses. He dodged his head about, shaking her arms, +trying to keep her off, to speak, to ask her. . . . She came in a +boat, boat, boat! . . . They struggled and swung round, tramping in a +semicircle. He blurted out, “Leave off. Listen,” while he tore at her +hands. This meeting of lawful love and sincere joy resembled fight. +Louis Willems slept peacefully under his blanket. + +At last Willems managed to free himself, and held her off, pressing +her arms down. He looked at her. He had half a suspicion that he was +dreaming. Her lips trembled; her eyes wandered unsteadily, always coming +back to his face. He saw her the same as ever, in his presence. She +appeared startled, tremulous, ready to cry. She did not inspire him with +confidence. He shouted-- + +“How did you come?” + +She answered in hurried words, looking at him intently-- + +“In a big canoe with three men. I know everything. Lingard’s away. I +come to save you. I know. . . . Almayer told me.” + +“Canoe!--Almayer--Lies. Told you--You!” stammered Willems in a +distracted manner. “Why you?--Told what?” + +Words failed him. He stared at his wife, thinking with fear that +she--stupid woman--had been made a tool in some plan of treachery . . . +in some deadly plot. + +She began to cry-- + +“Don’t look at me like that, Peter. What have I done? I come to beg--to +beg--forgiveness. . . . Save--Lingard--danger.” + +He trembled with impatience, with hope, with fear. She looked at him and +sobbed out in a fresh outburst of grief-- + +“Oh! Peter. What’s the matter?--Are you ill? . . . Oh! you look so +ill . . .” + +He shook her violently into a terrified and wondering silence. + +“How dare you!--I am well--perfectly well. . . . Where’s that boat? Will +you tell me where that boat is--at last? The boat, I say . . . +You! . . .” + +“You hurt me,” she moaned. + +He let her go, and, mastering her terror, she stood quivering and +looking at him with strange intensity. Then she made a movement forward, +but he lifted his finger, and she restrained herself with a long sigh. +He calmed down suddenly and surveyed her with cold criticism, with the +same appearance as when, in the old days, he used to find fault with the +household expenses. She found a kind of fearful delight in this abrupt +return into the past, into her old subjection. + +He stood outwardly collected now, and listened to her disconnected +story. Her words seemed to fall round him with the distracting clatter +of stunning hail. He caught the meaning here and there, and straightway +would lose himself in a tremendous effort to shape out some intelligible +theory of events. There was a boat. A boat. A big boat that could take +him to sea if necessary. That much was clear. She brought it. Why did +Almayer lie to her so? Was it a plan to decoy him into some ambush? +Better that than hopeless solitude. She had money. The men were ready to +go anywhere . . . she said. + +He interrupted her-- + +“Where are they now?” + +“They are coming directly,” she answered, tearfully. “Directly. There +are some fishing stakes near here--they said. They are coming directly.” + +Again she was talking and sobbing together. She wanted to be forgiven. +Forgiven? What for? Ah! the scene in Macassar. As if he had time to +think of that! What did he care what she had done months ago? He seemed +to struggle in the toils of complicated dreams where everything was +impossible, yet a matter of course, where the past took the aspects of +the future and the present lay heavy on his heart--seemed to take him by +the throat like the hand of an enemy. And while she begged, entreated, +kissed his hands, wept on his shoulder, adjured him in the name of God, +to forgive, to forget, to speak the word for which she longed, to look +at his boy, to believe in her sorrow and in her devotion--his eyes, in +the fascinated immobility of shining pupils, looked far away, far beyond +her, beyond the river, beyond this land, through days, weeks, months; +looked into liberty, into the future, into his triumph . . . into the +great possibility of a startling revenge. + +He felt a sudden desire to dance and shout. He shouted-- + +“After all, we shall meet again, Captain Lingard.” + +“Oh, no! No!” she cried, joining her hands. + +He looked at her with surprise. He had forgotten she was there till the +break of her cry in the monotonous tones of her prayer recalled him +into that courtyard from the glorious turmoil of his dreams. It was very +strange to see her there--near him. He felt almost affectionate towards +her. After all, she came just in time. Then he thought: That other one. +I must get away without a scene. Who knows; she may be dangerous! . . . +And all at once he felt he hated Aissa with an immense hatred that +seemed to choke him. He said to his wife-- + +“Wait a moment.” + +She, obedient, seemed to gulp down some words which wanted to come out. +He muttered: “Stay here,” and disappeared round the tree. + +The water in the iron pan on the cooking fire boiled furiously, belching +out volumes of white steam that mixed with the thin black thread of +smoke. The old woman appeared to him through this as if in a fog, +squatting on her heels, impassive and weird. + +Willems came up near and asked, “Where is she?” + +The woman did not even lift her head, but answered at once, readily, as +though she had expected the question for a long time. + +“While you were asleep under the tree, before the strange canoe came, +she went out of the house. I saw her look at you and pass on with a +great light in her eyes. A great light. And she went towards the place +where our master Lakamba had his fruit trees. When we were many here. +Many, many. Men with arms by their side. Many . . . men. And talk . . . +and songs . . .” + +She went on like that, raving gently to herself for a long time after +Willems had left her. + +Willems went back to his wife. He came up close to her and found he had +nothing to say. Now all his faculties were concentrated upon his wish to +avoid Aissa. She might stay all the morning in that grove. Why did those +rascally boatmen go? He had a physical repugnance to set eyes on her. +And somewhere, at the very bottom of his heart, there was a fear of her. +Why? What could she do? Nothing on earth could stop him now. He felt +strong, reckless, pitiless, and superior to everything. He wanted to +preserve before his wife the lofty purity of his character. He thought: +She does not know. Almayer held his tongue about Aissa. But if she finds +out, I am lost. If it hadn’t been for the boy I would . . . free of both +of them. . . . The idea darted through his head. Not he! Married. . . . +Swore solemnly. No . . . sacred tie. . . . Looking on his wife, he felt +for the first time in his life something approaching remorse. Remorse, +arising from his conception of the awful nature of an oath before the +altar. . . . She mustn’t find out. . . . Oh, for that boat! He must run +in and get his revolver. Couldn’t think of trusting himself unarmed with +those Bajow fellows. Get it now while she is away. Oh, for that boat! +. . . He dared not go to the river and hail. He thought: She might hear +me. . . . I’ll go and get . . . cartridges . . . then will be all ready +. . . nothing else. No. + +And while he stood meditating profoundly before he could make up his +mind to run to the house, Joanna pleaded, holding to his arm--pleaded +despairingly, broken-hearted, hopeless whenever she glanced up at his +face, which to her seemed to wear the aspect of unforgiving +rectitude, of virtuous severity, of merciless justice. And she pleaded +humbly--abashed before him, before the unmoved appearance of the man she +had wronged in defiance of human and divine laws. He heard not a word of +what she said till she raised her voice in a final appeal-- + +“. . . Don’t you see I loved you always? They told me horrible things +about you. . . . My own mother! They told me--you have been--you have +been unfaithful to me, and I . . .” + +“It’s a damned lie!” shouted Willems, waking up for a moment into +righteous indignation. + +“I know! I know--Be generous.--Think of my misery since you went +away--Oh! I could have torn my tongue out. . . . I will never believe +anybody--Look at the boy--Be merciful--I could never rest till I found +you. . . . Say--a word--one word. . .” + +“What the devil do you want?” exclaimed Willems, looking towards the +river. “Where’s that damned boat? Why did you let them go away? You +stupid!” + +“Oh, Peter!--I know that in your heart you have forgiven me--You are so +generous--I want to hear you say so. . . . Tell me--do you?” + +“Yes! yes!” said Willems, impatiently. “I forgive you. Don’t be a fool.” + +“Don’t go away. Don’t leave me alone here. Where is the danger? I am so +frightened. . . . Are you alone here? Sure? . . . Let us go away!” + +“That’s sense,” said Willems, still looking anxiously towards the river. + +She sobbed gently, leaning on his arm. + +“Let me go,” he said. + +He had seen above the steep bank the heads of three men glide along +smoothly. Then, where the shore shelved down to the landing-place, +appeared a big canoe which came slowly to land. + +“Here they are,” he went on, briskly. “I must get my revolver.” + +He made a few hurried paces towards the house, but seemed to catch sight +of something, turned short round and came back to his wife. She stared +at him, alarmed by the sudden change in his face. He appeared much +discomposed. He stammered a little as he began to speak. + +“Take the child. Walk down to the boat and tell them to drop it out of +sight, quick, behind the bushes. Do you hear? Quick! I will come to you +there directly. Hurry up!” + +“Peter! What is it? I won’t leave you. There is some danger in this +horrible place.” + +“Will you do what I tell you?” said Willems, in an irritable whisper. + +“No! no! no! I won’t leave you. I will not lose you again. Tell me, what +is it?” + +From beyond the house came a faint voice singing. Willems shook his wife +by the shoulder. + +“Do what I tell you! Run at once!” + +She gripped his arm and clung to him desperately. He looked up to heaven +as if taking it to witness of that woman’s infernal folly. + +The song grew louder, then ceased suddenly, and Aissa appeared in sight, +walking slowly, her hands full of flowers. + +She had turned the corner of the house, coming out into the full +sunshine, and the light seemed to leap upon her in a stream brilliant, +tender, and caressing, as if attracted by the radiant happiness of her +face. She had dressed herself for a festive day, for the memorable day +of his return to her, of his return to an affection that would last for +ever. The rays of the morning sun were caught by the oval clasp of the +embroidered belt that held the silk sarong round her waist. The dazzling +white stuff of her body jacket was crossed by a bar of yellow and silver +of her scarf, and in the black hair twisted high on her small head +shone the round balls of gold pins amongst crimson blossoms and white +star-shaped flowers, with which she had crowned herself to charm his +eyes; those eyes that were henceforth to see nothing in the world but +her own resplendent image. And she moved slowly, bending her face over +the mass of pure white champakas and jasmine pressed to her breast, in a +dreamy intoxication of sweet scents and of sweeter hopes. + +She did not seem to see anything, stopped for a moment at the foot of +the plankway leading to the house, then, leaving her high-heeled wooden +sandals there, ascended the planks in a light run; straight, graceful, +flexible, and noiseless, as if she had soared up to the door on +invisible wings. Willems pushed his wife roughly behind the tree, and +made up his mind quickly for a rush to the house, to grab his revolver +and . . . Thoughts, doubts, expedients seemed to boil in his brain. He +had a flashing vision of delivering a stunning blow, of tying up that +flower bedecked woman in the dark house--a vision of things done swiftly +with enraged haste--to save his prestige, his superiority--something of +immense importance. . . . He had not made two steps when Joanna bounded +after him, caught the back of his ragged jacket, tore out a big piece, +and instantly hooked herself with both hands to the collar, nearly +dragging him down on his back. Although taken by surprise, he managed to +keep his feet. From behind she panted into his ear-- + +“That woman! Who’s that woman? Ah! that’s what those boatmen were +talking about. I heard them . . . heard them . . . heard . . . in the +night. They spoke about some woman. I dared not understand. I would not +ask . . . listen . . . believe! How could I? Then it’s true. No. Say no. +. . . Who’s that woman?” + +He swayed, tugging forward. She jerked at him till the button gave way, +and then he slipped half out of his jacket and, turning round, remained +strangely motionless. His heart seemed to beat in his throat. He +choked--tried to speak--could not find any words. He thought with fury: +I will kill both of them. + +For a second nothing moved about the courtyard in the great vivid +clearness of the day. Only down by the landing-place a waringan-tree, +all in a blaze of clustering red berries, seemed alive with the stir of +little birds that filled with the feverish flutter of their feathers +the tangle of overloaded branches. Suddenly the variegated flock rose +spinning in a soft whirr and dispersed, slashing the sunlit haze with +the sharp outlines of stiffened wings. Mahmat and one of his brothers +appeared coming up from the landing-place, their lances in their hands, +to look for their passengers. + +Aissa coming now empty-handed out of the house, caught sight of the two +armed men. In her surprise she emitted a faint cry, vanished back and in +a flash reappeared in the doorway with Willems’ revolver in her hand. +To her the presence of any man there could only have an ominous meaning. +There was nothing in the outer world but enemies. She and the man she +loved were alone, with nothing round them but menacing dangers. She did +not mind that, for if death came, no matter from what hand, they would +die together. + +Her resolute eyes took in the courtyard in a circular glance. She +noticed that the two strangers had ceased to advance and now were +standing close together leaning on the polished shafts of their weapons. +The next moment she saw Willems, with his back towards her, apparently +struggling under the tree with some one. She saw nothing distinctly, +and, unhesitating, flew down the plankway calling out: “I come!” + +He heard her cry, and with an unexpected rush drove his wife backwards +to the seat. She fell on it; he jerked himself altogether out of his +jacket, and she covered her face with the soiled rags. He put his lips +close to her, asking-- + +“For the last time, will you take the child and go?” + +She groaned behind the unclean ruins of his upper garment. She mumbled +something. He bent lower to hear. She was saying-- + +“I won’t. Order that woman away. I can’t look at her!” + +“You fool!” + +He seemed to spit the words at her, then, making up his mind, spun round +to face Aissa. She was coming towards them slowly now, with a look of +unbounded amazement on her face. Then she stopped and stared at him--who +stood there, stripped to the waist, bare-headed and sombre. + +Some way off, Mahmat and his brother exchanged rapid words in calm +undertones. . . . This was the strong daughter of the holy man who had +died. The white man is very tall. There would be three women and the +child to take in the boat, besides that white man who had the money +. . . . The brother went away back to the boat, and Mahmat remained +looking on. He stood like a sentinel, the leaf-shaped blade of his +lance glinting above his head. + +Willems spoke suddenly. + +“Give me this,” he said, stretching his hand towards the revolver. + +Aissa stepped back. Her lips trembled. She said very low: “Your people?” + +He nodded slightly. She shook her head thoughtfully, and a few delicate +petals of the flowers dying in her hair fell like big drops of crimson +and white at her feet. + +“Did you know?” she whispered. + +“No!” said Willems. “They sent for me.” + +“Tell them to depart. They are accursed. What is there between them and +you--and you who carry my life in your heart!” + +Willems said nothing. He stood before her looking down on the ground and +repeating to himself: I must get that revolver away from her, at +once, at once. I can’t think of trusting myself with those men without +firearms. I must have it. + +She asked, after gazing in silence at Joanna, who was sobbing gently-- + +“Who is she?” + +“My wife,” answered Willems, without looking up. “My wife according to +our white law, which comes from God!” + +“Your law! Your God!” murmured Aissa, contemptuously. + +“Give me this revolver,” said Willems, in a peremptory tone. He felt an +unwillingness to close with her, to get it by force. + +She took no notice and went on-- + +“Your law . . . or your lies? What am I to believe? I came--I ran to +defend you when I saw the strange men. You lied to me with your lips, +with your eyes. You crooked heart! . . . Ah!” she added, after an abrupt +pause. “She is the first! Am I then to be a slave?” + +“You may be what you like,” said Willems, brutally. “I am going.” + +Her gaze was fastened on the blanket under which she had detected a +slight movement. She made a long stride towards it. Willems turned half +round. His legs seemed to him to be made of lead. He felt faint and so +weak that, for a moment, the fear of dying there where he stood, before +he could escape from sin and disaster, passed through his mind in a wave +of despair. + +She lifted up one corner of the blanket, and when she saw the sleeping +child a sudden quick shudder shook her as though she had seen something +inexpressibly horrible. She looked at Louis Willems with eyes fixed in +an unbelieving and terrified stare. Then her fingers opened slowly, and +a shadow seemed to settle on her face as if something obscure and fatal +had come between her and the sunshine. She stood looking down, absorbed, +as though she had watched at the bottom of a gloomy abyss the mournful +procession of her thoughts. + +Willems did not move. All his faculties were concentrated upon the idea +of his release. And it was only then that the assurance of it came to +him with such force that he seemed to hear a loud voice shouting in the +heavens that all was over, that in another five, ten minutes, he would +step into another existence; that all this, the woman, the madness, the +sin, the regrets, all would go, rush into the past, disappear, become as +dust, as smoke, as drifting clouds--as nothing! Yes! All would vanish in +the unappeasable past which would swallow up all--even the very memory +of his temptation and of his downfall. Nothing mattered. He cared for +nothing. He had forgotten Aissa, his wife, Lingard, Hudig--everybody, in +the rapid vision of his hopeful future. + +After a while he heard Aissa saying-- + +“A child! A child! What have I done to be made to devour this sorrow and +this grief? And while your man-child and the mother lived you told me +there was nothing for you to remember in the land from which you came! +And I thought you could be mine. I thought that I would . . .” + +Her voice ceased in a broken murmur, and with it, in her heart, seemed +to die the greater and most precious hope of her new life. + +She had hoped that in the future the frail arms of a child would bind +their two lives together in a bond which nothing on earth could break, +a bond of affection, of gratitude, of tender respect. She the first--the +only one! But in the instant she saw the son of that other woman she +felt herself removed into the cold, the darkness, the silence of +a solitude impenetrable and immense--very far from him, beyond the +possibility of any hope, into an infinity of wrongs without any redress. + +She strode nearer to Joanna. She felt towards that woman anger, envy, +jealousy. Before her she felt humiliated and enraged. She seized the +hanging sleeve of the jacket in which Joanna was hiding her face and +tore it out of her hands, exclaiming loudly-- + +“Let me see the face of her before whom I am only a servant and a slave. +Ya-wa! I see you!” + +Her unexpected shout seemed to fill the sunlit space of cleared grounds, +rise high and run on far into the land over the unstirring tree-tops +of the forests. She stood in sudden stillness, looking at Joanna with +surprised contempt. + +“A Sirani woman!” she said, slowly, in a tone of wonder. + +Joanna rushed at Willems--clung to him, shrieking: “Defend me, Peter! +Defend me from that woman!” + +“Be quiet. There is no danger,” muttered Willems, thickly. + +Aissa looked at them with scorn. “God is great! I sit in the dust at +your feet,” she exclaimed jeeringly, joining her hands above her head in +a gesture of mock humility. “Before you I am as nothing.” She turned to +Willems fiercely, opening her arms wide. “What have you made of me?” she +cried, “you lying child of an accursed mother! What have you made of me? +The slave of a slave. Don’t speak! Your words are worse than the poison +of snakes. A Sirani woman. A woman of a people despised by all.” + +She pointed her finger at Joanna, stepped back, and began to laugh. + +“Make her stop, Peter!” screamed Joanna. “That heathen woman. Heathen! +Heathen! Beat her, Peter.” + +Willems caught sight of the revolver which Aissa had laid on the seat +near the child. He spoke in Dutch to his wife, without moving his head. + +“Snatch the boy--and my revolver there. See. Run to the boat. I will +keep her back. Now’s the time.” + +Aissa came nearer. She stared at Joanna, while between the short gusts +of broken laughter she raved, fumbling distractedly at the buckle of her +belt. + +“To her! To her--the mother of him who will speak of your wisdom, of +your courage. All to her. I have nothing. Nothing. Take, take.” + +She tore the belt off and threw it at Joanna’s feet. She flung down +with haste the armlets, the gold pins, the flowers; and the long hair, +released, fell scattered over her shoulders, framing in its blackness +the wild exaltation of her face. + +“Drive her off, Peter. Drive off the heathen savage,” persisted Joanna. +She seemed to have lost her head altogether. She stamped, clinging to +Willems’ arm with both her hands. + +“Look,” cried Aissa. “Look at the mother of your son! She is afraid. Why +does she not go from before my face? Look at her. She is ugly.” + +Joanna seemed to understand the scornful tone of the words. As Aissa +stepped back again nearer to the tree she let go her husband’s arm, +rushed at her madly, slapped her face, then, swerving round, darted at +the child who, unnoticed, had been wailing for some time, and, snatching +him up, flew down to the waterside, sending shriek after shriek in an +access of insane terror. + +Willems made for the revolver. Aissa passed swiftly, giving him an +unexpected push that sent him staggering away from the tree. She caught +up the weapon, put it behind her back, and cried-- + +“You shall not have it. Go after her. Go to meet danger. . . . Go to +meet death. . . . Go unarmed. . . . Go with empty hands and sweet words +. . . as you came to me. . . . Go helpless and lie to the forests, to +the sea . . . to the death that waits for you. . . .” + +She ceased as if strangled. She saw in the horror of the passing +seconds the half-naked, wild-looking man before her; she heard the faint +shrillness of Joanna’s insane shrieks for help somewhere down by the +riverside. The sunlight streamed on her, on him, on the mute land, on +the murmuring river--the gentle brilliance of a serene morning that, +to her, seemed traversed by ghastly flashes of uncertain darkness. Hate +filled the world, filled the space between them--the hate of race, the +hate of hopeless diversity, the hate of blood; the hate against the man +born in the land of lies and of evil from which nothing but misfortune +comes to those who are not white. And as she stood, maddened, she heard +a whisper near her, the whisper of the dead Omar’s voice saying in her +ear: “Kill! Kill!” + +She cried, seeing him move-- + +“Do not come near me . . . or you die now! Go while I remember yet . . . +remember. . . .” + +Willems pulled himself together for a struggle. He dared not go unarmed. +He made a long stride, and saw her raise the revolver. He noticed that +she had not cocked it, and said to himself that, even if she did fire, +she would surely miss. Go too high; it was a stiff trigger. He made a +step nearer--saw the long barrel moving unsteadily at the end of her +extended arm. He thought: This is my time . . . He bent his knees +slightly, throwing his body forward, and took off with a long bound for +a tearing rush. + +He saw a burst of red flame before his eyes, and was deafened by a +report that seemed to him louder than a clap of thunder. Something +stopped him short, and he stood aspiring in his nostrils the acrid smell +of the blue smoke that drifted from before his eyes like an immense +cloud. . . . Missed, by Heaven! . . . Thought so! . . . And he saw her +very far off, throwing her arms up, while the revolver, very small, lay +on the ground between them. . . . Missed! . . . He would go and pick it +up now. Never before did he understand, as in that second, the joy, +the triumphant delight of sunshine and of life. His mouth was full of +something salt and warm. He tried to cough; spat out. . . . Who +shrieks: In the name of God, he dies!--he dies!--Who dies?--Must pick +up--Night!--What? . . . Night already. . . . + +* * * * * * + + +Many years afterwards Almayer was telling the story of the great +revolution in Sambir to a chance visitor from Europe. He was a +Roumanian, half naturalist, half orchid-hunter for commercial purposes, +who used to declare to everybody, in the first five minutes of +acquaintance, his intention of writing a scientific book about tropical +countries. On his way to the interior he had quartered himself upon +Almayer. He was a man of some education, but he drank his gin neat, or +only, at most, would squeeze the juice of half a small lime into the +raw spirit. He said it was good for his health, and, with that medicine +before him, he would describe to the surprised Almayer the wonders of +European capitals; while Almayer, in exchange, bored him by expounding, +with gusto, his unfavourable opinions of Sambir’s social and political +life. They talked far into the night, across the deal table on the +verandah, while, between them, clear-winged, small, and flabby insects, +dissatisfied with moonlight, streamed in and perished in thousands round +the smoky light of the evil-smelling lamp. + +Almayer, his face flushed, was saying-- + +“Of course, I did not see that. I told you I was stuck in the creek on +account of father’s--Captain Lingard’s--susceptible temper. I am sure I +did it all for the best in trying to facilitate the fellow’s escape; but +Captain Lingard was that kind of man--you know--one couldn’t argue with. +Just before sunset the water was high enough, and we got out of the +creek. We got to Lakamba’s clearing about dark. All very quiet; I +thought they were gone, of course, and felt very glad. We walked up the +courtyard--saw a big heap of something lying in the middle. Out of +that she rose and rushed at us. By God. . . . You know those stories of +faithful dogs watching their masters’ corpses . . . don’t let anybody +approach . . . got to beat them off--and all that. . . . Well, ‘pon my +word we had to beat her off. Had to! She was like a fury. Wouldn’t let +us touch him. Dead--of course. Should think so. Shot through the lung, +on the left side, rather high up, and at pretty close quarters too, for +the two holes were small. Bullet came out through the shoulder-blade. +After we had overpowered her--you can’t imagine how strong that woman +was; it took three of us--we got the body into the boat and shoved off. +We thought she had fainted then, but she got up and rushed into the +water after us. Well, I let her clamber in. What could I do? The river’s +full of alligators. I will never forget that pull up-stream in the night +as long as I live. She sat in the bottom of the boat, holding his head +in her lap, and now and again wiping his face with her hair. There was +a lot of blood dried about his mouth and chin. And for all the six hours +of that journey she kept on whispering tenderly to that corpse! . . . +I had the mate of the schooner with me. The man said afterwards that +he wouldn’t go through it again--not for a handful of diamonds. And I +believed him--I did. It makes me shiver. Do you think he heard? No! I +mean somebody--something--heard? . . .” + +“I am a materialist,” declared the man of science, tilting the bottle +shakily over the emptied glass. + +Almayer shook his head and went on-- + +“Nobody saw how it really happened but that man Mahmat. He always said +that he was no further off from them than two lengths of his lance. It +appears the two women rowed each other while that Willems stood between +them. Then Mahmat says that when Joanna struck her and ran off, the +other two seemed to become suddenly mad together. They rushed here +and there. Mahmat says--those were his very words: ‘I saw her standing +holding the pistol that fires many times and pointing it all over the +campong. I was afraid--lest she might shoot me, and jumped on one side. +Then I saw the white man coming at her swiftly. He came like our master +the tiger when he rushes out of the jungle at the spears held by men. +She did not take aim. The barrel of her weapon went like this--from side +to side, but in her eyes I could see suddenly a great fear. There was +only one shot. She shrieked while the white man stood blinking his eyes +and very straight, till you could count slowly one, two, three; then +he coughed and fell on his face. The daughter of Omar shrieked without +drawing breath, till he fell. I went away then and left silence behind +me. These things did not concern me, and in my boat there was that other +woman who had promised me money. We left directly, paying no attention +to her cries. We are only poor men--and had but a small reward for our +trouble!’ That’s what Mahmat said. Never varied. You ask him yourself. +He’s the man you hired the boats from, for your journey up the river.” + +“The most rapacious thief I ever met!” exclaimed the traveller, thickly. + +“Ah! He is a respectable man. His two brothers got themselves +speared--served them right. They went in for robbing Dyak graves. Gold +ornaments in them you know. Serve them right. But he kept respectable +and got on. Aye! Everybody got on--but I. And all through that scoundrel +who brought the Arabs here.” + +“De mortuis nil ni . . . num,” muttered Almayer’s guest. + +“I wish you would speak English instead of jabbering in your own +language, which no one can understand,” said Almayer, sulkily. + +“Don’t be angry,” hiccoughed the other. “It’s Latin, and it’s wisdom. It +means: Don’t waste your breath in abusing shadows. No offence there. I +like you. You have a quarrel with Providence--so have I. I was meant to +be a professor, while--look.” + +His head nodded. He sat grasping the glass. Almayer walked up and down, +then stopped suddenly. + +“Yes, they all got on but I. Why? I am better than any of them. Lakamba +calls himself a Sultan, and when I go to see him on business sends that +one-eyed fiend of his--Babalatchi--to tell me that the ruler is +asleep; and shall sleep for a long time. And that Babalatchi! He is the +Shahbandar of the State--if you please. Oh Lord! Shahbandar! The pig! A +vagabond I wouldn’t let come up these steps when he first came here. +. . . Look at Abdulla now. He lives here because--he says--here he is +away from white men. But he has hundreds of thousands. Has a house in +Penang. Ships. What did he not have when he stole my trade from me! +He knocked everything here into a cocked hat, drove father to +gold-hunting--then to Europe, where he disappeared. Fancy a man like +Captain Lingard disappearing as though he had been a common coolie. +Friends of mine wrote to London asking about him. Nobody ever heard of +him there! Fancy! Never heard of Captain Lingard!” + +The learned gatherer of orchids lifted his head. + +“He was a sen--sentimen--tal old buc--buccaneer,” he stammered out, “I +like him. I’m sent--tal myself.” + +He winked slowly at Almayer, who laughed. + +“Yes! I told you about that gravestone. Yes! Another hundred and twenty +dollars thrown away. Wish I had them now. He would do it. And the +inscription. Ha! ha! ha! ‘Peter Willems, Delivered by the Mercy of God +from his Enemy.’ What enemy--unless Captain Lingard himself? And then it +has no sense. He was a great man--father was--but strange in many ways. +. . . You haven’t seen the grave? On the top of that hill, there, on the +other side of the river. I must show you. We will go there.” + +“Not I!” said the other. “No interest--in the sun--too tiring. . . . +Unless you carry me there.” + +As a matter of fact he was carried there a few months afterwards, and +his was the second white man’s grave in Sambir; but at present he was +alive if rather drunk. He asked abruptly-- + +“And the woman?” + +“Oh! Lingard, of course, kept her and her ugly brat in Macassar. Sinful +waste of money--that! Devil only knows what became of them since father +went home. I had my daughter to look after. I shall give you a word to +Mrs. Vinck in Singapore when you go back. You shall see my Nina there. +Lucky man. She is beautiful, and I hear so accomplished, so . . .” + +“I have heard already twenty . . . a hundred times about your daughter. +What ab--about--that--that other one, Ai--ssa?” + +“She! Oh! we kept her here. She was mad for a long time in a quiet sort +of way. Father thought a lot of her. He gave her a house to live in, +in my campong. She wandered about, speaking to nobody unless she caught +sight of Abdulla, when she would have a fit of fury, and shriek and +curse like anything. Very often she would disappear--and then we all had +to turn out and hunt for her, because father would worry till she was +brought back. Found her in all kinds of places. Once in the abandoned +campong of Lakamba. Sometimes simply wandering in the bush. She had one +favourite spot we always made for at first. It was ten to one on finding +her there--a kind of a grassy glade on the banks of a small brook. Why +she preferred that place, I can’t imagine! And such a job to get her +away from there. Had to drag her away by main force. Then, as the time +passed, she became quieter and more settled, like. Still, all my people +feared her greatly. It was my Nina that tamed her. You see the child was +naturally fearless and used to have her own way, so she would go to +her and pull at her sarong, and order her about, as she did everybody. +Finally she, I verily believe, came to love the child. Nothing could +resist that little one--you know. She made a capital nurse. Once when +the little devil ran away from me and fell into the river off the end +of the jetty, she jumped in and pulled her out in no time. I very nearly +died of fright. Now of course she lives with my serving girls, but does +what she likes. As long as I have a handful of rice or a piece of cotton +in the store she sha’n’t want for anything. You have seen her. She +brought in the dinner with Ali.” + +“What! That doubled-up crone?” + +“Ah!” said Almayer. “They age quickly here. And long foggy nights spent +in the bush will soon break the strongest backs--as you will find out +yourself soon.” + +“Dis . . . disgusting,” growled the traveller. + +He dozed off. Almayer stood by the balustrade looking out at the bluish +sheen of the moonlit night. The forests, unchanged and sombre, seemed +to hang over the water, listening to the unceasing whisper of the great +river; and above their dark wall the hill on which Lingard had buried +the body of his late prisoner rose in a black, rounded mass, upon +the silver paleness of the sky. Almayer looked for a long time at +the clean-cut outline of the summit, as if trying to make out through +darkness and distance the shape of that expensive tombstone. When he +turned round at last he saw his guest sleeping, his arms on the table, +his head on his arms. + +“Now, look here!” he shouted, slapping the table with the palm of his +hand. + +The naturalist woke up, and sat all in a heap, staring owlishly. + +“Here!” went on Almayer, speaking very loud and thumping the table, “I +want to know. You, who say you have read all the books, just tell me +. . . why such infernal things are ever allowed. Here I am! Done harm to +nobody, lived an honest life . . . and a scoundrel like that is born in +Rotterdam or some such place at the other end of the world somewhere, +travels out here, robs his employer, runs away from his wife, and ruins +me and my Nina--he ruined me, I tell you--and gets himself shot at last +by a poor miserable savage, that knows nothing at all about him really. +Where’s the sense of all this? Where’s your Providence? Where’s the good +for anybody in all this? The world’s a swindle! A swindle! Why should I +suffer? What have I done to be treated so?” + +He howled out his string of questions, and suddenly became silent. +The man who ought to have been a professor made a tremendous effort to +articulate distinctly-- + +“My dear fellow, don’t--don’t you see that the ba-bare fac--the fact of +your existence is off--offensive. . . . I--I like you--like . . .” + +He fell forward on the table, and ended his remarks by an unexpected and +prolonged snore. + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the balustrade. + +He drank his own trade gin very seldom, but when he did, a ridiculously +small quantity of the stuff could induce him to assume a rebellious +attitude towards the scheme of the universe. And now, throwing his body +over the rail, he shouted impudently into the night, turning his face +towards that far-off and invisible slab of imported granite upon which +Lingard had thought fit to record God’s mercy and Willems’ escape. + +“Father was wrong--wrong!” he yelled. “I want you to smart for it. You +must smart for it! Where are you, Willems? Hey? . . . Hey? . . . Where +there is no mercy for you--I hope!” + +“Hope,” repeated in a whispering echo the startled forests, the river +and the hills; and Almayer, who stood waiting, with a smile of tipsy +attention on his lips, heard no other answer. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s An Outcast of the Islands, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS *** + +***** This file should be named 638-0.txt or 638-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/638/ + +Produced by Judith 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: An Outcast of the Islands + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #638] +Last Updated: September 9, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Joseph Conrad + </h2> + <h3> + <i>Pues el delito mayor Del hombre es haber nacito</i><br /> + CALDERON <br /> + </h3> + <h3> + TO EDWARD LANCELOT SANDERSON + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> AUTHOR’S NOTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> <big><b>PART I</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <big><b>PART II</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> <big><b>PART III</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART4"> <big><b>PART IV</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART5"> <big><b>PART V</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + AUTHOR’S NOTE + </h2> + <p> + “An Outcast of the Islands” is my second novel in the absolute sense of + the word; second in conception, second in execution, second as it were in + its essence. There was no hesitation, half-formed plan, vague idea, or the + vaguest reverie of anything else between it and “Almayer’s Folly.” The + only doubt I suffered from, after the publication of “Almayer’s Folly,” + was whether I should write another line for print. Those days, now grown + so dim, had their poignant moments. Neither in my mind nor in my heart had + I then given up the sea. In truth I was clinging to it desperately, all + the more desperately because, against my will, I could not help feeling + that there was something changed in my relation to it. “Almayer’s Folly,” + had been finished and done with. The mood itself was gone. But it had left + the memory of an experience that, both in thought and emotion was + unconnected with the sea, and I suppose that part of my moral being which + is rooted in consistency was badly shaken. I was a victim of contrary + stresses which produced a state of immobility. I gave myself up to + indolence. Since it was impossible for me to face both ways I had elected + to face nothing. The discovery of new values in life is a very chaotic + experience; there is a tremendous amount of jostling and confusion and a + momentary feeling of darkness. I let my spirit float supine over that + chaos. + </p> + <p> + A phrase of Edward Garnett’s is, as a matter of fact, responsible for this + book. The first of the friends I made for myself by my pen it was but + natural that he should be the recipient, at that time, of my confidences. + One evening when we had dined together and he had listened to the account + of my perplexities (I fear he must have been growing a little tired of + them) he pointed out that there was no need to determine my future + absolutely. Then he added: “You have the style, you have the temperament; + why not write another?” I believe that as far as one man may wish to + influence another man’s life Edward Garnett had a great desire that I + should go on writing. At that time, and I may say, ever afterwards, he was + always very patient and gentle with me. What strikes me most however in + the phrase quoted above which was offered to me in a tone of detachment is + not its gentleness but its effective wisdom. Had he said, “Why not go on + writing,” it is very probable he would have scared me away from pen and + ink for ever; but there was nothing either to frighten one or arouse one’s + antagonism in the mere suggestion to “write another.” And thus a dead + point in the revolution of my affairs was insidiously got over. The word + “another” did it. At about eleven o’clock of a nice London night, Edward + and I walked along interminable streets talking of many things, and I + remember that on getting home I sat down and wrote about half a page of + “An Outcast of the Islands” before I slept. This was committing myself + definitely, I won’t say to another life, but to another book. There is + apparently something in my character which will not allow me to abandon + for good any piece of work I have begun. I have laid aside many + beginnings. I have laid them aside with sorrow, with disgust, with rage, + with melancholy and even with self-contempt; but even at the worst I had + an uneasy consciousness that I would have to go back to them. + </p> + <p> + “An Outcast of the Islands” belongs to those novels of mine that were + never laid aside; and though it brought me the qualification of “exotic + writer” I don’t think the charge was at all justified. + </p> + <p> + For the life of me I don’t see that there is the slightest exotic spirit + in the conception or style of that novel. It is certainly the most <i>tropical</i> + of my eastern tales. The mere scenery got a great hold on me as I went on, + perhaps because (I may just as well confess that) the story itself was + never very near my heart. + </p> + <p> + It engaged my imagination much more than my affection. As to my feeling + for Willems it was but the regard one cannot help having for one’s own + creation. Obviously I could not be indifferent to a man on whose head I + had brought so much evil simply by imagining him such as he appears in the + novel—and that, too, on a very slight foundation. + </p> + <p> + The man who suggested Willems to me was not particularly interesting in + himself. My interest was aroused by his dependent position, his strange, + dubious status of a mistrusted, disliked, worn-out European living on the + reluctant toleration of that Settlement hidden in the heart of the + forest-land, up that sombre stream which our ship was the only white men’s + ship to visit. With his hollow, clean-shaved cheeks, a heavy grey + moustache and eyes without any expression whatever, clad always in a + spotless sleeping suit much be-frogged in front, which left his lean neck + wholly uncovered, and with his bare feet in a pair of straw slippers, he + wandered silently amongst the houses in daylight, almost as dumb as an + animal and apparently much more homeless. I don’t know what he did with + himself at night. He must have had a place, a hut, a palm-leaf shed, some + sort of hovel where he kept his razor and his change of sleeping suits. An + air of futile mystery hung over him, something not exactly dark but + obviously ugly. The only definite statement I could extract from anybody + was that it was he who had “brought the Arabs into the river.” That must + have happened many years before. But how did he bring them into the river? + He could hardly have done it in his arms like a lot of kittens. I knew + that Almayer founded the chronology of all his misfortunes on the date of + that fateful advent; and yet the very first time we dined with Almayer + there was Willems sitting at table with us in the manner of the skeleton + at the feast, obviously shunned by everybody, never addressed by any one, + and for all recognition of his existence getting now and then from Almayer + a venomous glance which I observed with great surprise. In the course of + the whole evening he ventured one single remark which I didn’t catch + because his articulation was imperfect, as of a man who had forgotten how + to speak. I was the only person who seemed aware of the sound. Willems + subsided. Presently he retired, pointedly unnoticed—into the forest + maybe? Its immensity was there, within three hundred yards of the + verandah, ready to swallow up anything. Almayer conversing with my captain + did not stop talking while he glared angrily at the retreating back. + Didn’t that fellow bring the Arabs into the river! Nevertheless Willems + turned up next morning on Almayer’s verandah. From the bridge of the + steamer I could see plainly these two, breakfasting together, tete a tete + and, I suppose, in dead silence, one with his air of being no longer + interested in this world and the other raising his eyes now and then with + intense dislike. + </p> + <p> + It was clear that in those days Willems lived on Almayer’s charity. Yet on + returning two months later to Sambir I heard that he had gone on an + expedition up the river in charge of a steam-launch belonging to the + Arabs, to make some discovery or other. On account of the strange + reluctance that everyone manifested to talk about Willems it was + impossible for me to get at the rights of that transaction. Moreover, I + was a newcomer, the youngest of the company, and, I suspect, not judged + quite fit as yet for a full confidence. I was not much concerned about + that exclusion. The faint suggestion of plots and mysteries pertaining to + all matters touching Almayer’s affairs amused me vastly. Almayer was + obviously very much affected. I believe he missed Willems immensely. He + wore an air of sinister preoccupation and talked confidentially with my + captain. I could catch only snatches of mumbled sentences. Then one + morning as I came along the deck to take my place at the breakfast table + Almayer checked himself in his low-toned discourse. My captain’s face was + perfectly impenetrable. There was a moment of profound silence and then as + if unable to contain himself Almayer burst out in a loud vicious tone: + </p> + <p> + “One thing’s certain; if he finds anything worth having up there they will + poison him like a dog.” + </p> + <p> + Disconnected though it was, that phrase, as food for thought, was + distinctly worth hearing. We left the river three days afterwards and I + never returned to Sambir; but whatever happened to the protagonist of my + Willems nobody can deny that I have recorded for him a less squalid fate. + </p> + <p> + J. C. 1919. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART I + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + When he stepped off the straight and narrow path of his peculiar honesty, + it was with an inward assertion of unflinching resolve to fall back again + into the monotonous but safe stride of virtue as soon as his little + excursion into the wayside quagmires had produced the desired effect. It + was going to be a short episode—a sentence in brackets, so to speak—in + the flowing tale of his life: a thing of no moment, to be done + unwillingly, yet neatly, and to be quickly forgotten. He imagined that he + could go on afterwards looking at the sunshine, enjoying the shade, + breathing in the perfume of flowers in the small garden before his house. + He fancied that nothing would be changed, that he would be able as + heretofore to tyrannize good-humouredly over his half-caste wife, to + notice with tender contempt his pale yellow child, to patronize loftily + his dark-skinned brother-in-law, who loved pink neckties and wore + patent-leather boots on his little feet, and was so humble before the + white husband of the lucky sister. Those were the delights of his life, + and he was unable to conceive that the moral significance of any act of + his could interfere with the very nature of things, could dim the light of + the sun, could destroy the perfume of the flowers, the submission of his + wife, the smile of his child, the awe-struck respect of Leonard da Souza + and of all the Da Souza family. That family’s admiration was the great + luxury of his life. It rounded and completed his existence in a perpetual + assurance of unquestionable superiority. He loved to breathe the coarse + incense they offered before the shrine of the successful white man; the + man that had done them the honour to marry their daughter, sister, cousin; + the rising man sure to climb very high; the confidential clerk of Hudig + & Co. They were a numerous and an unclean crowd, living in ruined + bamboo houses, surrounded by neglected compounds, on the outskirts of + Macassar. He kept them at arm’s length and even further off, perhaps, + having no illusions as to their worth. They were a half-caste, lazy lot, + and he saw them as they were—ragged, lean, unwashed, undersized men + of various ages, shuffling about aimlessly in slippers; motionless old + women who looked like monstrous bags of pink calico stuffed with shapeless + lumps of fat, and deposited askew upon decaying rattan chairs in shady + corners of dusty verandahs; young women, slim and yellow, big-eyed, + long-haired, moving languidly amongst the dirt and rubbish of their + dwellings as if every step they took was going to be their very last. He + heard their shrill quarrellings, the squalling of their children, the + grunting of their pigs; he smelt the odours of the heaps of garbage in + their courtyards: and he was greatly disgusted. But he fed and clothed + that shabby multitude; those degenerate descendants of Portuguese + conquerors; he was their providence; he kept them singing his praises in + the midst of their laziness, of their dirt, of their immense and hopeless + squalor: and he was greatly delighted. They wanted much, but he could give + them all they wanted without ruining himself. In exchange he had their + silent fear, their loquacious love, their noisy veneration. It is a fine + thing to be a providence, and to be told so on every day of one’s life. It + gives one a feeling of enormously remote superiority, and Willems revelled + in it. He did not analyze the state of his mind, but probably his greatest + delight lay in the unexpressed but intimate conviction that, should he + close his hand, all those admiring human beings would starve. His + munificence had demoralized them. An easy task. Since he descended amongst + them and married Joanna they had lost the little aptitude and strength for + work they might have had to put forth under the stress of extreme + necessity. They lived now by the grace of his will. This was power. + Willems loved it. In another, and perhaps a lower plane, his days did not + want for their less complex but more obvious pleasures. He liked the + simple games of skill—billiards; also games not so simple, and + calling for quite another kind of skill—poker. He had been the + aptest pupil of a steady-eyed, sententious American, who had drifted + mysteriously into Macassar from the wastes of the Pacific, and, after + knocking about for a time in the eddies of town life, had drifted out + enigmatically into the sunny solitudes of the Indian Ocean. The memory of + the Californian stranger was perpetuated in the game of poker—which + became popular in the capital of Celebes from that time—and in a + powerful cocktail, the recipe for which is transmitted—in the + Kwang-tung dialect—from head boy to head boy of the Chinese servants + in the Sunda Hotel even to this day. Willems was a connoisseur in the + drink and an adept at the game. Of those accomplishments he was moderately + proud. Of the confidence reposed in him by Hudig—the master—he + was boastfully and obtrusively proud. This arose from his great + benevolence, and from an exalted sense of his duty to himself and the + world at large. He experienced that irresistible impulse to impart + information which is inseparable from gross ignorance. There is always + some one thing which the ignorant man knows, and that thing is the only + thing worth knowing; it fills the ignorant man’s universe. Willems knew + all about himself. On the day when, with many misgivings, he ran away from + a Dutch East-Indiaman in Samarang roads, he had commenced that study of + himself, of his own ways, of his own abilities, of those fate-compelling + qualities of his which led him toward that lucrative position which he now + filled. Being of a modest and diffident nature, his successes amazed, + almost frightened him, and ended—as he got over the succeeding + shocks of surprise—by making him ferociously conceited. He believed + in his genius and in his knowledge of the world. Others should know of it + also; for their own good and for his greater glory. All those friendly men + who slapped him on the back and greeted him noisily should have the + benefit of his example. For that he must talk. He talked to them + conscientiously. In the afternoon he expounded his theory of success over + the little tables, dipping now and then his moustache in the crushed ice + of the cocktails; in the evening he would often hold forth, cue in hand, + to a young listener across the billiard table. The billiard balls stood + still as if listening also, under the vivid brilliance of the shaded oil + lamps hung low over the cloth; while away in the shadows of the big room + the Chinaman marker would lean wearily against the wall, the blank mask of + his face looking pale under the mahogany marking-board; his eyelids + dropped in the drowsy fatigue of late hours and in the buzzing monotony of + the unintelligible stream of words poured out by the white man. In a + sudden pause of the talk the game would recommence with a sharp click and + go on for a time in the flowing soft whirr and the subdued thuds as the + balls rolled zig-zagging towards the inevitably successful cannon. Through + the big windows and the open doors the salt dampness of the sea, the vague + smell of mould and flowers from the garden of the hotel drifted in and + mingled with the odour of lamp oil, growing heavier as the night advanced. + The players’ heads dived into the light as they bent down for the stroke, + springing back again smartly into the greenish gloom of broad lamp-shades; + the clock ticked methodically; the unmoved Chinaman continuously repeated + the score in a lifeless voice, like a big talking doll—and Willems + would win the game. With a remark that it was getting late, and that he + was a married man, he would say a patronizing good-night and step out into + the long, empty street. At that hour its white dust was like a dazzling + streak of moonlight where the eye sought repose in the dimmer gleam of + rare oil lamps. Willems walked homewards, following the line of walls + overtopped by the luxuriant vegetation of the front gardens. The houses + right and left were hidden behind the black masses of flowering shrubs. + Willems had the street to himself. He would walk in the middle, his shadow + gliding obsequiously before him. He looked down on it complacently. The + shadow of a successful man! He would be slightly dizzy with the cocktails + and with the intoxication of his own glory. As he often told people, he + came east fourteen years ago—a cabin boy. A small boy. His shadow + must have been very small at that time; he thought with a smile that he + was not aware then he had anything—even a shadow—which he + dared call his own. And now he was looking at the shadow of the + confidential clerk of Hudig & Co. going home. How glorious! How good + was life for those that were on the winning side! He had won the game of + life; also the game of billiards. He walked faster, jingling his winnings, + and thinking of the white stone days that had marked the path of his + existence. He thought of the trip to Lombok for ponies—that first + important transaction confided to him by Hudig; then he reviewed the more + important affairs: the quiet deal in opium; the illegal traffic in + gunpowder; the great affair of smuggled firearms, the difficult business + of the Rajah of Goak. He carried that last through by sheer pluck; he had + bearded the savage old ruler in his council room; he had bribed him with a + gilt glass coach, which, rumour said, was used as a hen-coop now; he had + over-persuaded him; he had bested him in every way. That was the way to + get on. He disapproved of the elementary dishonesty that dips the hand in + the cash-box, but one could evade the laws and push the principles of + trade to their furthest consequences. Some call that cheating. Those are + the fools, the weak, the contemptible. The wise, the strong, the + respected, have no scruples. Where there are scruples there can be no + power. On that text he preached often to the young men. It was his + doctrine, and he, himself, was a shining example of its truth. + </p> + <p> + Night after night he went home thus, after a day of toil and pleasure, + drunk with the sound of his own voice celebrating his own prosperity. On + his thirtieth birthday he went home thus. He had spent in good company a + nice, noisy evening, and, as he walked along the empty street, the feeling + of his own greatness grew upon him, lifted him above the white dust of the + road, and filled him with exultation and regrets. He had not done himself + justice over there in the hotel, he had not talked enough about himself, + he had not impressed his hearers enough. Never mind. Some other time. Now + he would go home and make his wife get up and listen to him. Why should + she not get up?—and mix a cocktail for him—and listen + patiently. Just so. She shall. If he wanted he could make all the Da Souza + family get up. He had only to say a word and they would all come and sit + silently in their night vestments on the hard, cold ground of his compound + and listen, as long as he wished to go on explaining to them from the top + of the stairs, how great and good he was. They would. However, his wife + would do—for to-night. + </p> + <p> + His wife! He winced inwardly. A dismal woman with startled eyes and + dolorously drooping mouth, that would listen to him in pained wonder and + mute stillness. She was used to those night-discourses now. She had + rebelled once—at the beginning. Only once. Now, while he sprawled in + the long chair and drank and talked, she would stand at the further end of + the table, her hands resting on the edge, her frightened eyes watching his + lips, without a sound, without a stir, hardly breathing, till he dismissed + her with a contemptuous: “Go to bed, dummy.” She would draw a long breath + then and trail out of the room, relieved but unmoved. Nothing could + startle her, make her scold or make her cry. She did not complain, she did + not rebel. That first difference of theirs was decisive. Too decisive, + thought Willems, discontentedly. It had frightened the soul out of her + body apparently. A dismal woman! A damn’d business altogether! What the + devil did he want to go and saddle himself. . . . Ah! Well! he wanted a + home, and the match seemed to please Hudig, and Hudig gave him the + bungalow, that flower-bowered house to which he was wending his way in the + cool moonlight. And he had the worship of the Da Souza tribe. A man of his + stamp could carry off anything, do anything, aspire to anything. In + another five years those white people who attended the Sunday card-parties + of the Governor would accept him—half-caste wife and all! Hooray! He + saw his shadow dart forward and wave a hat, as big as a rum barrel, at the + end of an arm several yards long. . . . Who shouted hooray? . . . He + smiled shamefacedly to himself, and, pushing his hands deep into his + pockets, walked faster with a suddenly grave face. Behind him—to the + left—a cigar end glowed in the gateway of Mr. Vinck’s front yard. + Leaning against one of the brick pillars, Mr. Vinck, the cashier of Hudig + & Co., smoked the last cheroot of the evening. Amongst the shadows of + the trimmed bushes Mrs. Vinck crunched slowly, with measured steps, the + gravel of the circular path before the house. + </p> + <p> + “There’s Willems going home on foot—and drunk I fancy,” said Mr. + Vinck over his shoulder. “I saw him jump and wave his hat.” + </p> + <p> + The crunching of the gravel stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Horrid man,” said Mrs. Vinck, calmly. “I have heard he beats his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, my dear, no,” muttered absently Mr. Vinck, with a vague gesture. + The aspect of Willems as a wife-beater presented to him no interest. How + women do misjudge! If Willems wanted to torture his wife he would have + recourse to less primitive methods. Mr. Vinck knew Willems well, and + believed him to be very able, very smart—objectionably so. As he + took the last quick draws at the stump of his cheroot, Mr. Vinck reflected + that the confidence accorded by Hudig to Willems was open, under the + circumstances, to loyal criticism from Hudig’s cashier. + </p> + <p> + “He is becoming dangerous; he knows too much. He will have to be got rid + of,” said Mr. Vinck aloud. But Mrs. Vinck had gone in already, and after + shaking his head he threw away his cheroot and followed her slowly. + </p> + <p> + Willems walked on homeward weaving the splendid web of his future. The + road to greatness lay plainly before his eyes, straight and shining, + without any obstacle that he could see. He had stepped off the path of + honesty, as he understood it, but he would soon regain it, never to leave + it any more! It was a very small matter. He would soon put it right again. + Meantime his duty was not to be found out, and he trusted in his skill, in + his luck, in his well-established reputation that would disarm suspicion + if anybody dared to suspect. But nobody would dare! True, he was conscious + of a slight deterioration. He had appropriated temporarily some of Hudig’s + money. A deplorable necessity. But he judged himself with the indulgence + that should be extended to the weaknesses of genius. He would make + reparation and all would be as before; nobody would be the loser for it, + and he would go on unchecked toward the brilliant goal of his ambition. + </p> + <p> + Hudig’s partner! + </p> + <p> + Before going up the steps of his house he stood for awhile, his feet well + apart, chin in hand, contemplating mentally Hudig’s future partner. A + glorious occupation. He saw him quite safe; solid as the hills; deep—deep + as an abyss; discreet as the grave. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + The sea, perhaps because of its saltness, roughens the outside but keeps + sweet the kernel of its servants’ soul. The old sea; the sea of many years + ago, whose servants were devoted slaves and went from youth to age or to a + sudden grave without needing to open the book of life, because they could + look at eternity reflected on the element that gave the life and dealt the + death. Like a beautiful and unscrupulous woman, the sea of the past was + glorious in its smiles, irresistible in its anger, capricious, enticing, + illogical, irresponsible; a thing to love, a thing to fear. It cast a + spell, it gave joy, it lulled gently into boundless faith; then with quick + and causeless anger it killed. But its cruelty was redeemed by the charm + of its inscrutable mystery, by the immensity of its promise, by the + supreme witchery of its possible favour. Strong men with childlike hearts + were faithful to it, were content to live by its grace—to die by its + will. That was the sea before the time when the French mind set the + Egyptian muscle in motion and produced a dismal but profitable ditch. Then + a great pall of smoke sent out by countless steam-boats was spread over + the restless mirror of the Infinite. The hand of the engineer tore down + the veil of the terrible beauty in order that greedy and faithless + landlubbers might pocket dividends. The mystery was destroyed. Like all + mysteries, it lived only in the hearts of its worshippers. The hearts + changed; the men changed. The once loving and devoted servants went out + armed with fire and iron, and conquering the fear of their own hearts + became a calculating crowd of cold and exacting masters. The sea of the + past was an incomparably beautiful mistress, with inscrutable face, with + cruel and promising eyes. The sea of to-day is a used-up drudge, wrinkled + and defaced by the churned-up wakes of brutal propellers, robbed of the + enslaving charm of its vastness, stripped of its beauty, of its mystery + and of its promise. + </p> + <p> + Tom Lingard was a master, a lover, a servant of the sea. The sea took him + young, fashioned him body and soul; gave him his fierce aspect, his loud + voice, his fearless eyes, his stupidly guileless heart. Generously it gave + him his absurd faith in himself, his universal love of creation, his wide + indulgence, his contemptuous severity, his straightforward simplicity of + motive and honesty of aim. Having made him what he was, womanlike, the sea + served him humbly and let him bask unharmed in the sunshine of its + terribly uncertain favour. Tom Lingard grew rich on the sea and by the + sea. He loved it with the ardent affection of a lover, he made light of it + with the assurance of perfect mastery, he feared it with the wise fear of + a brave man, and he took liberties with it as a spoiled child might do + with a paternal and good-natured ogre. He was grateful to it, with the + gratitude of an honest heart. His greatest pride lay in his profound + conviction of its faithfulness—in the deep sense of his unerring + knowledge of its treachery. + </p> + <p> + The little brig Flash was the instrument of Lingard’s fortune. They came + north together—both young—out of an Australian port, and after + a very few years there was not a white man in the islands, from Palembang + to Ternate, from Ombawa to Palawan, that did not know Captain Tom and his + lucky craft. He was liked for his reckless generosity, for his unswerving + honesty, and at first was a little feared on account of his violent + temper. Very soon, however, they found him out, and the word went round + that Captain Tom’s fury was less dangerous than many a man’s smile. He + prospered greatly. After his first—and successful—fight with + the sea robbers, when he rescued, as rumour had it, the yacht of some big + wig from home, somewhere down Carimata way, his great popularity began. As + years went on it grew apace. Always visiting out-of-the-way places of that + part of the world, always in search of new markets for his cargoes—not + so much for profit as for the pleasure of finding them—he soon + became known to the Malays, and by his successful recklessness in several + encounters with pirates, established the terror of his name. Those white + men with whom he had business, and who naturally were on the look-out for + his weaknesses, could easily see that it was enough to give him his Malay + title to flatter him greatly. So when there was anything to be gained by + it, and sometimes out of pure and unprofitable good nature, they would + drop the ceremonious “Captain Lingard” and address him half seriously as + Rajah Laut—the King of the Sea. + </p> + <p> + He carried the name bravely on his broad shoulders. He had carried it many + years already when the boy Willems ran barefooted on the deck of the ship + Kosmopoliet IV. in Samarang roads, looking with innocent eyes on the + strange shore and objurgating his immediate surroundings with blasphemous + lips, while his childish brain worked upon the heroic idea of running + away. From the poop of the Flash Lingard saw in the early morning the + Dutch ship get lumberingly under weigh, bound for the eastern ports. Very + late in the evening of the same day he stood on the quay of the landing + canal, ready to go on board of his brig. The night was starry and clear; + the little custom-house building was shut up, and as the gharry that + brought him down disappeared up the long avenue of dusty trees leading to + the town, Lingard thought himself alone on the quay. He roused up his + sleeping boat-crew and stood waiting for them to get ready, when he felt a + tug at his coat and a thin voice said, very distinctly— + </p> + <p> + “English captain.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard turned round quickly, and what seemed to be a very lean boy jumped + back with commendable activity. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you? Where do you spring from?” asked Lingard, in startled + surprise. + </p> + <p> + From a safe distance the boy pointed toward a cargo lighter moored to the + quay. + </p> + <p> + “Been hiding there, have you?” said Lingard. “Well, what do you want? + Speak out, confound you. You did not come here to scare me to death, for + fun, did you?” + </p> + <p> + The boy tried to explain in imperfect English, but very soon Lingard + interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he exclaimed, “you ran away from the big ship that sailed this + morning. Well, why don’t you go to your countrymen here?” + </p> + <p> + “Ship gone only a little way—to Sourabaya. Make me go back to the + ship,” explained the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Best thing for you,” affirmed Lingard with conviction. + </p> + <p> + “No,” retorted the boy; “me want stop here; not want go home. Get money + here; home no good.” + </p> + <p> + “This beats all my going a-fishing,” commented the astonished Lingard. + “It’s money you want? Well! well! And you were not afraid to run away, you + bag of bones, you!” + </p> + <p> + The boy intimated that he was frightened of nothing but of being sent back + to the ship. Lingard looked at him in meditative silence. + </p> + <p> + “Come closer,” he said at last. He took the boy by the chin, and turning + up his face gave him a searching look. “How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Seventeen.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s not much of you for seventeen. Are you hungry?” + </p> + <p> + “A little.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you come with me, in that brig there?” + </p> + <p> + The boy moved without a word towards the boat and scrambled into the bows. + </p> + <p> + “Knows his place,” muttered Lingard to himself as he stepped heavily into + the stern sheets and took up the yoke lines. “Give way there.” + </p> + <p> + The Malay boat crew lay back together, and the gig sprang away from the + quay heading towards the brig’s riding light. + </p> + <p> + Such was the beginning of Willems’ career. + </p> + <p> + Lingard learned in half an hour all that there was of Willems’ commonplace + story. Father outdoor clerk of some ship-broker in Rotterdam; mother dead. + The boy quick in learning, but idle in school. The straitened + circumstances in the house filled with small brothers and sisters, + sufficiently clothed and fed but otherwise running wild, while the + disconsolate widower tramped about all day in a shabby overcoat and + imperfect boots on the muddy quays, and in the evening piloted wearily the + half-intoxicated foreign skippers amongst the places of cheap delights, + returning home late, sick with too much smoking and drinking—for + company’s sake—with these men, who expected such attentions in the + way of business. Then the offer of the good-natured captain of Kosmopoliet + IV., who was pleased to do something for the patient and obliging fellow; + young Willems’ great joy, his still greater disappointment with the sea + that looked so charming from afar, but proved so hard and exacting on + closer acquaintance—and then this running away by a sudden impulse. + The boy was hopelessly at variance with the spirit of the sea. He had an + instinctive contempt for the honest simplicity of that work which led to + nothing he cared for. Lingard soon found this out. He offered to send him + home in an English ship, but the boy begged hard to be permitted to + remain. He wrote a beautiful hand, became soon perfect in English, was + quick at figures; and Lingard made him useful in that way. As he grew + older his trading instincts developed themselves astonishingly, and + Lingard left him often to trade in one island or another while he, + himself, made an intermediate trip to some out-of-the-way place. On + Willems expressing a wish to that effect, Lingard let him enter Hudig’s + service. He felt a little sore at that abandonment because he had attached + himself, in a way, to his protege. Still he was proud of him, and spoke up + for him loyally. At first it was, “Smart boy that—never make a + seaman though.” Then when Willems was helping in the trading he referred + to him as “that clever young fellow.” Later when Willems became the + confidential agent of Hudig, employed in many a delicate affair, the + simple-hearted old seaman would point an admiring finger at his back and + whisper to whoever stood near at the moment, “Long-headed chap that; + deuced long-headed chap. Look at him. Confidential man of old Hudig. I + picked him up in a ditch, you may say, like a starved cat. Skin and bone. + ‘Pon my word I did. And now he knows more than I do about island trading. + Fact. I am not joking. More than I do,” he would repeat, seriously, with + innocent pride in his honest eyes. + </p> + <p> + From the safe elevation of his commercial successes Willems patronized + Lingard. He had a liking for his benefactor, not unmixed with some disdain + for the crude directness of the old fellow’s methods of conduct. There + were, however, certain sides of Lingard’s character for which Willems felt + a qualified respect. The talkative seaman knew how to be silent on certain + matters that to Willems were very interesting. Besides, Lingard was rich, + and that in itself was enough to compel Willems’ unwilling admiration. In + his confidential chats with Hudig, Willems generally alluded to the + benevolent Englishman as the “lucky old fool” in a very distinct tone of + vexation; Hudig would grunt an unqualified assent, and then the two would + look at each other in a sudden immobility of pupils fixed by a stare of + unexpressed thought. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t find out where he gets all that india-rubber, hey Willems?” + Hudig would ask at last, turning away and bending over the papers on his + desk. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Hudig. Not yet. But I am trying,” was Willems’ invariable reply, + delivered with a ring of regretful deprecation. + </p> + <p> + “Try! Always try! You may try! You think yourself clever perhaps,” rumbled + on Hudig, without looking up. “I have been trading with him twenty—thirty + years now. The old fox. And I have tried. Bah!” + </p> + <p> + He stretched out a short, podgy leg and contemplated the bare instep and + the grass slipper hanging by the toes. “You can’t make him drunk?” he + would add, after a pause of stertorous breathing. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Hudig, I can’t really,” protested Willems, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, don’t try. I know him. Don’t try,” advised the master, and, bending + again over his desk, his staring bloodshot eyes close to the paper, he + would go on tracing laboriously with his thick fingers the slim unsteady + letters of his correspondence, while Willems waited respectfully for his + further good pleasure before asking, with great deference— + </p> + <p> + “Any orders, Mr. Hudig?” + </p> + <p> + “Hm! yes. Go to Bun-Hin yourself and see the dollars of that payment + counted and packed, and have them put on board the mail-boat for Ternate. + She’s due here this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Hudig.” + </p> + <p> + “And, look here. If the boat is late, leave the case in Bun-Hin’s godown + till to-morrow. Seal it up. Eight seals as usual. Don’t take it away till + the boat is here.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Hudig.” + </p> + <p> + “And don’t forget about these opium cases. It’s for to-night. Use my own + boatmen. Transship them from the Caroline to the Arab barque,” went on the + master in his hoarse undertone. “And don’t you come to me with another + story of a case dropped overboard like last time,” he added, with sudden + ferocity, looking up at his confidential clerk. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Hudig. I will take care.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all. Tell that pig as you go out that if he doesn’t make the + punkah go a little better I will break every bone in his body,” finished + up Hudig, wiping his purple face with a red silk handkerchief nearly as + big as a counterpane. + </p> + <p> + Noiselessly Willems went out, shutting carefully behind him the little + green door through which he passed to the warehouse. Hudig, pen in hand, + listened to him bullying the punkah boy with profane violence, born of + unbounded zeal for the master’s comfort, before he returned to his writing + amid the rustling of papers fluttering in the wind sent down by the punkah + that waved in wide sweeps above his head. + </p> + <p> + Willems would nod familiarly to Mr. Vinck, who had his desk close to the + little door of the private office, and march down the warehouse with an + important air. Mr. Vinck—extreme dislike lurking in every wrinkle of + his gentlemanly countenance—would follow with his eyes the white + figure flitting in the gloom amongst the piles of bales and cases till it + passed out through the big archway into the glare of the street. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + The opportunity and the temptation were too much for Willems, and under + the pressure of sudden necessity he abused that trust which was his pride, + the perpetual sign of his cleverness and a load too heavy for him to + carry. A run of bad luck at cards, the failure of a small speculation + undertaken on his own account, an unexpected demand for money from one or + another member of the Da Souza family—and almost before he was well + aware of it he was off the path of his peculiar honesty. It was such a + faint and ill-defined track that it took him some time to find out how far + he had strayed amongst the brambles of the dangerous wilderness he had + been skirting for so many years, without any other guide than his own + convenience and that doctrine of success which he had found for himself in + the book of life—in those interesting chapters that the Devil has + been permitted to write in it, to test the sharpness of men’s eyesight and + the steadfastness of their hearts. For one short, dark and solitary moment + he was dismayed, but he had that courage that will not scale heights, yet + will wade bravely through the mud—if there be no other road. He + applied himself to the task of restitution, and devoted himself to the + duty of not being found out. On his thirtieth birthday he had almost + accomplished the task—and the duty had been faithfully and cleverly + performed. He saw himself safe. Again he could look hopefully towards the + goal of his legitimate ambition. Nobody would dare to suspect him, and in + a few days there would be nothing to suspect. He was elated. He did not + know that his prosperity had touched then its high-water mark, and that + the tide was already on the turn. + </p> + <p> + Two days afterwards he knew. Mr. Vinck, hearing the rattle of the + door-handle, jumped up from his desk—where he had been tremulously + listening to the loud voices in the private office—and buried his + face in the big safe with nervous haste. For the last time Willems passed + through the little green door leading to Hudig’s sanctum, which, during + the past half-hour, might have been taken—from the fiendish noise + within—for the cavern of some wild beast. Willems’ troubled eyes + took in the quick impression of men and things as he came out from the + place of his humiliation. He saw the scared expression of the punkah boy; + the Chinamen tellers sitting on their heels with unmovable faces turned up + blankly towards him while their arrested hands hovered over the little + piles of bright guilders ranged on the floor; Mr. Vinck’s shoulder-blades + with the fleshy rims of two red ears above. He saw the long avenue of gin + cases stretching from where he stood to the arched doorway beyond which he + would be able to breathe perhaps. A thin rope’s end lay across his path + and he saw it distinctly, yet stumbled heavily over it as if it had been a + bar of iron. Then he found himself in the street at last, but could not + find air enough to fill his lungs. He walked towards his home, gasping. + </p> + <p> + As the sound of Hudig’s insults that lingered in his ears grew fainter by + the lapse of time, the feeling of shame was replaced slowly by a passion + of anger against himself and still more against the stupid concourse of + circumstances that had driven him into his idiotic indiscretion. Idiotic + indiscretion; that is how he defined his guilt to himself. Could there be + anything worse from the point of view of his undeniable cleverness? What a + fatal aberration of an acute mind! He did not recognize himself there. He + must have been mad. That’s it. A sudden gust of madness. And now the work + of long years was destroyed utterly. What would become of him? + </p> + <p> + Before he could answer that question he found himself in the garden before + his house, Hudig’s wedding gift. He looked at it with a vague surprise to + find it there. His past was so utterly gone from him that the dwelling + which belonged to it appeared to him incongruous standing there intact, + neat, and cheerful in the sunshine of the hot afternoon. The house was a + pretty little structure all doors and windows, surrounded on all sides by + the deep verandah supported on slender columns clothed in the green + foliage of creepers, which also fringed the overhanging eaves of the + high-pitched roof. Slowly, Willems mounted the dozen steps that led to the + verandah. He paused at every step. He must tell his wife. He felt + frightened at the prospect, and his alarm dismayed him. Frightened to face + her! Nothing could give him a better measure of the greatness of the + change around him, and in him. Another man—and another life with the + faith in himself gone. He could not be worth much if he was afraid to face + that woman. + </p> + <p> + He dared not enter the house through the open door of the dining-room, but + stood irresolute by the little work-table where trailed a white piece of + calico, with a needle stuck in it, as if the work had been left hurriedly. + The pink-crested cockatoo started, on his appearance, into clumsy activity + and began to climb laboriously up and down his perch, calling “Joanna” + with indistinct loudness and a persistent screech that prolonged the last + syllable of the name as if in a peal of insane laughter. The screen in the + doorway moved gently once or twice in the breeze, and each time Willems + started slightly, expecting his wife, but he never lifted his eyes, + although straining his ears for the sound of her footsteps. Gradually he + lost himself in his thoughts, in the endless speculation as to the manner + in which she would receive his news—and his orders. In this + preoccupation he almost forgot the fear of her presence. No doubt she will + cry, she will lament, she will be helpless and frightened and passive as + ever. And he would have to drag that limp weight on and on through the + darkness of a spoiled life. Horrible! Of course he could not abandon her + and the child to certain misery or possible starvation. The wife and the + child of Willems. Willems the successful, the smart; Willems the conf . . + . . Pah! And what was Willems now? Willems the. . . . He strangled the + half-born thought, and cleared his throat to stifle a groan. Ah! Won’t + they talk to-night in the billiard-room—his world, where he had been + first—all those men to whom he had been so superciliously + condescending. Won’t they talk with surprise, and affected regret, and + grave faces, and wise nods. Some of them owed him money, but he never + pressed anybody. Not he. Willems, the prince of good fellows, they called + him. And now they will rejoice, no doubt, at his downfall. A crowd of + imbeciles. In his abasement he was yet aware of his superiority over those + fellows, who were merely honest or simply not found out yet. A crowd of + imbeciles! He shook his fist at the evoked image of his friends, and the + startled parrot fluttered its wings and shrieked in desperate fright. + </p> + <p> + In a short glance upwards Willems saw his wife come round the corner of + the house. He lowered his eyelids quickly, and waited silently till she + came near and stood on the other side of the little table. He would not + look at her face, but he could see the red dressing-gown he knew so well. + She trailed through life in that red dressing-gown, with its row of dirty + blue bows down the front, stained, and hooked on awry; a torn flounce at + the bottom following her like a snake as she moved languidly about, with + her hair negligently caught up, and a tangled wisp straggling untidily + down her back. His gaze travelled upwards from bow to bow, noticing those + that hung only by a thread, but it did not go beyond her chin. He looked + at her lean throat, at the obtrusive collarbone visible in the disarray of + the upper part of her attire. He saw the thin arm and the bony hand + clasping the child she carried, and he felt an immense distaste for those + encumbrances of his life. He waited for her to say something, but as he + felt her eyes rest on him in unbroken silence he sighed and began to + speak. + </p> + <p> + It was a hard task. He spoke slowly, lingering amongst the memories of + this early life in his reluctance to confess that this was the end of it + and the beginning of a less splendid existence. In his conviction of + having made her happiness in the full satisfaction of all material wants + he never doubted for a moment that she was ready to keep him company on no + matter how hard and stony a road. He was not elated by this certitude. He + had married her to please Hudig, and the greatness of his sacrifice ought + to have made her happy without any further exertion on his part. She had + years of glory as Willems’ wife, and years of comfort, of loyal care, and + of such tenderness as she deserved. He had guarded her carefully from any + bodily hurt; and of any other suffering he had no conception. The + assertion of his superiority was only another benefit conferred on her. + All this was a matter of course, but he told her all this so as to bring + vividly before her the greatness of her loss. She was so dull of + understanding that she would not grasp it else. And now it was at an end. + They would have to go. Leave this house, leave this island, go far away + where he was unknown. To the English Strait-Settlements perhaps. He would + find an opening there for his abilities—and juster men to deal with + than old Hudig. He laughed bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “You have the money I left at home this morning, Joanna?” he asked. “We + will want it all now.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke those words he thought he was a fine fellow. Nothing new that. + Still, he surpassed there his own expectations. Hang it all, there are + sacred things in life, after all. The marriage tie was one of them, and he + was not the man to break it. The solidity of his principles caused him + great satisfaction, but he did not care to look at his wife, for all that. + He waited for her to speak. Then he would have to console her; tell her + not to be a crying fool; to get ready to go. Go where? How? When? He shook + his head. They must leave at once; that was the principal thing. He felt a + sudden need to hurry up his departure. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Joanna,” he said, a little impatiently—-“don’t stand there in + a trance. Do you hear? We must. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at his wife, and whatever he was going to add remained + unspoken. She was staring at him with her big, slanting eyes, that seemed + to him twice their natural size. The child, its dirty little face pressed + to its mother’s shoulder, was sleeping peacefully. The deep silence of the + house was not broken, but rather accentuated, by the low mutter of the + cockatoo, now very still on its perch. As Willems was looking at Joanna + her upper lip was drawn up on one side, giving to her melancholy face a + vicious expression altogether new to his experience. He stepped back in + his surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You great man!” she said distinctly, but in a voice that was hardly + above a whisper. + </p> + <p> + Those words, and still more her tone, stunned him as if somebody had fired + a gun close to his ear. He stared back at her stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you great man!” she repeated slowly, glancing right and left as if + meditating a sudden escape. “And you think that I am going to starve with + you. You are nobody now. You think my mamma and Leonard would let me go + away? And with you! With you,” she repeated scornfully, raising her voice, + which woke up the child and caused it to whimper feebly. + </p> + <p> + “Joanna!” exclaimed Willems. + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak to me. I have heard what I have waited for all these years. + You are less than dirt, you that have wiped your feet on me. I have waited + for this. I am not afraid now. I do not want you; do not come near me. + Ah-h!” she screamed shrilly, as he held out his hand in an entreating + gesture—“Ah! Keep off me! Keep off me! Keep off!” + </p> + <p> + She backed away, looking at him with eyes both angry and frightened. + Willems stared motionless, in dumb amazement at the mystery of anger and + revolt in the head of his wife. Why? What had he ever done to her? This + was the day of injustice indeed. First Hudig—and now his wife. He + felt a terror at this hate that had lived stealthily so near him for + years. He tried to speak, but she shrieked again, and it was like a needle + through his heart. Again he raised his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Help!” called Mrs. Willems, in a piercing voice. “Help!” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet! You fool!” shouted Willems, trying to drown the noise of his + wife and child in his own angry accents and rattling violently the little + zinc table in his exasperation. + </p> + <p> + From under the house, where there were bathrooms and a tool closet, + appeared Leonard, a rusty iron bar in his hand. He called threateningly + from the bottom of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Do not hurt her, Mr. Willems. You are a savage. Not at all like we, + whites.” + </p> + <p> + “You too!” said the bewildered Willems. “I haven’t touched her. Is this a + madhouse?” He moved towards the stairs, and Leonard dropped the bar with a + clang and made for the gate of the compound. Willems turned back to his + wife. + </p> + <p> + “So you expected this,” he said. “It is a conspiracy. Who’s that sobbing + and groaning in the room? Some more of your precious family. Hey?” + </p> + <p> + She was more calm now, and putting hastily the crying child in the big + chair walked towards him with sudden fearlessness. + </p> + <p> + “My mother,” she said, “my mother who came to defend me from you—man + from nowhere; a vagabond!” + </p> + <p> + “You did not call me a vagabond when you hung round my neck—before + we were married,” said Willems, contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “You took good care that I should not hang round your neck after we were,” + she answered, clenching her hands, and putting her face close to his. “You + boasted while I suffered and said nothing. What has become of your + greatness; of our greatness—you were always speaking about? Now I am + going to live on the charity of your master. Yes. That is true. He sent + Leonard to tell me so. And you will go and boast somewhere else, and + starve. So! Ah! I can breathe now! This house is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” said Willems, slowly, with an arresting gesture. + </p> + <p> + She leaped back, the fright again in her eyes, snatched up the child, + pressed it to her breast, and, falling into a chair, drummed insanely with + her heels on the resounding floor of the verandah. + </p> + <p> + “I shall go,” said Willems, steadily. “I thank you. For the first time in + your life you make me happy. You were a stone round my neck; you + understand. I did not mean to tell you that as long as you lived, but you + made me—now. Before I pass this gate you shall be gone from my mind. + You made it very easy. I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and went down the steps without giving her a glance, while she + sat upright and quiet, with wide-open eyes, the child crying querulously + in her arms. At the gate he came suddenly upon Leonard, who had been + dodging about there and failed to get out of the way in time. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be brutal, Mr. Willems,” said Leonard, hurriedly. “It is + unbecoming between white men with all those natives looking on.” Leonard’s + legs trembled very much, and his voice wavered between high and low tones + without any attempt at control on his part. “Restrain your improper + violence,” he went on mumbling rapidly. “I am a respectable man of very + good family, while you . . . it is regrettable . . . they all say so . . + .” + </p> + <p> + “What?” thundered Willems. He felt a sudden impulse of mad anger, and + before he knew what had happened he was looking at Leonard da Souza + rolling in the dust at his feet. He stepped over his prostrate + brother-in-law and tore blindly down the street, everybody making way for + the frantic white man. + </p> + <p> + When he came to himself he was beyond the outskirts of the town, stumbling + on the hard and cracked earth of reaped rice fields. How did he get there? + It was dark. He must get back. As he walked towards the town slowly, his + mind reviewed the events of the day and he felt a sense of bitter + loneliness. His wife had turned him out of his own house. He had assaulted + brutally his brother-in-law, a member of the Da Souza family—of that + band of his worshippers. He did. Well, no! It was some other man. Another + man was coming back. A man without a past, without a future, yet full of + pain and shame and anger. He stopped and looked round. A dog or two glided + across the empty street and rushed past him with a frightened snarl. He + was now in the midst of the Malay quarter whose bamboo houses, hidden in + the verdure of their little gardens, were dark and silent. Men, women and + children slept in there. Human beings. Would he ever sleep, and where? He + felt as if he was the outcast of all mankind, and as he looked hopelessly + round, before resuming his weary march, it seemed to him that the world + was bigger, the night more vast and more black; but he went on doggedly + with his head down as if pushing his way through some thick brambles. Then + suddenly he felt planks under his feet and, looking up, saw the red light + at the end of the jetty. He walked quite to the end and stood leaning + against the post, under the lamp, looking at the roadstead where two + vessels at anchor swayed their slender rigging amongst the stars. The end + of the jetty; and here in one step more the end of life; the end of + everything. Better so. What else could he do? Nothing ever comes back. He + saw it clearly. The respect and admiration of them all, the old habits and + old affections finished abruptly in the clear perception of the cause of + his disgrace. He saw all this; and for a time he came out of himself, out + of his selfishness—out of the constant preoccupation of his + interests and his desires—out of the temple of self and the + concentration of personal thought. + </p> + <p> + His thoughts now wandered home. Standing in the tepid stillness of a + starry tropical night he felt the breath of the bitter east wind, he saw + the high and narrow fronts of tall houses under the gloom of a clouded + sky; and on muddy quays he saw the shabby, high-shouldered figure—the + patient, faded face of the weary man earning bread for the children that + waited for him in a dingy home. It was miserable, miserable. But it would + never come back. What was there in common between those things and Willems + the clever, Willems the successful. He had cut himself adrift from that + home many years ago. Better for him then. Better for them now. All this + was gone, never to come back again; and suddenly he shivered, seeing + himself alone in the presence of unknown and terrible dangers. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in his life he felt afraid of the future, because he + had lost his faith, the faith in his own success. And he had destroyed it + foolishly with his own hands! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + His meditation which resembled slow drifting into suicide was interrupted + by Lingard, who, with a loud “I’ve got you at last!” dropped his hand + heavily on Willems’ shoulder. This time it was the old seaman himself + going out of his way to pick up the uninteresting waif—all that + there was left of that sudden and sordid shipwreck. To Willems, the rough, + friendly voice was a quick and fleeting relief followed by a sharper pang + of anger and unavailing regret. That voice carried him back to the + beginning of his promising career, the end of which was very visible now + from the jetty where they both stood. He shook himself free from the + friendly grasp, saying with ready bitterness— + </p> + <p> + “It’s all your fault. Give me a push now, do, and send me over. I have + been standing here waiting for help. You are the man—of all men. You + helped at the beginning; you ought to have a hand in the end.” + </p> + <p> + “I have better use for you than to throw you to the fishes,” said Lingard, + seriously, taking Willems by the arm and forcing him gently to walk up the + jetty. “I have been buzzing over this town like a bluebottle fly, looking + for you high and low. I have heard a lot. I will tell you what, Willems; + you are no saint, that’s a fact. And you have not been over-wise either. I + am not throwing stones,” he added, hastily, as Willems made an effort to + get away, “but I am not going to mince matters. Never could! You keep + quiet while I talk. Can’t you?” + </p> + <p> + With a gesture of resignation and a half-stifled groan Willems submitted + to the stronger will, and the two men paced slowly up and down the + resounding planks, while Lingard disclosed to Willems the exact manner of + his undoing. After the first shock Willems lost the faculty of surprise in + the over-powering feeling of indignation. So it was Vinck and Leonard who + had served him so. They had watched him, tracked his misdeeds, reported + them to Hudig. They had bribed obscure Chinamen, wormed out confidences + from tipsy skippers, got at various boatmen, and had pieced out in that + way the story of his irregularities. The blackness of this dark intrigue + filled him with horror. He could understand Vinck. There was no love lost + between them. But Leonard! Leonard! + </p> + <p> + “Why, Captain Lingard,” he burst out, “the fellow licked my boots.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, yes,” said Lingard, testily, “we know that, and you did your + best to cram your boot down his throat. No man likes that, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I was always giving money to all that hungry lot,” went on Willems, + passionately. “Always my hand in my pocket. They never had to ask twice.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. Your generosity frightened them. They asked themselves where all + that came from, and concluded that it was safer to throw you overboard. + After all, Hudig is a much greater man than you, my friend, and they have + a claim on him also.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Captain Lingard?” + </p> + <p> + “What do I mean?” repeated Lingard, slowly. “Why, you are not going to + make me believe you did not know your wife was Hudig’s daughter. Come + now!” + </p> + <p> + Willems stopped suddenly and swayed about. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I understand,” he gasped. “I never heard . . . Lately I thought there + was . . . But no, I never guessed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you simpleton!” said Lingard, pityingly. “‘Pon my word,” he muttered + to himself, “I don’t believe the fellow knew. Well! well! Steady now. Pull + yourself together. What’s wrong there. She is a good wife to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent wife,” said Willems, in a dreary voice, looking far over the + black and scintillating water. + </p> + <p> + “Very well then,” went on Lingard, with increasing friendliness. “Nothing + wrong there. But did you really think that Hudig was marrying you off and + giving you a house and I don’t know what, out of love for you?” + </p> + <p> + “I had served him well,” answered Willems. “How well, you know yourself—through + thick and thin. No matter what work and what risk, I was always there; + always ready.” + </p> + <p> + How well he saw the greatness of his work and the immensity of that + injustice which was his reward. She was that man’s daughter! + </p> + <p> + In the light of this disclosure the facts of the last five years of his + life stood clearly revealed in their full meaning. He had spoken first to + Joanna at the gate of their dwelling as he went to his work in the + brilliant flush of the early morning, when women and flowers are charming + even to the dullest eyes. A most respectable family—two women and a + young man—were his next-door neighbours. Nobody ever came to their + little house but the priest, a native from the Spanish islands, now and + then. The young man Leonard he had met in town, and was flattered by the + little fellow’s immense respect for the great Willems. He let him bring + chairs, call the waiters, chalk his cues when playing billiards, express + his admiration in choice words. He even condescended to listen patiently + to Leonard’s allusions to “our beloved father,” a man of official + position, a government agent in Koti, where he died of cholera, alas! a + victim to duty, like a good Catholic, and a good man. It sounded very + respectable, and Willems approved of those feeling references. Moreover, + he prided himself upon having no colour-prejudices and no racial + antipathies. He consented to drink curacoa one afternoon on the verandah + of Mrs. da Souza’s house. He remembered Joanna that day, swinging in a + hammock. She was untidy even then, he remembered, and that was the only + impression he carried away from that visit. He had no time for love in + those glorious days, no time even for a passing fancy, but gradually he + fell into the habit of calling almost every day at that little house where + he was greeted by Mrs. da Souza’s shrill voice screaming for Joanna to + come and entertain the gentleman from Hudig & Co. And then the sudden + and unexpected visit of the priest. He remembered the man’s flat, yellow + face, his thin legs, his propitiatory smile, his beaming black eyes, his + conciliating manner, his veiled hints which he did not understand at the + time. How he wondered what the man wanted, and how unceremoniously he got + rid of him. And then came vividly into his recollection the morning when + he met again that fellow coming out of Hudig’s office, and how he was + amused at the incongruous visit. And that morning with Hudig! Would he + ever forget it? Would he ever forget his surprise as the master, instead + of plunging at once into business, looked at him thoughtfully before + turning, with a furtive smile, to the papers on the desk? He could hear + him now, his nose in the paper before him, dropping astonishing words in + the intervals of wheezy breathing. + </p> + <p> + “Heard said . . . called there often . . . most respectable ladies . . . + knew the father very well . . . estimable . . . best thing for a young man + . . . settle down. . . . Personally, very glad to hear . . . thing + arranged. . . . Suitable recognition of valuable services. . . . Best + thing—best thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + And he believed! What credulity! What an ass! Hudig knew the father! + Rather. And so did everybody else probably; all except himself. How proud + he had been of Hudig’s benevolent interest in his fate! How proud he was + when invited by Hudig to stay with him at his little house in the country—where + he could meet men, men of official position—as a friend. Vinck had + been green with envy. Oh, yes! He had believed in the best thing, and took + the girl like a gift of fortune. How he boasted to Hudig of being free + from prejudices. The old scoundrel must have been laughing in his sleeve + at his fool of a confidential clerk. He took the girl, guessing nothing. + How could he? There had been a father of some kind to the common + knowledge. Men knew him; spoke about him. A lank man of hopelessly mixed + descent, but otherwise—apparently—unobjectionable. The shady + relations came out afterward, but—with his freedom from prejudices—he + did not mind them, because, with their humble dependence, they completed + his triumphant life. Taken in! taken in! Hudig had found an easy way to + provide for the begging crowd. He had shifted the burden of his youthful + vagaries on to the shoulders of his confidential clerk; and while he + worked for the master, the master had cheated him; had stolen his very + self from him. He was married. He belonged to that woman, no matter what + she might do! . . . Had sworn . . . for all life! . . . Thrown himself + away. . . . And that man dared this very morning call him a thief! + Damnation! + </p> + <p> + “Let go, Lingard!” he shouted, trying to get away by a sudden jerk from + the watchful old seaman. “Let me go and kill that . . .” + </p> + <p> + “No you don’t!” panted Lingard, hanging on manfully. “You want to kill, do + you? You lunatic. Ah!—I’ve got you now! Be quiet, I say!” + </p> + <p> + They struggled violently, Lingard forcing Willems slowly towards the + guard-rail. Under their feet the jetty sounded like a drum in the quiet + night. On the shore end the native caretaker of the wharf watched the + combat, squatting behind the safe shelter of some big cases. The next day + he informed his friends, with calm satisfaction, that two drunken white + men had fought on the jetty. + </p> + <p> + It had been a great fight. They fought without arms, like wild beasts, + after the manner of white men. No! nobody was killed, or there would have + been trouble and a report to make. How could he know why they fought? + White men have no reason when they are like that. + </p> + <p> + Just as Lingard was beginning to fear that he would be unable to restrain + much longer the violence of the younger man, he felt Willems’ muscles + relaxing, and took advantage of this opportunity to pin him, by a last + effort, to the rail. They both panted heavily, speechless, their faces + very close. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” muttered Willems at last. “Don’t break my back over this + infernal rail. I will be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you are reasonable,” said Lingard, much relieved. “What made you fly + into that passion?” he asked, leading him back to the end of the jetty, + and, still holding him prudently with one hand, he fumbled with the other + for his whistle and blew a shrill and prolonged blast. Over the smooth + water of the roadstead came in answer a faint cry from one of the ships at + anchor. + </p> + <p> + “My boat will be here directly,” said Lingard. “Think of what you are + going to do. I sail to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “What is there for me to do, except one thing?” said Willems, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Lingard; “I picked you up as a boy, and consider myself + responsible for you in a way. You took your life into your own hands many + years ago—but still . . .” + </p> + <p> + He paused, listening, till he heard the regular grind of the oars in the + rowlocks of the approaching boat then went on again. + </p> + <p> + “I have made it all right with Hudig. You owe him nothing now. Go back to + your wife. She is a good woman. Go back to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Captain Lingard,” exclaimed Willems, “she . . .” + </p> + <p> + “It was most affecting,” went on Lingard, without heeding him. “I went to + your house to look for you and there I saw her despair. It was + heart-breaking. She called for you; she entreated me to find you. She + spoke wildly, poor woman, as if all this was her fault.” + </p> + <p> + Willems listened amazed. The blind old idiot! How queerly he + misunderstood! But if it was true, if it was even true, the very idea of + seeing her filled his soul with intense loathing. He did not break his + oath, but he would not go back to her. Let hers be the sin of that + separation; of the sacred bond broken. He revelled in the extreme purity + of his heart, and he would not go back to her. Let her come back to him. + He had the comfortable conviction that he would never see her again, and + that through her own fault only. In this conviction he told himself + solemnly that if she would come to him he would receive her with generous + forgiveness, because such was the praiseworthy solidity of his principles. + But he hesitated whether he would or would not disclose to Lingard the + revolting completeness of his humiliation. Turned out of his house—and + by his wife; that woman who hardly dared to breathe in his presence, + yesterday. He remained perplexed and silent. No. He lacked the courage to + tell the ignoble story. + </p> + <p> + As the boat of the brig appeared suddenly on the black water close to the + jetty, Lingard broke the painful silence. + </p> + <p> + “I always thought,” he said, sadly, “I always thought you were somewhat + heartless, Willems, and apt to cast adrift those that thought most of you. + I appeal to what is best in you; do not abandon that woman.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not abandoned her,” answered Willems, quickly, with conscious + truthfulness. “Why should I? As you so justly observed, she has been a + good wife to me. A very good, quiet, obedient, loving wife, and I love her + as much as she loves me. Every bit. But as to going back now, to that + place where I . . . To walk again amongst those men who yesterday were + ready to crawl before me, and then feel on my back the sting of their + pitying or satisfied smiles—no! I can’t. I would rather hide from + them at the bottom of the sea,” he went on, with resolute energy. “I don’t + think, Captain Lingard,” he added, more quietly, “I don’t think that you + realize what my position was there.” + </p> + <p> + In a wide sweep of his hand he took in the sleeping shore from north to + south, as if wishing it a proud and threatening good-bye. For a short + moment he forgot his downfall in the recollection of his brilliant + triumphs. Amongst the men of his class and occupation who slept in those + dark houses he had been indeed the first. + </p> + <p> + “It is hard,” muttered Lingard, pensively. “But whose the fault? Whose the + fault?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lingard!” cried Willems, under the sudden impulse of a felicitous + inspiration, “if you leave me here on this jetty—it’s murder. I + shall never return to that place alive, wife or no wife. You may just as + well cut my throat at once.” + </p> + <p> + The old seaman started. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t try to frighten me, Willems,” he said, with great severity, and + paused. + </p> + <p> + Above the accents of Willems’ brazen despair he heard, with considerable + uneasiness, the whisper of his own absurd conscience. He meditated for + awhile with an irresolute air. + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you to go and drown yourself, and be damned to you,” he + said, with an unsuccessful assumption of brutality in his manner, “but I + won’t. We are responsible for one another—worse luck. I am almost + ashamed of myself, but I can understand your dirty pride. I can! By . . .” + </p> + <p> + He broke off with a loud sigh and walked briskly to the steps, at the + bottom of which lay his boat, rising and falling gently on the slight and + invisible swell. + </p> + <p> + “Below there! Got a lamp in the boat? Well, light it and bring it up, one + of you. Hurry now!” + </p> + <p> + He tore out a page of his pocketbook, moistened his pencil with great + energy and waited, stamping his feet impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I will see this thing through,” he muttered to himself. “And I will have + it all square and ship-shape; see if I don’t! Are you going to bring that + lamp, you son of a crippled mud-turtle? I am waiting.” + </p> + <p> + The gleam of the light on the paper placated his professional anger, and + he wrote rapidly, the final dash of his signature curling the paper up in + a triangular tear. + </p> + <p> + “Take that to this white Tuan’s house. I will send the boat back for you + in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + The coxswain raised his lamp deliberately to Willem’s face. + </p> + <p> + “This Tuan? Tau! I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Quick then!” said Lingard, taking the lamp from him—and the man + went off at a run. + </p> + <p> + “Kassi mem! To the lady herself,” called Lingard after him. + </p> + <p> + Then, when the man disappeared, he turned to Willems. + </p> + <p> + “I have written to your wife,” he said. “If you do not return for good, + you do not go back to that house only for another parting. You must come + as you stand. I won’t have that poor woman tormented. I will see to it + that you are not separated for long. Trust me!” + </p> + <p> + Willems shivered, then smiled in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that,” he muttered, enigmatically. “I trust you implicitly, + Captain Lingard,” he added, in a louder tone. + </p> + <p> + Lingard led the way down the steps, swinging the lamp and speaking over + his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “It is the second time, Willems, I take you in hand. Mind it is the last. + The second time; and the only difference between then and now is that you + were bare-footed then and have boots now. In fourteen years. With all your + smartness! A poor result that. A very poor result.” + </p> + <p> + He stood for awhile on the lowest platform of the steps, the light of the + lamp falling on the upturned face of the stroke oar, who held the gunwale + of the boat close alongside, ready for the captain to step in. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he went on, argumentatively, fumbling about the top of the + lamp, “you got yourself so crooked amongst those ‘longshore quill-drivers + that you could not run clear in any way. That’s what comes of such talk as + yours, and of such a life. A man sees so much falsehood that he begins to + lie to himself. Pah!” he said, in disgust, “there’s only one place for an + honest man. The sea, my boy, the sea! But you never would; didn’t think + there was enough money in it; and now—look!” + </p> + <p> + He blew the light out, and, stepping into the boat, stretched quickly his + hand towards Willems, with friendly care. Willems sat by him in silence, + and the boat shoved off, sweeping in a wide circle towards the brig. + </p> + <p> + “Your compassion is all for my wife, Captain Lingard,” said Willems, + moodily. “Do you think I am so very happy?” + </p> + <p> + “No! no!” said Lingard, heartily. “Not a word more shall pass my lips. I + had to speak my mind once, seeing that I knew you from a child, so to + speak. And now I shall forget; but you are young yet. Life is very long,” + he went on, with unconscious sadness; “let this be a lesson to you.” + </p> + <p> + He laid his hand affectionately on Willems’ shoulder, and they both sat + silent till the boat came alongside the ship’s ladder. + </p> + <p> + When on board Lingard gave orders to his mate, and leading Willems on the + poop, sat on the breech of one of the brass six-pounders with which his + vessel was armed. The boat went off again to bring back the messenger. As + soon as it was seen returning dark forms appeared on the brig’s spars; + then the sails fell in festoons with a swish of their heavy folds, and + hung motionless under the yards in the dead calm of the clear and dewy + night. From the forward end came the clink of the windlass, and soon + afterwards the hail of the chief mate informing Lingard that the cable was + hove short. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on everything,” hailed back Lingard; “we must wait for the + land-breeze before we let go our hold of the ground.” + </p> + <p> + He approached Willems, who sat on the skylight, his body bent down, his + head low, and his hands hanging listlessly between his knees. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to take you to Sambir,” he said. “You’ve never heard of the + place, have you? Well, it’s up that river of mine about which people talk + so much and know so little. I’ve found out the entrance for a ship of + Flash’s size. It isn’t easy. You’ll see. I will show you. You have been at + sea long enough to take an interest. . . . Pity you didn’t stick to it. + Well, I am going there. I have my own trading post in the place. Almayer + is my partner. You knew him when he was at Hudig’s. Oh, he lives there as + happy as a king. D’ye see, I have them all in my pocket. The rajah is an + old friend of mine. My word is law—and I am the only trader. No + other white man but Almayer had ever been in that settlement. You will + live quietly there till I come back from my next cruise to the westward. + We shall see then what can be done for you. Never fear. I have no doubt my + secret will be safe with you. Keep mum about my river when you get amongst + the traders again. There’s many would give their ears for the knowledge of + it. I’ll tell you something: that’s where I get all my guttah and rattans. + Simply inexhaustible, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + While Lingard spoke Willems looked up quickly, but soon his head fell on + his breast in the discouraging certitude that the knowledge he and Hudig + had wished for so much had come to him too late. He sat in a listless + attitude. + </p> + <p> + “You will help Almayer in his trading if you have a heart for it,” + continued Lingard, “just to kill time till I come back for you. Only six + weeks or so.” + </p> + <p> + Over their heads the damp sails fluttered noisily in the first faint puff + of the breeze; then, as the airs freshened, the brig tended to the wind, + and the silenced canvas lay quietly aback. The mate spoke with low + distinctness from the shadows of the quarter-deck. + </p> + <p> + “There’s the breeze. Which way do you want to cast her, Captain Lingard?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard’s eyes, that had been fixed aloft, glanced down at the dejected + figure of the man sitting on the skylight. He seemed to hesitate for a + minute. + </p> + <p> + “To the northward, to the northward,” he answered, testily, as if annoyed + at his own fleeting thought, “and bear a hand there. Every puff of wind is + worth money in these seas.” + </p> + <p> + He remained motionless, listening to the rattle of blocks and the creaking + of trusses as the head-yards were hauled round. Sail was made on the ship + and the windlass manned again while he stood still, lost in thought. He + only roused himself when a barefooted seacannie glided past him silently + on his way to the wheel. + </p> + <p> + “Put the helm aport! Hard over!” he said, in his harsh sea-voice, to the + man whose face appeared suddenly out of the darkness in the circle of + light thrown upwards from the binnacle lamps. + </p> + <p> + The anchor was secured, the yards trimmed, and the brig began to move out + of the roadstead. The sea woke up under the push of the sharp cutwater, + and whispered softly to the gliding craft in that tender and rippling + murmur in which it speaks sometimes to those it nurses and loves. Lingard + stood by the taff-rail listening, with a pleased smile till the Flash + began to draw close to the only other vessel in the anchorage. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Willems,” he said, calling him to his side, “d’ye see that barque + here? That’s an Arab vessel. White men have mostly given up the game, but + this fellow drops in my wake often, and lives in hopes of cutting me out + in that settlement. Not while I live, I trust. You see, Willems, I brought + prosperity to that place. I composed their quarrels, and saw them grow + under my eyes. There’s peace and happiness there. I am more master there + than his Dutch Excellency down in Batavia ever will be when some day a + lazy man-of-war blunders at last against the river. I mean to keep the + Arabs out of it, with their lies and their intrigues. I shall keep the + venomous breed out, if it costs me my fortune.” + </p> + <p> + The Flash drew quietly abreast of the barque, and was beginning to drop it + astern when a white figure started up on the poop of the Arab vessel, and + a voice called out— + </p> + <p> + “Greeting to the Rajah Laut!” + </p> + <p> + “To you greeting!” answered Lingard, after a moment of hesitating + surprise. Then he turned to Willems with a grim smile. “That’s Abdulla’s + voice,” he said. “Mighty civil all of a sudden, isn’t he? I wonder what it + means. Just like his impudence! No matter! His civility or his impudence + are all one to me. I know that this fellow will be under way and after me + like a shot. I don’t care! I have the heels of anything that floats in + these seas,” he added, while his proud and loving glance ran over and + rested fondly amongst the brig’s lofty and graceful spars. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + “It was the writing on his forehead,” said Babalatchi, adding a couple of + small sticks to the little fire by which he was squatting, and without + looking at Lakamba who lay down supported on his elbow on the other side + of the embers. “It was written when he was born that he should end his + life in darkness, and now he is like a man walking in a black night—with + his eyes open, yet seeing not. I knew him well when he had slaves, and + many wives, and much merchandise, and trading praus, and praus for + fighting. Hai—ya! He was a great fighter in the days before the + breath of the Merciful put out the light in his eyes. He was a pilgrim, + and had many virtues: he was brave, his hand was open, and he was a great + robber. For many years he led the men that drank blood on the sea: first + in prayer and first in fight! Have I not stood behind him when his face + was turned to the West? Have I not watched by his side ships with high + masts burning in a straight flame on the calm water? Have I not followed + him on dark nights amongst sleeping men that woke up only to die? His + sword was swifter than the fire from Heaven, and struck before it flashed. + Hai! Tuan! Those were the days and that was a leader, and I myself was + younger; and in those days there were not so many fireships with guns that + deal fiery death from afar. Over the hill and over the forest—O! + Tuan Lakamba! they dropped whistling fireballs into the creek where our + praus took refuge, and where they dared not follow men who had arms in + their hands.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head with mournful regret and threw another handful of fuel + on the fire. The burst of clear flame lit up his broad, dark, and + pock-marked face, where the big lips, stained with betel-juice, looked + like a deep and bleeding gash of a fresh wound. The reflection of the + firelight gleamed brightly in his solitary eye, lending it for a moment a + fierce animation that died out together with the short-lived flame. With + quick touches of his bare hands he raked the embers into a heap, then, + wiping the warm ash on his waistcloth—his only garment—he + clasped his thin legs with his entwined fingers, and rested his chin on + his drawn-up knees. Lakamba stirred slightly without changing his position + or taking his eyes off the glowing coals, on which they had been fixed in + dreamy immobility. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” went on Babalatchi, in a low monotone, as if pursuing aloud a train + of thought that had its beginning in the silent contemplation of the + unstable nature of earthly greatness—“yes. He has been rich and + strong, and now he lives on alms: old, feeble, blind, and without + companions, but for his daughter. The Rajah Patalolo gives him rice, and + the pale woman—his daughter—cooks it for him, for he has no + slave.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw her from afar,” muttered Lakamba, disparagingly. “A she-dog with + white teeth, like a woman of the Orang-Putih.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, right,” assented Babalatchi; “but you have not seen her near. Her + mother was a woman from the west; a Baghdadi woman with veiled face. Now + she goes uncovered, like our women do, for she is poor and he is blind, + and nobody ever comes near them unless to ask for a charm or a blessing + and depart quickly for fear of his anger and of the Rajah’s hand. You have + not been on that side of the river?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for a long time. If I go . . .” + </p> + <p> + “True! true!” interrupted Babalatchi, soothingly, “but I go often alone—for + your good—and look—and listen. When the time comes; when we + both go together towards the Rajah’s campong, it will be to enter—and + to remain.” + </p> + <p> + Lakamba sat up and looked at Babalatchi gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “This is good talk, once, twice; when it is heard too often it becomes + foolish, like the prattle of children.” + </p> + <p> + “Many, many times have I seen the cloudy sky and have heard the wind of + the rainy seasons,” said Babalatchi, impressively. + </p> + <p> + “And where is your wisdom? It must be with the wind and the clouds of + seasons past, for I do not hear it in your talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Those are the words of the ungrateful!” shouted Babalatchi, with sudden + exasperation. “Verily, our only refuge is with the One, the Mighty, the + Redresser of . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Peace! Peace!” growled the startled Lakamba. “It is but a friend’s talk.” + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi subsided into his former attitude, muttering to himself. After + awhile he went on again in a louder voice— + </p> + <p> + “Since the Rajah Laut left another white man here in Sambir, the daughter + of the blind Omar el Badavi has spoken to other ears than mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Would a white man listen to a beggar’s daughter?” said Lakamba, + doubtingly. + </p> + <p> + “Hai! I have seen . . .” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you see? O one-eyed one!” exclaimed Lakamba, contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen the strange white man walking on the narrow path before the + sun could dry the drops of dew on the bushes, and I have heard the whisper + of his voice when he spoke through the smoke of the morning fire to that + woman with big eyes and a pale skin. Woman in body, but in heart a man! + She knows no fear and no shame. I have heard her voice too.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded twice at Lakamba sagaciously and gave himself up to silent + musing, his solitary eye fixed immovably upon the straight wall of forest + on the opposite bank. Lakamba lay silent, staring vacantly. Under them + Lingard’s own river rippled softly amongst the piles supporting the bamboo + platform of the little watch-house before which they were lying. Behind + the house the ground rose in a gentle swell of a low hill cleared of the + big timber, but thickly overgrown with the grass and bushes, now withered + and burnt up in the long drought of the dry season. This old rice + clearing, which had been several years lying fallow, was framed on three + sides by the impenetrable and tangled growth of the untouched forest, and + on the fourth came down to the muddy river bank. There was not a breath of + wind on the land or river, but high above, in the transparent sky, little + clouds rushed past the moon, now appearing in her diffused rays with the + brilliance of silver, now obscuring her face with the blackness of ebony. + Far away, in the middle of the river, a fish would leap now and then with + a short splash, the very loudness of which measured the profundity of the + overpowering silence that swallowed up the sharp sound suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Lakamba dozed uneasily off, but the wakeful Babalatchi sat thinking + deeply, sighing from time to time, and slapping himself over his naked + torso incessantly in a vain endeavour to keep off an occasional and + wandering mosquito that, rising as high as the platform above the swarms + of the riverside, would settle with a ping of triumph on the unexpected + victim. The moon, pursuing her silent and toilsome path, attained her + highest elevation, and chasing the shadow of the roof-eaves from Lakamba’s + face, seemed to hang arrested over their heads. Babalatchi revived the + fire and woke up his companion, who sat up yawning and shivering + discontentedly. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi spoke again in a voice which was like the murmur of a brook + that runs over the stones: low, monotonous, persistent; irresistible in + its power to wear out and to destroy the hardest obstacles. Lakamba + listened, silent but interested. They were Malay adventurers; ambitious + men of that place and time; the Bohemians of their race. In the early days + of the settlement, before the ruler Patalolo had shaken off his allegiance + to the Sultan of Koti, Lakamba appeared in the river with two small + trading vessels. He was disappointed to find already some semblance of + organization amongst the settlers of various races who recognized the + unobtrusive sway of old Patalolo, and he was not politic enough to conceal + his disappointment. He declared himself to be a man from the east, from + those parts where no white man ruled, and to be of an oppressed race, but + of a princely family. And truly enough he had all the gifts of an exiled + prince. He was discontented, ungrateful, turbulent; a man full of envy and + ready for intrigue, with brave words and empty promises for ever on his + lips. He was obstinate, but his will was made up of short impulses that + never lasted long enough to carry him to the goal of his ambition. + Received coldly by the suspicious Patalolo, he persisted—permission + or no permission—in clearing the ground on a good spot some fourteen + miles down the river from Sambir, and built himself a house there, which + he fortified by a high palisade. As he had many followers and seemed very + reckless, the old Rajah did not think it prudent at the time to interfere + with him by force. Once settled, he began to intrigue. The quarrel of + Patalolo with the Sultan of Koti was of his fomenting, but failed to + produce the result he expected because the Sultan could not back him up + effectively at such a great distance. Disappointed in that scheme, he + promptly organized an outbreak of the Bugis settlers, and besieged the old + Rajah in his stockade with much noisy valour and a fair chance of success; + but Lingard then appeared on the scene with the armed brig, and the old + seaman’s hairy forefinger, shaken menacingly in his face, quelled his + martial ardour. No man cared to encounter the Rajah Laut, and Lakamba, + with momentary resignation, subsided into a half-cultivator, half-trader, + and nursed in his fortified house his wrath and his ambition, keeping it + for use on a more propitious occasion. Still faithful to his character of + a prince-pretender, he would not recognize the constituted authorities, + answering sulkily the Rajah’s messenger, who claimed the tribute for the + cultivated fields, that the Rajah had better come and take it himself. By + Lingard’s advice he was left alone, notwithstanding his rebellious mood; + and for many days he lived undisturbed amongst his wives and retainers, + cherishing that persistent and causeless hope of better times, the + possession of which seems to be the universal privilege of exiled + greatness. + </p> + <p> + But the passing days brought no change. The hope grew faint and the hot + ambition burnt itself out, leaving only a feeble and expiring spark + amongst a heap of dull and tepid ashes of indolent acquiescence with the + decrees of Fate, till Babalatchi fanned it again into a bright flame. + Babalatchi had blundered upon the river while in search of a safe refuge + for his disreputable head. + </p> + <p> + He was a vagabond of the seas, a true Orang-Laut, living by rapine and + plunder of coasts and ships in his prosperous days; earning his living by + honest and irksome toil when the days of adversity were upon him. So, + although at times leading the Sulu rovers, he had also served as Serang of + country ships, and in that wise had visited the distant seas, beheld the + glories of Bombay, the might of the Mascati Sultan; had even struggled in + a pious throng for the privilege of touching with his lips the Sacred + Stone of the Holy City. He gathered experience and wisdom in many lands, + and after attaching himself to Omar el Badavi, he affected great piety (as + became a pilgrim), although unable to read the inspired words of the + Prophet. He was brave and bloodthirsty without any affection, and he hated + the white men who interfered with the manly pursuits of throat-cutting, + kidnapping, slave-dealing, and fire-raising, that were the only possible + occupation for a true man of the sea. He found favour in the eyes of his + chief, the fearless Omar el Badavi, the leader of Brunei rovers, whom he + followed with unquestioning loyalty through the long years of successful + depredation. And when that long career of murder, robbery and violence + received its first serious check at the hands of white men, he stood + faithfully by his chief, looked steadily at the bursting shells, was + undismayed by the flames of the burning stronghold, by the death of his + companions, by the shrieks of their women, the wailing of their children; + by the sudden ruin and destruction of all that he deemed indispensable to + a happy and glorious existence. The beaten ground between the houses was + slippery with blood, and the dark mangroves of the muddy creeks were full + of sighs of the dying men who were stricken down before they could see + their enemy. They died helplessly, for into the tangled forest there was + no escape, and their swift praus, in which they had so often scoured the + coast and the seas, now wedged together in the narrow creek, were burning + fiercely. Babalatchi, with the clear perception of the coming end, devoted + all his energies to saving if it was but only one of them. He succeeded in + time. When the end came in the explosion of the stored powder-barrels, he + was ready to look for his chief. He found him half dead and totally + blinded, with nobody near him but his daughter Aissa:—the sons had + fallen earlier in the day, as became men of their courage. Helped by the + girl with the steadfast heart, Babalatchi carried Omar on board the light + prau and succeeded in escaping, but with very few companions only. As they + hauled their craft into the network of dark and silent creeks, they could + hear the cheering of the crews of the man-of-war’s boats dashing to the + attack of the rover’s village. Aissa, sitting on the high after-deck, her + father’s blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked up with fearless + eyes at Babalatchi. “They shall find only smoke, blood and dead men, and + women mad with fear there, but nothing else living,” she said, mournfully. + Babalatchi, pressing with his right hand the deep gash on his shoulder, + answered sadly: “They are very strong. When we fight with them we can only + die. Yet,” he added, menacingly—“some of us still live! Some of us + still live!” + </p> + <p> + For a short time he dreamed of vengeance, but his dream was dispelled by + the cold reception of the Sultan of Sulu, with whom they sought refuge at + first and who gave them only a contemptuous and grudging hospitality. + While Omar, nursed by Aissa, was recovering from his wounds, Babalatchi + attended industriously before the exalted Presence that had extended to + them the hand of Protection. For all that, when Babalatchi spoke into the + Sultan’s ear certain proposals of a great and profitable raid, that was to + sweep the islands from Ternate to Acheen, the Sultan was very angry. “I + know you, you men from the west,” he exclaimed, angrily. “Your words are + poison in a Ruler’s ears. Your talk is of fire and murder and booty—but + on our heads falls the vengeance of the blood you drink. Begone!” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to be done. Times were changed. So changed that, when a + Spanish frigate appeared before the island and a demand was sent to the + Sultan to deliver Omar and his companions, Babalatchi was not surprised to + hear that they were going to be made the victims of political expediency. + But from that sane appreciation of danger to tame submission was a very + long step. And then began Omar’s second flight. It began arms in hand, for + the little band had to fight in the night on the beach for the possession + of the small canoes in which those that survived got away at last. The + story of that escape lives in the hearts of brave men even to this day. + They talk of Babalatchi and of the strong woman who carried her blind + father through the surf under the fire of the warship from the north. The + companions of that piratical and son-less Aeneas are dead now, but their + ghosts wander over the waters and the islands at night—after the + manner of ghosts—and haunt the fires by which sit armed men, as is + meet for the spirits of fearless warriors who died in battle. There they + may hear the story of their own deeds, of their own courage, suffering and + death, on the lips of living men. That story is told in many places. On + the cool mats in breezy verandahs of Rajahs’ houses it is alluded to + disdainfully by impassive statesmen, but amongst armed men that throng the + courtyards it is a tale which stills the murmur of voices and the tinkle + of anklets; arrests the passage of the siri-vessel, and fixes the eyes in + absorbed gaze. They talk of the fight, of the fearless woman, of the wise + man; of long suffering on the thirsty sea in leaky canoes; of those who + died. . . . Many died. A few survived. The chief, the woman, and another + one who became great. + </p> + <p> + There was no hint of incipient greatness in Babalatchi’s unostentatious + arrival in Sambir. He came with Omar and Aissa in a small prau loaded with + green cocoanuts, and claimed the ownership of both vessel and cargo. How + it came to pass that Babalatchi, fleeing for his life in a small canoe, + managed to end his hazardous journey in a vessel full of a valuable + commodity, is one of those secrets of the sea that baffle the most + searching inquiry. In truth nobody inquired much. There were rumours of a + missing trading prau belonging to Menado, but they were vague and remained + mysterious. Babalatchi told a story which—it must be said in justice + to Patalolo’s knowledge of the world—was not believed. When the + Rajah ventured to state his doubts, Babalatchi asked him in tones of calm + remonstrance whether he could reasonably suppose that two oldish men—who + had only one eye amongst them—and a young woman were likely to gain + possession of anything whatever by violence? Charity was a virtue + recommended by the Prophet. There were charitable people, and their hand + was open to the deserving. Patalolo wagged his aged head doubtingly, and + Babalatchi withdrew with a shocked mien and put himself forthwith under + Lakamba’s protection. The two men who completed the prau’s crew followed + him into that magnate’s campong. The blind Omar, with Aissa, remained + under the care of the Rajah, and the Rajah confiscated the cargo. The prau + hauled up on the mud-bank, at the junction of the two branches of the + Pantai, rotted in the rain, warped in the sun, fell to pieces and + gradually vanished into the smoke of household fires of the settlement. + Only a forgotten plank and a rib or two, sticking neglected in the shiny + ooze for a long time, served to remind Babalatchi during many months that + he was a stranger in the land. + </p> + <p> + Otherwise, he felt perfectly at home in Lakamba’s establishment, where his + peculiar position and influence were quickly recognized and soon submitted + to even by the women. He had all a true vagabond’s pliability to + circumstances and adaptiveness to momentary surroundings. In his readiness + to learn from experience that contempt for early principles so necessary + to a true statesman, he equalled the most successful politicians of any + age; and he had enough persuasiveness and firmness of purpose to acquire a + complete mastery over Lakamba’s vacillating mind—where there was + nothing stable but an all-pervading discontent. He kept the discontent + alive, he rekindled the expiring ambition, he moderated the poor exile’s + not unnatural impatience to attain a high and lucrative position. He—the + man of violence—deprecated the use of force, for he had a clear + comprehension of the difficult situation. From the same cause, he—the + hater of white men—would to some extent admit the eventual + expediency of Dutch protection. But nothing should be done in a hurry. + Whatever his master Lakamba might think, there was no use in poisoning old + Patalolo, he maintained. It could be done, of course; but what then? As + long as Lingard’s influence was paramount—as long as Almayer, + Lingard’s representative, was the only great trader of the settlement, it + was not worth Lakamba’s while—even if it had been possible—to + grasp the rule of the young state. Killing Almayer and Lingard was so + difficult and so risky that it might be dismissed as impracticable. What + was wanted was an alliance; somebody to set up against the white men’s + influence—and somebody who, while favourable to Lakamba, would at + the same time be a person of a good standing with the Dutch authorities. A + rich and considered trader was wanted. Such a person once firmly + established in Sambir would help them to oust the old Rajah, to remove him + from power or from life if there was no other way. Then it would be time + to apply to the Orang Blanda for a flag; for a recognition of their + meritorious services; for that protection which would make them safe for + ever! The word of a rich and loyal trader would mean something with the + Ruler down in Batavia. The first thing to do was to find such an ally and + to induce him to settle in Sambir. A white trader would not do. A white + man would not fall in with their ideas—would not be trustworthy. The + man they wanted should be rich, unscrupulous, have many followers, and be + a well-known personality in the islands. Such a man might be found amongst + the Arab traders. Lingard’s jealousy, said Babalatchi, kept all the + traders out of the river. Some were afraid, and some did not know how to + get there; others ignored the very existence of Sambir; a good many did + not think it worth their while to run the risk of Lingard’s enmity for the + doubtful advantage of trade with a comparatively unknown settlement. The + great majority were undesirable or untrustworthy. And Babalatchi mentioned + regretfully the men he had known in his young days: wealthy, resolute, + courageous, reckless, ready for any enterprise! But why lament the past + and speak about the dead? There is one man—living—great—not + far off . . . + </p> + <p> + Such was Babalatchi’s line of policy laid before his ambitious protector. + Lakamba assented, his only objection being that it was very slow work. In + his extreme desire to grasp dollars and power, the unintellectual exile + was ready to throw himself into the arms of any wandering cut-throat whose + help could be secured, and Babalatchi experienced great difficulty in + restraining him from unconsidered violence. It would not do to let it be + seen that they had any hand in introducing a new element into the social + and political life of Sambir. There was always a possibility of failure, + and in that case Lingard’s vengeance would be swift and certain. No risk + should be run. They must wait. + </p> + <p> + Meantime he pervaded the settlement, squatting in the course of each day + by many household fires, testing the public temper and public opinion—and + always talking about his impending departure. + </p> + <p> + At night he would often take Lakamba’s smallest canoe and depart silently + to pay mysterious visits to his old chief on the other side of the river. + Omar lived in odour of sanctity under the wing of Patalolo. Between the + bamboo fence, enclosing the houses of the Rajah, and the wild forest, + there was a banana plantation, and on its further edge stood two little + houses built on low piles under a few precious fruit trees that grew on + the banks of a clear brook, which, bubbling up behind the house, ran in + its short and rapid course down to the big river. Along the brook a narrow + path led through the dense second growth of a neglected clearing to the + banana plantation and to the houses in it which the Rajah had given for + residence to Omar. The Rajah was greatly impressed by Omar’s ostentatious + piety, by his oracular wisdom, by his many misfortunes, by the solemn + fortitude with which he bore his affliction. Often the old ruler of Sambir + would visit informally the blind Arab and listen gravely to his talk + during the hot hours of an afternoon. In the night, Babalatchi would call + and interrupt Omar’s repose, unrebuked. Aissa, standing silently at the + door of one of the huts, could see the two old friends as they sat very + still by the fire in the middle of the beaten ground between the two + houses, talking in an indistinct murmur far into the night. She could not + hear their words, but she watched the two formless shadows curiously. + Finally Babalatchi would rise and, taking her father by the wrist, would + lead him back to the house, arrange his mats for him, and go out quietly. + Instead of going away, Babalatchi, unconscious of Aissa’s eyes, often sat + again by the fire, in a long and deep meditation. Aissa looked with + respect on that wise and brave man—she was accustomed to see at her + father’s side as long as she could remember—sitting alone and + thoughtful in the silent night by the dying fire, his body motionless and + his mind wandering in the land of memories, or—who knows?—perhaps + groping for a road in the waste spaces of the uncertain future. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi noted the arrival of Willems with alarm at this new accession + to the white men’s strength. Afterwards he changed his opinion. He met + Willems one night on the path leading to Omar’s house, and noticed later + on, with only a moderate surprise, that the blind Arab did not seem to be + aware of the new white man’s visits to the neighbourhood of his dwelling. + Once, coming unexpectedly in the daytime, Babalatchi fancied he could see + the gleam of a white jacket in the bushes on the other side of the brook. + That day he watched Aissa pensively as she moved about preparing the + evening rice; but after awhile he went hurriedly away before sunset, + refusing Omar’s hospitable invitation, in the name of Allah, to share + their meal. That same evening he startled Lakamba by announcing that the + time had come at last to make the first move in their long-deferred game. + Lakamba asked excitedly for explanation. Babalatchi shook his head and + pointed to the flitting shadows of moving women and to the vague forms of + men sitting by the evening fires in the courtyard. Not a word would he + speak here, he declared. But when the whole household was reposing, + Babalatchi and Lakamba passed silent amongst sleeping groups to the + riverside, and, taking a canoe, paddled off stealthily on their way to the + dilapidated guard-hut in the old rice-clearing. There they were safe from + all eyes and ears, and could account, if need be, for their excursion by + the wish to kill a deer, the spot being well known as the drinking-place + of all kinds of game. In the seclusion of its quiet solitude Babalatchi + explained his plan to the attentive Lakamba. His idea was to make use of + Willems for the destruction of Lingard’s influence. + </p> + <p> + “I know the white men, Tuan,” he said, in conclusion. “In many lands have + I seen them; always the slaves of their desires, always ready to give up + their strength and their reason into the hands of some woman. The fate of + the Believers is written by the hand of the Mighty One, but they who + worship many gods are thrown into the world with smooth foreheads, for any + woman’s hand to mark their destruction there. Let one white man destroy + another. The will of the Most High is that they should be fools. They know + how to keep faith with their enemies, but towards each other they know + only deception. Hai! I have seen! I have seen!” + </p> + <p> + He stretched himself full length before the fire, and closed his eye in + real or simulated sleep. Lakamba, not quite convinced, sat for a long time + with his gaze riveted on the dull embers. As the night advanced, a slight + white mist rose from the river, and the declining moon, bowed over the + tops of the forest, seemed to seek the repose of the earth, like a wayward + and wandering lover who returns at last to lay his tired and silent head + on his beloved’s breast. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> + <p> + “Lend me your gun, Almayer,” said Willems, across the table on which a + smoky lamp shone redly above the disorder of a finished meal. “I have a + mind to go and look for a deer when the moon rises to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer, sitting sidewise to the table, his elbow pushed amongst the dirty + plates, his chin on his breast and his legs stretched stiffly out, kept + his eyes steadily on the toes of his grass slippers and laughed abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “You might say yes or no instead of making that unpleasant noise,” + remarked Willems, with calm irritation. + </p> + <p> + “If I believed one word of what you say, I would,” answered Almayer + without changing his attitude and speaking slowly, with pauses, as if + dropping his words on the floor. “As it is—what’s the use? You know + where the gun is; you may take it or leave it. Gun. Deer. Bosh! Hunt deer! + Pah! It’s a . . . gazelle you are after, my honoured guest. You want gold + anklets and silk sarongs for that game—my mighty hunter. And you + won’t get those for the asking, I promise you. All day amongst the + natives. A fine help you are to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn’t drink so much, Almayer,” said Willems, disguising his fury + under an affected drawl. “You have no head. Never had, as far as I can + remember, in the old days in Macassar. You drink too much.” + </p> + <p> + “I drink my own,” retorted Almayer, lifting his head quickly and darting + an angry glance at Willems. + </p> + <p> + Those two specimens of the superior race glared at each other savagely for + a minute, then turned away their heads at the same moment as if by + previous arrangement, and both got up. Almayer kicked off his slippers and + scrambled into his hammock, which hung between two wooden columns of the + verandah so as to catch every rare breeze of the dry season, and Willems, + after standing irresolutely by the table for a short time, walked without + a word down the steps of the house and over the courtyard towards the + little wooden jetty, where several small canoes and a couple of big white + whale-boats were made fast, tugging at their short painters and bumping + together in the swift current of the river. He jumped into the smallest + canoe, balancing himself clumsily, slipped the rattan painter, and gave an + unnecessary and violent shove, which nearly sent him headlong overboard. + By the time he regained his balance the canoe had drifted some fifty yards + down the river. He knelt in the bottom of his little craft and fought the + current with long sweeps of the paddle. Almayer sat up in his hammock, + grasping his feet and peering over the river with parted lips till he made + out the shadowy form of man and canoe as they struggled past the jetty + again. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would go,” he shouted. “Won’t you take the gun? Hey?” he + yelled, straining his voice. Then he fell back in his hammock and laughed + to himself feebly till he fell asleep. On the river, Willems, his eyes + fixed intently ahead, swept his paddle right and left, unheeding the words + that reached him faintly. + </p> + <p> + It was now three months since Lingard had landed Willems in Sambir and had + departed hurriedly, leaving him in Almayer’s care. + </p> + <p> + The two white men did not get on well together. Almayer, remembering the + time when they both served Hudig, and when the superior Willems treated + him with offensive condescension, felt a great dislike towards his guest. + He was also jealous of Lingard’s favour. Almayer had married a Malay girl + whom the old seaman had adopted in one of his accesses of unreasoning + benevolence, and as the marriage was not a happy one from a domestic point + of view, he looked to Lingard’s fortune for compensation in his + matrimonial unhappiness. The appearance of that man, who seemed to have a + claim of some sort upon Lingard, filled him with considerable uneasiness, + the more so because the old seaman did not choose to acquaint the husband + of his adopted daughter with Willems’ history, or to confide to him his + intentions as to that individual’s future fate. Suspicious from the first, + Almayer discouraged Willems’ attempts to help him in his trading, and then + when Willems drew back, he made, with characteristic perverseness, a + grievance of his unconcern. From cold civility in their relations, the two + men drifted into silent hostility, then into outspoken enmity, and both + wished ardently for Lingard’s return and the end of a situation that grew + more intolerable from day to day. The time dragged slowly. Willems watched + the succeeding sunrises wondering dismally whether before the evening some + change would occur in the deadly dullness of his life. He missed the + commercial activity of that existence which seemed to him far off, + irreparably lost, buried out of sight under the ruins of his past success—now + gone from him beyond the possibility of redemption. He mooned + disconsolately about Almayer’s courtyard, watching from afar, with + uninterested eyes, the up-country canoes discharging guttah or rattans, + and loading rice or European goods on the little wharf of Lingard & + Co. Big as was the extent of ground owned by Almayer, Willems yet felt + that there was not enough room for him inside those neat fences. The man + who, during long years, became accustomed to think of himself as + indispensable to others, felt a bitter and savage rage at the cruel + consciousness of his superfluity, of his uselessness; at the cold + hostility visible in every look of the only white man in this barbarous + corner of the world. He gnashed his teeth when he thought of the wasted + days, of the life thrown away in the unwilling company of that peevish and + suspicious fool. He heard the reproach of his idleness in the murmurs of + the river, in the unceasing whisper of the great forests. Round him + everything stirred, moved, swept by in a rush; the earth under his feet + and the heavens above his head. The very savages around him strove, + struggled, fought, worked—if only to prolong a miserable existence; + but they lived, they lived! And it was only himself that seemed to be left + outside the scheme of creation in a hopeless immobility filled with + tormenting anger and with ever-stinging regret. + </p> + <p> + He took to wandering about the settlement. The afterwards flourishing + Sambir was born in a swamp and passed its youth in malodorous mud. The + houses crowded the bank, and, as if to get away from the unhealthy shore, + stepped boldly into the river, shooting over it in a close row of bamboo + platforms elevated on high piles, amongst which the current below spoke in + a soft and unceasing plaint of murmuring eddies. There was only one path + in the whole town and it ran at the back of the houses along the + succession of blackened circular patches that marked the place of the + household fires. On the other side the virgin forest bordered the path, + coming close to it, as if to provoke impudently any passer-by to the + solution of the gloomy problem of its depths. Nobody would accept the + deceptive challenge. There were only a few feeble attempts at a clearing + here and there, but the ground was low and the river, retiring after its + yearly floods, left on each a gradually diminishing mudhole, where the + imported buffaloes of the Bugis settlers wallowed happily during the heat + of the day. When Willems walked on the path, the indolent men stretched on + the shady side of the houses looked at him with calm curiosity, the women + busy round the cooking fires would send after him wondering and timid + glances, while the children would only look once, and then run away + yelling with fright at the horrible appearance of the man with a red and + white face. These manifestations of childish disgust and fear stung + Willems with a sense of absurd humiliation; he sought in his walks the + comparative solitude of the rudimentary clearings, but the very buffaloes + snorted with alarm at his sight, scrambled lumberingly out of the cool mud + and stared wildly in a compact herd at him as he tried to slink + unperceived along the edge of the forest. One day, at some unguarded and + sudden movement of his, the whole herd stampeded down the path, scattered + the fires, sent the women flying with shrill cries, and left behind a + track of smashed pots, trampled rice, overturned children, and a crowd of + angry men brandishing sticks in loud-voiced pursuit. The innocent cause of + that disturbance ran shamefacedly the gauntlet of black looks and + unfriendly remarks, and hastily sought refuge in Almayer’s campong. After + that he left the settlement alone. + </p> + <p> + Later, when the enforced confinement grew irksome, Willems took one of + Almayer’s many canoes and crossed the main branch of the Pantai in search + of some solitary spot where he could hide his discouragement and his + weariness. He skirted in his little craft the wall of tangled verdure, + keeping in the dead water close to the bank where the spreading nipa palms + nodded their broad leaves over his head as if in contemptuous pity of the + wandering outcast. Here and there he could see the beginnings of + chopped-out pathways, and, with the fixed idea of getting out of sight of + the busy river, he would land and follow the narrow and winding path, only + to find that it led nowhere, ending abruptly in the discouragement of + thorny thickets. He would go back slowly, with a bitter sense of + unreasonable disappointment and sadness; oppressed by the hot smell of + earth, dampness, and decay in that forest which seemed to push him + mercilessly back into the glittering sunshine of the river. And he would + recommence paddling with tired arms to seek another opening, to find + another deception. + </p> + <p> + As he paddled up to the point where the Rajah’s stockade came down to the + river, the nipas were left behind rattling their leaves over the brown + water, and the big trees would appear on the bank, tall, strong, + indifferent in the immense solidity of their life, which endures for ages, + to that short and fleeting life in the heart of the man who crept + painfully amongst their shadows in search of a refuge from the unceasing + reproach of his thoughts. Amongst their smooth trunks a clear brook + meandered for a time in twining lacets before it made up its mind to take + a leap into the hurrying river, over the edge of the steep bank. There was + also a pathway there and it seemed frequented. Willems landed, and + following the capricious promise of the track soon found himself in a + comparatively clear space, where the confused tracery of sunlight fell + through the branches and the foliage overhead, and lay on the stream that + shone in an easy curve like a bright sword-blade dropped amongst the long + and feathery grass. + </p> + <p> + Further on, the path continued, narrowed again in the thick undergrowth. + At the end of the first turning Willems saw a flash of white and colour, a + gleam of gold like a sun-ray lost in shadow, and a vision of blackness + darker than the deepest shade of the forest. He stopped, surprised, and + fancied he had heard light footsteps—growing lighter—ceasing. + He looked around. The grass on the bank of the stream trembled and a + tremulous path of its shivering, silver-grey tops ran from the water to + the beginning of the thicket. And yet there was not a breath of wind. + Somebody kind passed there. He looked pensive while the tremor died out in + a quick tremble under his eyes; and the grass stood high, unstirring, with + drooping heads in the warm and motionless air. + </p> + <p> + He hurried on, driven by a suddenly awakened curiosity, and entered the + narrow way between the bushes. At the next turn of the path he caught + again the glimpse of coloured stuff and of a woman’s black hair before + him. He hastened his pace and came in full view of the object of his + pursuit. The woman, who was carrying two bamboo vessels full of water, + heard his footsteps, stopped, and putting the bamboos down half turned to + look back. Willems also stood still for a minute, then walked steadily on + with a firm tread, while the woman moved aside to let him pass. He kept + his eyes fixed straight before him, yet almost unconsciously he took in + every detail of the tall and graceful figure. As he approached her the + woman tossed her head slightly back, and with a free gesture of her + strong, round arm, caught up the mass of loose black hair and brought it + over her shoulder and across the lower part of her face. The next moment + he was passing her close, walking rigidly, like a man in a trance. He + heard her rapid breathing and he felt the touch of a look darted at him + from half-open eyes. It touched his brain and his heart together. It + seemed to him to be something loud and stirring like a shout, silent and + penetrating like an inspiration. The momentum of his motion carried him + past her, but an invisible force made up of surprise and curiosity and + desire spun him round as soon as he had passed. + </p> + <p> + She had taken up her burden already, with the intention of pursuing her + path. His sudden movement arrested her at the first step, and again she + stood straight, slim, expectant, with a readiness to dart away suggested + in the light immobility of her pose. High above, the branches of the trees + met in a transparent shimmer of waving green mist, through which the rain + of yellow rays descended upon her head, streamed in glints down her black + tresses, shone with the changing glow of liquid metal on her face, and + lost itself in vanishing sparks in the sombre depths of her eyes that, + wide open now, with enlarged pupils, looked steadily at the man in her + path. And Willems stared at her, charmed with a charm that carries with it + a sense of irreparable loss, tingling with that feeling which begins like + a caress and ends in a blow, in that sudden hurt of a new emotion making + its way into a human heart, with the brusque stirring of sleeping + sensations awakening suddenly to the rush of new hopes, new fears, new + desires—and to the flight of one’s old self. + </p> + <p> + She moved a step forward and again halted. A breath of wind that came + through the trees, but in Willems’ fancy seemed to be driven by her moving + figure, rippled in a hot wave round his body and scorched his face in a + burning touch. He drew it in with a long breath, the last long breath of a + soldier before the rush of battle, of a lover before he takes in his arms + the adored woman; the breath that gives courage to confront the menace of + death or the storm of passion. + </p> + <p> + Who was she? Where did she come from? Wonderingly he took his eyes off her + face to look round at the serried trees of the forest that stood big and + still and straight, as if watching him and her breathlessly. He had been + baffled, repelled, almost frightened by the intensity of that tropical + life which wants the sunshine but works in gloom; which seems to be all + grace of colour and form, all brilliance, all smiles, but is only the + blossoming of the dead; whose mystery holds the promise of joy and beauty, + yet contains nothing but poison and decay. He had been frightened by the + vague perception of danger before, but now, as he looked at that life + again, his eyes seemed able to pierce the fantastic veil of creepers and + leaves, to look past the solid trunks, to see through the forbidding gloom—and + the mystery was disclosed—enchanting, subduing, beautiful. He looked + at the woman. Through the checkered light between them she appeared to him + with the impalpable distinctness of a dream. The very spirit of that land + of mysterious forests, standing before him like an apparition behind a + transparent veil—a veil woven of sunbeams and shadows. + </p> + <p> + She had approached him still nearer. He felt a strange impatience within + him at her advance. Confused thoughts rushed through his head, disordered, + shapeless, stunning. Then he heard his own voice asking— + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am the daughter of the blind Omar,” she answered, in a low but steady + tone. “And you,” she went on, a little louder, “you are the white trader—the + great man of this place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Willems, holding her eyes with his in a sense of extreme + effort, “Yes, I am white.” Then he added, feeling as if he spoke about + some other man, “But I am the outcast of my people.” + </p> + <p> + She listened to him gravely. Through the mesh of scattered hair her face + looked like the face of a golden statue with living eyes. The heavy + eyelids dropped slightly, and from between the long eyelashes she sent out + a sidelong look: hard, keen, and narrow, like the gleam of sharp steel. + Her lips were firm and composed in a graceful curve, but the distended + nostrils, the upward poise of the half-averted head, gave to her whole + person the expression of a wild and resentful defiance. + </p> + <p> + A shadow passed over Willems’ face. He put his hand over his lips as if to + keep back the words that wanted to come out in a surge of impulsive + necessity, the outcome of dominant thought that rushes from the heart to + the brain and must be spoken in the face of doubt, of danger, of fear, of + destruction itself. + </p> + <p> + “You are beautiful,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him again with a glance that running in one quick flash of + her eyes over his sunburnt features, his broad shoulders, his straight, + tall, motionless figure, rested at last on the ground at his feet. Then + she smiled. In the sombre beauty of her face that smile was like the first + ray of light on a stormy daybreak that darts evanescent and pale through + the gloomy clouds: the forerunner of sunrise and of thunder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + There are in our lives short periods which hold no place in memory but + only as the recollection of a feeling. There is no remembrance of gesture, + of action, of any outward manifestation of life; those are lost in the + unearthly brilliance or in the unearthly gloom of such moments. We are + absorbed in the contemplation of that something, within our bodies, which + rejoices or suffers while the body goes on breathing, instinctively runs + away or, not less instinctively, fights—perhaps dies. But death in + such a moment is the privilege of the fortunate, it is a high and rare + favour, a supreme grace. + </p> + <p> + Willems never remembered how and when he parted from Aissa. He caught + himself drinking the muddy water out of the hollow of his hand, while his + canoe was drifting in mid-stream past the last houses of Sambir. With his + returning wits came the fear of something unknown that had taken + possession of his heart, of something inarticulate and masterful which + could not speak and would be obeyed. His first impulse was that of revolt. + He would never go back there. Never! He looked round slowly at the + brilliance of things in the deadly sunshine and took up his paddle! How + changed everything seemed! The river was broader, the sky was higher. How + fast the canoe flew under the strokes of his paddle! Since when had he + acquired the strength of two men or more? He looked up and down the reach + at the forests of the bank with a confused notion that with one sweep of + his hand he could tumble all these trees into the stream. His face felt + burning. He drank again, and shuddered with a depraved sense of pleasure + at the after-taste of slime in the water. + </p> + <p> + It was late when he reached Almayer’s house, but he crossed the dark and + uneven courtyard, walking lightly in the radiance of some light of his + own, invisible to other eyes. His host’s sulky greeting jarred him like a + sudden fall down a great height. He took his place at the table opposite + Almayer and tried to speak cheerfully to his gloomy companion, but when + the meal was ended and they sat smoking in silence he felt an abrupt + discouragement, a lassitude in all his limbs, a sense of immense sadness + as after some great and irreparable loss. The darkness of the night + entered his heart, bringing with it doubt and hesitation and dull anger + with himself and all the world. He had an impulse to shout horrible + curses, to quarrel with Almayer, to do something violent. Quite without + any immediate provocation he thought he would like to assault the + wretched, sulky beast. He glanced at him ferociously from under his + eyebrows. The unconscious Almayer smoked thoughtfully, planning + to-morrow’s work probably. The man’s composure seemed to Willems an + unpardonable insult. Why didn’t that idiot talk to-night when he wanted + him to? . . . on other nights he was ready enough to chatter. And such + dull nonsense too! And Willems, trying hard to repress his own senseless + rage, looked fixedly through the thick tobacco-smoke at the stained + tablecloth. + </p> + <p> + They retired early, as usual, but in the middle of the night Willems + leaped out of his hammock with a stifled execration and ran down the steps + into the courtyard. The two night watchmen, who sat by a little fire + talking together in a monotonous undertone, lifted their heads to look + wonderingly at the discomposed features of the white man as he crossed the + circle of light thrown out by their fire. He disappeared in the darkness + and then came back again, passing them close, but with no sign of + consciousness of their presence on his face. Backwards and forwards he + paced, muttering to himself, and the two Malays, after a short + consultation in whispers left the fire quietly, not thinking it safe to + remain in the vicinity of a white man who behaved in such a strange + manner. They retired round the corner of the godown and watched Willems + curiously through the night, till the short daybreak was followed by the + sudden blaze of the rising sun, and Almayer’s establishment woke up to + life and work. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he could get away unnoticed in the bustle of the busy + riverside, Willems crossed the river on his way to the place where he had + met Aissa. He threw himself down in the grass by the side of the brook and + listened for the sound of her footsteps. The brilliant light of day fell + through the irregular opening in the high branches of the trees and + streamed down, softened, amongst the shadows of big trunks. Here and there + a narrow sunbeam touched the rugged bark of a tree with a golden splash, + sparkled on the leaping water of the brook, or rested on a leaf that stood + out, shimmering and distinct, on the monotonous background of sombre green + tints. The clear gap of blue above his head was crossed by the quick + flight of white rice-birds whose wings flashed in the sunlight, while + through it the heat poured down from the sky, clung about the steaming + earth, rolled among the trees, and wrapped up Willems in the soft and + odorous folds of air heavy with the faint scent of blossoms and with the + acrid smell of decaying life. And in that atmosphere of Nature’s workshop + Willems felt soothed and lulled into forgetfulness of his past, into + indifference as to his future. The recollections of his triumphs, of his + wrongs and of his ambition vanished in that warmth, which seemed to melt + all regrets, all hope, all anger, all strength out of his heart. And he + lay there, dreamily contented, in the tepid and perfumed shelter, thinking + of Aissa’s eyes; recalling the sound of her voice, the quiver of her lips—her + frowns and her smile. + </p> + <p> + She came, of course. To her he was something new, unknown and strange. He + was bigger, stronger than any man she had seen before, and altogether + different from all those she knew. He was of the victorious race. With a + vivid remembrance of the great catastrophe of her life he appeared to her + with all the fascination of a great and dangerous thing; of a terror + vanquished, surmounted, made a plaything of. They spoke with just such a + deep voice—those victorious men; they looked with just such hard + blue eyes at their enemies. And she made that voice speak softly to her, + those eyes look tenderly at her face! He was indeed a man. She could not + understand all he told her of his life, but the fragments she understood + she made up for herself into a story of a man great amongst his own + people, valorous and unfortunate; an undaunted fugitive dreaming of + vengeance against his enemies. He had all the attractiveness of the vague + and the unknown—of the unforeseen and of the sudden; of a being + strong, dangerous, alive, and human, ready to be enslaved. + </p> + <p> + She felt that he was ready. She felt it with the unerring intuition of a + primitive woman confronted by a simple impulse. Day after day, when they + met and she stood a little way off, listening to his words, holding him + with her look, the undefined terror of the new conquest became faint and + blurred like the memory of a dream, and the certitude grew distinct, and + convincing, and visible to the eyes like some material thing in full + sunlight. It was a deep joy, a great pride, a tangible sweetness that + seemed to leave the taste of honey on her lips. He lay stretched at her + feet without moving, for he knew from experience how a slight movement of + his could frighten her away in those first days of their intercourse. He + lay very quiet, with all the ardour of his desire ringing in his voice and + shining in his eyes, whilst his body was still, like death itself. And he + looked at her, standing above him, her head lost in the shadow of broad + and graceful leaves that touched her cheek; while the slender spikes of + pale green orchids streamed down from amongst the boughs and mingled with + the black hair that framed her face, as if all those plants claimed her + for their own—the animated and brilliant flower of all that + exuberant life which, born in gloom, struggles for ever towards the + sunshine. + </p> + <p> + Every day she came a little nearer. He watched her slow progress—the + gradual taming of that woman by the words of his love. It was the + monotonous song of praise and desire that, commencing at creation, wraps + up the world like an atmosphere and shall end only in the end of all + things—when there are no lips to sing and no ears to hear. He told + her that she was beautiful and desirable, and he repeated it again and + again; for when he told her that, he had said all there was within him—he + had expressed his only thought, his only feeling. And he watched the + startled look of wonder and mistrust vanish from her face with the passing + days, her eyes soften, the smile dwell longer and longer on her lips; a + smile as of one charmed by a delightful dream; with the slight exaltation + of intoxicating triumph lurking in its dawning tenderness. + </p> + <p> + And while she was near there was nothing in the whole world—for that + idle man—but her look and her smile. Nothing in the past, nothing in + the future; and in the present only the luminous fact of her existence. + But in the sudden darkness of her going he would be left weak and + helpless, as though despoiled violently of all that was himself. He who + had lived all his life with no preoccupation but that of his own career, + contemptuously indifferent to all feminine influence, full of scorn for + men that would submit to it, if ever so little; he, so strong, so superior + even in his errors, realized at last that his very individuality was + snatched from within himself by the hand of a woman. Where was the + assurance and pride of his cleverness; the belief in success, the anger of + failure, the wish to retrieve his fortune, the certitude of his ability to + accomplish it yet? Gone. All gone. All that had been a man within him was + gone, and there remained only the trouble of his heart—that heart + which had become a contemptible thing; which could be fluttered by a look + or a smile, tormented by a word, soothed by a promise. + </p> + <p> + When the longed-for day came at last, when she sank on the grass by his + side and with a quick gesture took his hand in hers, he sat up suddenly + with the movement and look of a man awakened by the crash of his own + falling house. All his blood, all his sensation, all his life seemed to + rush into that hand leaving him without strength, in a cold shiver, in the + sudden clamminess and collapse as of a deadly gun-shot wound. He flung her + hand away brutally, like something burning, and sat motionless, his head + fallen forward, staring on the ground and catching his breath in painful + gasps. His impulse of fear and apparent horror did not dismay her in the + least. Her face was grave and her eyes looked seriously at him. Her + fingers touched the hair of his temple, ran in a light caress down his + cheek, twisted gently the end of his long moustache: and while he sat in + the tremor of that contact she ran off with startling fleetness and + disappeared in a peal of clear laughter, in the stir of grass, in the nod + of young twigs growing over the path; leaving behind only a vanishing + trail of motion and sound. + </p> + <p> + He scrambled to his feet slowly and painfully, like a man with a burden on + his shoulders, and walked towards the riverside. He hugged to his breast + the recollection of his fear and of his delight, but told himself + seriously over and over again that this must be the end of that adventure. + After shoving off his canoe into the stream he lifted his eyes to the bank + and gazed at it long and steadily, as if taking his last look at a place + of charming memories. He marched up to Almayer’s house with the + concentrated expression and the determined step of a man who had just + taken a momentous resolution. His face was set and rigid, his gestures and + movements were guarded and slow. He was keeping a tight hand on himself. A + very tight hand. He had a vivid illusion—as vivid as reality almost—of + being in charge of a slippery prisoner. He sat opposite Almayer during + that dinner—which was their last meal together—with a + perfectly calm face and within him a growing terror of escape from his own + self. + </p> + <p> + Now and then he would grasp the edge of the table and set his teeth hard + in a sudden wave of acute despair, like one who, falling down a smooth and + rapid declivity that ends in a precipice, digs his finger nails into the + yielding surface and feels himself slipping helplessly to inevitable + destruction. + </p> + <p> + Then, abruptly, came a relaxation of his muscles, the giving way of his + will. Something seemed to snap in his head, and that wish, that idea kept + back during all those hours, darted into his brain with the heat and noise + of a conflagration. He must see her! See her at once! Go now! To-night! He + had the raging regret of the lost hour, of every passing moment. There was + no thought of resistance now. Yet with the instinctive fear of the + irrevocable, with the innate falseness of the human heart, he wanted to + keep open the way of retreat. He had never absented himself during the + night. What did Almayer know? What would Almayer think? Better ask him for + the gun. A moonlight night. . . . Look for deer. . . . A colourable + pretext. He would lie to Almayer. What did it matter! He lied to himself + every minute of his life. And for what? For a woman. And such. . . . + </p> + <p> + Almayer’s answer showed him that deception was useless. Everything gets to + be known, even in this place. Well, he did not care. Cared for nothing but + for the lost seconds. What if he should suddenly die. Die before he saw + her. Before he could . . . + </p> + <p> + As, with the sound of Almayer’s laughter in his ears, he urged his canoe + in a slanting course across the rapid current, he tried to tell himself + that he could return at any moment. He would just go and look at the place + where they used to meet, at the tree under which he lay when she took his + hand, at the spot where she sat by his side. Just go there and then return—nothing + more; but when his little skiff touched the bank he leaped out, forgetting + the painter, and the canoe hung for a moment amongst the bushes and then + swung out of sight before he had time to dash into the water and secure + it. He was thunderstruck at first. Now he could not go back unless he + called up the Rajah’s people to get a boat and rowers—and the way to + Patalolo’s campong led past Aissa’s house! + </p> + <p> + He went up the path with the eager eyes and reluctant steps of a man + pursuing a phantom, and when he found himself at a place where a narrow + track branched off to the left towards Omar’s clearing he stood still, + with a look of strained attention on his face as if listening to a far-off + voice—the voice of his fate. It was a sound inarticulate but full of + meaning; and following it there came a rending and tearing within his + breast. He twisted his fingers together, and the joints of his hands and + arms cracked. On his forehead the perspiration stood out in small pearly + drops. He looked round wildly. Above the shapeless darkness of the forest + undergrowth rose the treetops with their high boughs and leaves standing + out black on the pale sky—like fragments of night floating on + moonbeams. Under his feet warm steam rose from the heated earth. Round him + there was a great silence. + </p> + <p> + He was looking round for help. This silence, this immobility of his + surroundings seemed to him a cold rebuke, a stern refusal, a cruel + unconcern. There was no safety outside of himself—and in himself + there was no refuge; there was only the image of that woman. He had a + sudden moment of lucidity—of that cruel lucidity that comes once in + life to the most benighted. He seemed to see what went on within him, and + was horrified at the strange sight. He, a white man whose worst fault till + then had been a little want of judgment and too much confidence in the + rectitude of his kind! That woman was a complete savage, and . . . He + tried to tell himself that the thing was of no consequence. It was a vain + effort. The novelty of the sensations he had never experienced before in + the slightest degree, yet had despised on hearsay from his safe position + of a civilized man, destroyed his courage. He was disappointed with + himself. He seemed to be surrendering to a wild creature the unstained + purity of his life, of his race, of his civilization. He had a notion of + being lost amongst shapeless things that were dangerous and ghastly. He + struggled with the sense of certain defeat—lost his footing—fell + back into the darkness. With a faint cry and an upward throw of his arms + he gave up as a tired swimmer gives up: because the swamped craft is gone + from under his feet; because the night is dark and the shore is far—because + death is better than strife. + </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 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + The light and heat fell upon the settlement, the clearings, and the river + as if flung down by an angry hand. The land lay silent, still, and + brilliant under the avalanche of burning rays that had destroyed all sound + and all motion, had buried all shadows, had choked every breath. No living + thing dared to affront the serenity of this cloudless sky, dared to revolt + against the oppression of this glorious and cruel sunshine. Strength and + resolution, body and mind alike were helpless, and tried to hide before + the rush of the fire from heaven. Only the frail butterflies, the fearless + children of the sun, the capricious tyrants of the flowers, fluttered + audaciously in the open, and their minute shadows hovered in swarms over + the drooping blossoms, ran lightly on the withering grass, or glided on + the dry and cracked earth. No voice was heard in this hot noontide but the + faint murmur of the river that hurried on in swirls and eddies, its + sparkling wavelets chasing each other in their joyous course to the + sheltering depths, to the cool refuge of the sea. + </p> + <p> + Almayer had dismissed his workmen for the midday rest, and, his little + daughter on his shoulder, ran quickly across the courtyard, making for the + shade of the verandah of his house. He laid the sleepy child on the seat + of the big rocking-chair, on a pillow which he took out of his own + hammock, and stood for a while looking down at her with tender and pensive + eyes. The child, tired and hot, moved uneasily, sighed, and looked up at + him with the veiled look of sleepy fatigue. He picked up from the floor a + broken palm-leaf fan, and began fanning gently the flushed little face. + Her eyelids fluttered and Almayer smiled. A responsive smile brightened + for a second her heavy eyes, broke with a dimple the soft outline of her + cheek; then the eyelids dropped suddenly, she drew a long breath through + the parted lips—and was in a deep sleep before the fleeting smile + could vanish from her face. + </p> + <p> + Almayer moved lightly off, took one of the wooden armchairs, and placing + it close to the balustrade of the verandah sat down with a sigh of relief. + He spread his elbows on the top rail and resting his chin on his clasped + hands looked absently at the river, at the dance of sunlight on the + flowing water. Gradually the forest of the further bank became smaller, as + if sinking below the level of the river. The outlines wavered, grew thin, + dissolved in the air. Before his eyes there was now only a space of + undulating blue—one big, empty sky growing dark at times. . . . + Where was the sunshine? . . . He felt soothed and happy, as if some gentle + and invisible hand had removed from his soul the burden of his body. In + another second he seemed to float out into a cool brightness where there + was no such thing as memory or pain. Delicious. His eyes closed—opened—closed + again. + </p> + <p> + “Almayer!” + </p> + <p> + With a sudden jerk of his whole body he sat up, grasping the front rail + with both his hands, and blinked stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “What? What’s that?” he muttered, looking round vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “Here! Down here, Almayer.” + </p> + <p> + Half rising in his chair, Almayer looked over the rail at the foot of the + verandah, and fell back with a low whistle of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “A ghost, by heavens!” he exclaimed softly to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Will you listen to me?” went on the husky voice from the courtyard. “May + I come up, Almayer?” + </p> + <p> + Almayer stood up and leaned over the rail. “Don’t you dare,” he said, in a + voice subdued but distinct. “Don’t you dare! The child sleeps here. And I + don’t want to hear you—or speak to you either.” + </p> + <p> + “You must listen to me! It’s something important.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to me, surely.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! To you. Very important.” + </p> + <p> + “You were always a humbug,” said Almayer, after a short silence, in an + indulgent tone. “Always! I remember the old days. Some fellows used to say + there was no one like you for smartness—but you never took me in. + Not quite. I never quite believed in you, Mr. Willems.” + </p> + <p> + “I admit your superior intelligence,” retorted Willems, with scornful + impatience, from below. “Listening to me would be a further proof of it. + You will be sorry if you don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you funny fellow!” said Almayer, banteringly. “Well, come up. Don’t + make a noise, but come up. You’ll catch a sunstroke down there and die on + my doorstep perhaps. I don’t want any tragedy here. Come on!” + </p> + <p> + Before he finished speaking Willems’ head appeared above the level of the + floor, then his shoulders rose gradually and he stood at last before + Almayer—a masquerading spectre of the once so very confidential + clerk of the richest merchant in the islands. His jacket was soiled and + torn; below the waist he was clothed in a worn-out and faded sarong. He + flung off his hat, uncovering his long, tangled hair that stuck in wisps + on his perspiring forehead and straggled over his eyes, which glittered + deep down in the sockets like the last sparks amongst the black embers of + a burnt-out fire. An unclean beard grew out of the caverns of his sunburnt + cheeks. The hand he put out towards Almayer was very unsteady. The once + firm mouth had the tell-tale droop of mental suffering and physical + exhaustion. He was barefooted. Almayer surveyed him with leisurely + composure. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he said at last, without taking the extended hand which dropped + slowly along Willems’ body. + </p> + <p> + “I am come,” began Willems. + </p> + <p> + “So I see,” interrupted Almayer. “You might have spared me this treat + without making me unhappy. You have been away five weeks, if I am not + mistaken. I got on very well without you—and now you are here you + are not pretty to look at.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me speak, will you!” exclaimed Willems. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t shout like this. Do you think yourself in the forest with your . . + . your friends? This is a civilized man’s house. A white man’s. + Understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I am come,” began Willems again; “I am come for your good and mine.” + </p> + <p> + “You look as if you had come for a good feed,” chimed in the irrepressible + Almayer, while Willems waved his hand in a discouraged gesture. “Don’t + they give you enough to eat,” went on Almayer, in a tone of easy banter, + “those—what am I to call them—those new relations of yours? + That old blind scoundrel must be delighted with your company. You know, he + was the greatest thief and murderer of those seas. Say! do you exchange + confidences? Tell me, Willems, did you kill somebody in Macassar or did + you only steal something?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not true!” exclaimed Willems, hotly. “I only borrowed. . . . They + all lied! I . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Sh-sh!” hissed Almayer, warningly, with a look at the sleeping child. “So + you did steal,” he went on, with repressed exultation. “I thought there + was something of the kind. And now, here, you steal again.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Willems raised his eyes to Almayer’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t mean from me. I haven’t missed anything,” said Almayer, with + mocking haste. “But that girl. Hey! You stole her. You did not pay the old + fellow. She is no good to him now, is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop that. Almayer!” + </p> + <p> + Something in Willems’ tone caused Almayer to pause. He looked narrowly at + the man before him, and could not help being shocked at his appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Almayer,” went on Willems, “listen to me. If you are a human being you + will. I suffer horribly—and for your sake.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer lifted his eyebrows. “Indeed! How? But you are raving,” he added, + negligently. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You don’t know,” whispered Willems. “She is gone. Gone,” he repeated, + with tears in his voice, “gone two days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” exclaimed the surprised Almayer. “Gone! I haven’t heard that news + yet.” He burst into a subdued laugh. “How funny! Had enough of you + already? You know it’s not flattering for you, my superior countryman.” + </p> + <p> + Willems—as if not hearing him—leaned against one of the + columns of the roof and looked over the river. “At first,” he whispered, + dreamily, “my life was like a vision of heaven—or hell; I didn’t + know which. Since she went I know what perdition means; what darkness is. + I know what it is to be torn to pieces alive. That’s how I feel.” + </p> + <p> + “You may come and live with me again,” said Almayer, coldly. “After all, + Lingard—whom I call my father and respect as such—left you + under my care. You pleased yourself by going away. Very good. Now you want + to come back. Be it so. I am no friend of yours. I act for Captain + Lingard.” + </p> + <p> + “Come back?” repeated Willems, passionately. “Come back to you and abandon + her? Do you think I am mad? Without her! Man! what are you made of? To + think that she moves, lives, breathes out of my sight. I am jealous of the + wind that fans her, of the air she breathes, of the earth that receives + the caress of her foot, of the sun that looks at her now while I . . . I + haven’t seen her for two days—two days.” + </p> + <p> + The intensity of Willems’ feeling moved Almayer somewhat, but he affected + to yawn elaborately, “You do bore me,” he muttered. “Why don’t you go + after her instead of coming here?” + </p> + <p> + “Why indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know where she is? She can’t be very far. No native craft has + left this river for the last fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + “No! not very far—and I will tell you where she is. She is in + Lakamba’s campong.” And Willems fixed his eyes steadily on Almayer’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Phew! Patalolo never sent to let me know. Strange,” said Almayer, + thoughtfully. “Are you afraid of that lot?” he added, after a short pause. + </p> + <p> + “I—afraid!” + </p> + <p> + “Then is it the care of your dignity which prevents you from following her + there, my high-minded friend?” asked Almayer, with mock solicitude. “How + noble of you!” + </p> + <p> + There was a short silence; then Willems said, quietly, “You are a fool. I + should like to kick you.” + </p> + <p> + “No fear,” answered Almayer, carelessly; “you are too weak for that. You + look starved.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I have eaten anything for the last two days; perhaps more—I + don’t remember. It does not matter. I am full of live embers,” said + Willems, gloomily. “Look!” and he bared an arm covered with fresh scars. + “I have been biting myself to forget in that pain the fire that hurts me + there!” He struck his breast violently with his fist, reeled under his own + blow, fell into a chair that stood near and closed his eyes slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Disgusting exhibition,” said Almayer, loftily. “What could father ever + see in you? You are as estimable as a heap of garbage.” + </p> + <p> + “You talk like that! You, who sold your soul for a few guilders,” muttered + Willems, wearily, without opening his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Not so few,” said Almayer, with instinctive readiness, and stopped + confused for a moment. He recovered himself quickly, however, and went on: + “But you—you have thrown yours away for nothing; flung it under the + feet of a damned savage woman who has made you already the thing you are, + and will kill you very soon, one way or another, with her love or with her + hate. You spoke just now about guilders. You meant Lingard’s money, I + suppose. Well, whatever I have sold, and for whatever price, I never meant + you—you of all people—to spoil my bargain. I feel pretty safe + though. Even father, even Captain Lingard, would not touch you now with a + pair of tongs; not with a ten-foot pole. . . .” + </p> + <p> + He spoke excitedly, all in one breath, and, ceasing suddenly, glared at + Willems and breathed hard through his nose in sulky resentment. Willems + looked at him steadily for a moment, then got up. + </p> + <p> + “Almayer,” he said resolutely, “I want to become a trader in this place.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And you shall set me up. I want a house and trade goods—perhaps + a little money. I ask you for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything else you want? Perhaps this coat?” and here Almayer unbuttoned + his jacket—“or my house—or my boots?” + </p> + <p> + “After all it’s natural,” went on Willems, without paying any attention to + Almayer—“it’s natural that she should expect the advantages which . + . . and then I could shut up that old wretch and then . . .” + </p> + <p> + He paused, his face brightened with the soft light of dreamy enthusiasm, + and he turned his eyes upwards. With his gaunt figure and dilapidated + appearance he looked like some ascetic dweller in a wilderness, finding + the reward of a self-denying life in a vision of dazzling glory. He went + on in an impassioned murmur— + </p> + <p> + “And then I would have her all to myself away from her people—all to + myself—under my own influence—to fashion—to mould—to + adore—to soften—to . . . Oh! Delight! And then—then go + away to some distant place where, far from all she knew, I would be all + the world to her! All the world to her!” + </p> + <p> + His face changed suddenly. His eyes wandered for awhile and then became + steady all at once. + </p> + <p> + “I would repay every cent, of course,” he said, in a business-like tone, + with something of his old assurance, of his old belief in himself, in it. + “Every cent. I need not interfere with your business. I shall cut out the + small native traders. I have ideas—but never mind that now. And + Captain Lingard would approve, I feel sure. After all it’s a loan, and I + shall be at hand. Safe thing for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Captain Lingard would approve! He would app . . .” Almayer choked. + The notion of Lingard doing something for Willems enraged him. His face + was purple. He spluttered insulting words. Willems looked at him coolly. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, Almayer,” he said, gently, “that I have good grounds for my + demand.” + </p> + <p> + “Your cursed impudence!” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, Almayer, your position here is not so safe as you may think. + An unscrupulous rival here would destroy your trade in a year. It would be + ruin. Now Lingard’s long absence gives courage to certain individuals. You + know?—I have heard much lately. They made proposals to me . . . You + are very much alone here. Even Patalolo . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Damn Patalolo! I am master in this place.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Almayer, don’t you see . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see. I see a mysterious ass,” interrupted Almayer, violently. + “What is the meaning of your veiled threats? Don’t you think I know + something also? They have been intriguing for years—and nothing has + happened. The Arabs have been hanging about outside this river for years—and + I am still the only trader here; the master here. Do you bring me a + declaration of war? Then it’s from yourself only. I know all my other + enemies. I ought to knock you on the head. You are not worth powder and + shot though. You ought to be destroyed with a stick—like a snake.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer’s voice woke up the little girl, who sat up on the pillow with a + sharp cry. He rushed over to the chair, caught up the child in his arms, + walked back blindly, stumbled against Willems’ hat which lay on the floor, + and kicked it furiously down the steps. + </p> + <p> + “Clear out of this! Clear out!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + Willems made an attempt to speak, but Almayer howled him down. + </p> + <p> + “Take yourself off! Don’t you see you frighten the child—you + scarecrow! No, no! dear,” he went on to his little daughter, soothingly, + while Willems walked down the steps slowly. “No. Don’t cry. See! Bad man + going away. Look! He is afraid of your papa. Nasty, bad man. Never come + back again. He shall live in the woods and never come near my little girl. + If he comes papa will kill him—so!” He struck his fist on the rail + of the balustrade to show how he would kill Willems, and, perching the + consoled child on his shoulder held her with one hand, while he pointed + toward the retreating figure of his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Look how he runs away, dearest,” he said, coaxingly. “Isn’t he funny. + Call ‘pig’ after him, dearest. Call after him.” + </p> + <p> + The seriousness of her face vanished into dimples. Under the long + eyelashes, glistening with recent tears, her big eyes sparkled and danced + with fun. She took firm hold of Almayer’s hair with one hand, while she + waved the other joyously and called out with all her might, in a clear + note, soft and distinct like the pipe of a bird:— + </p> + <p> + “Pig! Pig! Pig!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + A sigh under the flaming blue, a shiver of the sleeping sea, a cool breath + as if a door had been swung upon the frozen spaces of the universe, and + with a stir of leaves, with the nod of boughs, with the tremble of slender + branches the sea breeze struck the coast, rushed up the river, swept round + the broad reaches, and travelled on in a soft ripple of darkening water, + in the whisper of branches, in the rustle of leaves of the awakened + forests. It fanned in Lakamba’s campong the dull red of expiring embers + into a pale brilliance; and, under its touch, the slender, upright spirals + of smoke that rose from every glowing heap swayed, wavered, and eddying + down filled the twilight of clustered shade trees with the aromatic scent + of the burning wood. The men who had been dozing in the shade during the + hot hours of the afternoon woke up, and the silence of the big courtyard + was broken by the hesitating murmur of yet sleepy voices, by coughs and + yawns, with now and then a burst of laughter, a loud hail, a name or a + joke sent out in a soft drawl. Small groups squatted round the little + fires, and the monotonous undertone of talk filled the enclosure; the talk + of barbarians, persistent, steady, repeating itself in the soft syllables, + in musical tones of the never-ending discourses of those men of the + forests and the sea, who can talk most of the day and all the night; who + never exhaust a subject, never seem able to thresh a matter out; to whom + that talk is poetry and painting and music, all art, all history; their + only accomplishment, their only superiority, their only amusement. The + talk of camp fires, which speaks of bravery and cunning, of strange events + and of far countries, of the news of yesterday and the news of to-morrow. + The talk about the dead and the living—about those who fought and + those who loved. + </p> + <p> + Lakamba came out on the platform before his own house and sat down—perspiring, + half asleep, and sulky—in a wooden armchair under the shade of the + overhanging eaves. Through the darkness of the doorway he could hear the + soft warbling of his womenkind, busy round the looms where they were + weaving the checkered pattern of his gala sarongs. Right and left of him + on the flexible bamboo floor those of his followers to whom their + distinguished birth, long devotion, or faithful service had given the + privilege of using the chief’s house, were sleeping on mats or just sat up + rubbing their eyes: while the more wakeful had mustered enough energy to + draw a chessboard with red clay on a fine mat and were now meditating + silently over their moves. Above the prostrate forms of the players, who + lay face downward supported on elbow, the soles of their feet waving + irresolutely about, in the absorbed meditation of the game, there towered + here and there the straight figure of an attentive spectator looking down + with dispassionate but profound interest. On the edge of the platform a + row of high-heeled leather sandals stood ranged carefully in a level line, + and against the rough wooden rail leaned the slender shafts of the spears + belonging to these gentlemen, the broad blades of dulled steel looking + very black in the reddening light of approaching sunset. + </p> + <p> + A boy of about twelve—the personal attendant of Lakamba—squatted + at his master’s feet and held up towards him a silver siri box. Slowly + Lakamba took the box, opened it, and tearing off a piece of green leaf + deposited in it a pinch of lime, a morsel of gambier, a small bit of areca + nut, and wrapped up the whole with a dexterous twist. He paused, morsel in + hand, seemed to miss something, turned his head from side to side, slowly, + like a man with a stiff neck, and ejaculated in an ill-humoured bass— + </p> + <p> + “Babalatchi!” + </p> + <p> + The players glanced up quickly, and looked down again directly. Those men + who were standing stirred uneasily as if prodded by the sound of the + chief’s voice. The one nearest to Lakamba repeated the call, after a + while, over the rail into the courtyard. There was a movement of upturned + faces below by the fires, and the cry trailed over the enclosure in + sing-song tones. The thumping of wooden pestles husking the evening rice + stopped for a moment and Babalatchi’s name rang afresh shrilly on women’s + lips in various keys. A voice far off shouted something—another, + nearer, repeated it; there was a short hubbub which died out with extreme + suddenness. The first crier turned to Lakamba, saying indolently— + </p> + <p> + “He is with the blind Omar.” + </p> + <p> + Lakamba’s lips moved inaudibly. The man who had just spoken was again + deeply absorbed in the game going on at his feet; and the chief—as + if he had forgotten all about it already—sat with a stolid face + amongst his silent followers, leaning back squarely in his chair, his + hands on the arms of his seat, his knees apart, his big blood-shot eyes + blinking solemnly, as if dazzled by the noble vacuity of his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi had gone to see old Omar late in the afternoon. The delicate + manipulation of the ancient pirate’s susceptibilities, the skilful + management of Aissa’s violent impulses engrossed him to the exclusion of + every other business—interfered with his regular attendance upon his + chief and protector—even disturbed his sleep for the last three + nights. That day when he left his own bamboo hut—which stood amongst + others in Lakamba’s campong—his heart was heavy with anxiety and + with doubt as to the success of his intrigue. He walked slowly, with his + usual air of detachment from his surroundings, as if unaware that many + sleepy eyes watched from all parts of the courtyard his progress towards a + small gate at its upper end. That gate gave access to a separate enclosure + in which a rather large house, built of planks, had been prepared by + Lakamba’s orders for the reception of Omar and Aissa. It was a superior + kind of habitation which Lakamba intended for the dwelling of his chief + adviser—whose abilities were worth that honour, he thought. But + after the consultation in the deserted clearing—when Babalatchi had + disclosed his plan—they both had agreed that the new house should be + used at first to shelter Omar and Aissa after they had been persuaded to + leave the Rajah’s place, or had been kidnapped from there—as the + case might be. Babalatchi did not mind in the least the putting off of his + own occupation of the house of honour, because it had many advantages for + the quiet working out of his plans. It had a certain seclusion, having an + enclosure of its own, and that enclosure communicated also with Lakamba’s + private courtyard at the back of his residence—a place set apart for + the female household of the chief. The only communication with the river + was through the great front courtyard always full of armed men and + watchful eyes. Behind the whole group of buildings there stretched the + level ground of rice-clearings, which in their turn were closed in by the + wall of untouched forests with undergrowth so thick and tangled that + nothing but a bullet—and that fired at pretty close range—could + penetrate any distance there. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi slipped quietly through the little gate and, closing it, tied + up carefully the rattan fastenings. Before the house there was a square + space of ground, beaten hard into the level smoothness of asphalte. A big + buttressed tree, a giant left there on purpose during the process of + clearing the land, roofed in the clear space with a high canopy of gnarled + boughs and thick, sombre leaves. To the right—and some small + distance away from the large house—a little hut of reeds, covered + with mats, had been put up for the special convenience of Omar, who, being + blind and infirm, had some difficulty in ascending the steep plankway that + led to the more substantial dwelling, which was built on low posts and had + an uncovered verandah. Close by the trunk of the tree, and facing the + doorway of the hut, the household fire glowed in a small handful of embers + in the midst of a large circle of white ashes. An old woman—some + humble relation of one of Lakamba’s wives, who had been ordered to attend + on Aissa—was squatting over the fire and lifted up her bleared eyes + to gaze at Babalatchi in an uninterested manner, as he advanced rapidly + across the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi took in the courtyard with a keen glance of his solitary eye, + and without looking down at the old woman muttered a question. Silently, + the woman stretched a tremulous and emaciated arm towards the hut. + Babalatchi made a few steps towards the doorway, but stopped outside in + the sunlight. + </p> + <p> + “O! Tuan Omar, Omar besar! It is I—Babalatchi!” + </p> + <p> + Within the hut there was a feeble groan, a fit of coughing and an + indistinct murmur in the broken tones of a vague plaint. Encouraged + evidently by those signs of dismal life within, Babalatchi entered the + hut, and after some time came out leading with rigid carefulness the blind + Omar, who followed with both his hands on his guide’s shoulders. There was + a rude seat under the tree, and there Babalatchi led his old chief, who + sat down with a sigh of relief and leaned wearily against the rugged + trunk. The rays of the setting sun, darting under the spreading branches, + rested on the white-robed figure sitting with head thrown back in stiff + dignity, on the thin hands moving uneasily, and on the stolid face with + its eyelids dropped over the destroyed eyeballs; a face set into the + immobility of a plaster cast yellowed by age. + </p> + <p> + “Is the sun near its setting?” asked Omar, in a dull voice. + </p> + <p> + “Very near,” answered Babalatchi. + </p> + <p> + “Where am I? Why have I been taken away from the place which I knew—where + I, blind, could move without fear? It is like black night to those who + see. And the sun is near its setting—and I have not heard the sound + of her footsteps since the morning! Twice a strange hand has given me my + food to-day. Why? Why? Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “She is near,” said Babalatchi. + </p> + <p> + “And he?” went on Omar, with sudden eagerness, and a drop in his voice. + “Where is he? Not here. Not here!” he repeated, turning his head from side + to side as if in deliberate attempt to see. + </p> + <p> + “No! He is not here now,” said Babalatchi, soothingly. Then, after a + pause, he added very low, “But he shall soon return.” + </p> + <p> + “Return! O crafty one! Will he return? I have cursed him three times,” + exclaimed Omar, with weak violence. + </p> + <p> + “He is—no doubt—accursed,” assented Babalatchi, in a + conciliating manner—“and yet he will be here before very long—I + know!” + </p> + <p> + “You are crafty and faithless. I have made you great. You were dirt under + my feet—less than dirt,” said Omar, with tremulous energy. + </p> + <p> + “I have fought by your side many times,” said Babalatchi, calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Why did he come?” went on Omar. “Did you send him? Why did he come to + defile the air I breathe—to mock at my fate—to poison her mind + and steal her body? She has grown hard of heart to me. Hard and merciless + and stealthy like rocks that tear a ship’s life out under the smooth sea.” + He drew a long breath, struggled with his anger, then broke down suddenly. + “I have been hungry,” he continued, in a whimpering tone—“often I + have been very hungry—and cold—and neglected—and nobody + near me. She has often forgotten me—and my sons are dead, and that + man is an infidel and a dog. Why did he come? Did you show him the way?” + </p> + <p> + “He found the way himself, O Leader of the brave,” said Babalatchi, sadly. + “I only saw a way for their destruction and our own greatness. And if I + saw aright, then you shall never suffer from hunger any more. There shall + be peace for us, and glory and riches.” + </p> + <p> + “And I shall die to-morrow,” murmured Omar, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows? Those things have been written since the beginning of the + world,” whispered Babalatchi, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Do not let him come back,” exclaimed Omar. + </p> + <p> + “Neither can he escape his fate,” went on Babalatchi. “He shall come back, + and the power of men we always hated, you and I, shall crumble into dust + in our hand.” Then he added with enthusiasm, “They shall fight amongst + themselves and perish both.” + </p> + <p> + “And you shall see all this, while, I . . .” + </p> + <p> + “True!” murmured Babalatchi, regretfully. “To you life is darkness.” + </p> + <p> + “No! Flame!” exclaimed the old Arab, half rising, then falling back in his + seat. “The flame of that last day! I see it yet—the last thing I + saw! And I hear the noise of the rent earth—when they all died. And + I live to be the plaything of a crafty one,” he added, with + inconsequential peevishness. + </p> + <p> + “You are my master still,” said Babalatchi, humbly. “You are very wise—and + in your wisdom you shall speak to Syed Abdulla when he comes here—you + shall speak to him as I advised, I, your servant, the man who fought at + your right hand for many years. I have heard by a messenger that the Syed + Abdulla is coming to-night, perhaps late; for those things must be done + secretly, lest the white man, the trader up the river, should know of + them. But he will be here. There has been a surat delivered to Lakamba. In + it, Syed Abdulla says he will leave his ship, which is anchored outside + the river, at the hour of noon to-day. He will be here before daylight if + Allah wills.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with his eye fixed on the ground, and did not become aware of + Aissa’s presence till he lifted his head when he ceased speaking. She had + approached so quietly that even Omar did not hear her footsteps, and she + stood now looking at them with troubled eyes and parted lips, as if she + was going to speak; but at Babalatchi’s entreating gesture she remained + silent. Omar sat absorbed in thought. + </p> + <p> + “Ay wa! Even so!” he said at last, in a weak voice. “I am to speak your + wisdom, O Babalatchi! Tell him to trust the white man! I do not + understand. I am old and blind and weak. I do not understand. I am very + cold,” he continued, in a lower tone, moving his shoulders uneasily. He + ceased, then went on rambling in a faint whisper. “They are the sons of + witches, and their father is Satan the stoned. Sons of witches. Sons of + witches.” After a short silence he asked suddenly, in a firmer voice—“How + many white men are there here, O crafty one?” + </p> + <p> + “There are two here. Two white men to fight one another,” answered + Babalatchi, with alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “And how many will be left then? How many? Tell me, you who are wise.” + </p> + <p> + “The downfall of an enemy is the consolation of the unfortunate,” said + Babalatchi, sententiously. “They are on every sea; only the wisdom of the + Most High knows their number—but you shall know that some of them + suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Babalatchi, will they die? Will they both die?” asked Omar, in + sudden agitation. + </p> + <p> + Aissa made a movement. Babalatchi held up a warning hand. + </p> + <p> + “They shall, surely, die,” he said steadily, looking at the girl with + unflinching eye. + </p> + <p> + “Ay wa! But die soon! So that I can pass my hand over their faces when + Allah has made them stiff.” + </p> + <p> + “If such is their fate and yours,” answered Babalatchi, without + hesitation. “God is great!” + </p> + <p> + A violent fit of coughing doubled Omar up, and he rocked himself to and + fro, wheezing and moaning in turns, while Babalatchi and the girl looked + at him in silence. Then he leaned back against the tree, exhausted. + </p> + <p> + “I am alone, I am alone,” he wailed feebly, groping vaguely about with his + trembling hands. “Is there anybody near me? Is there anybody? I am afraid + of this strange place.” + </p> + <p> + “I am by your side, O Leader of the brave,” said Babalatchi, touching his + shoulder lightly. “Always by your side as in the days when we both were + young: as in the time when we both went with arms in our hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Has there been such a time, Babalatchi?” said Omar, wildly; “I have + forgotten. And now when I die there will be no man, no fearless man to + speak of his father’s bravery. There was a woman! A woman! And she has + forsaken me for an infidel dog. The hand of the Compassionate is heavy on + my head! Oh, my calamity! Oh, my shame!” + </p> + <p> + He calmed down after a while, and asked quietly— + </p> + <p> + “Is the sun set, Babalatchi?” + </p> + <p> + “It is now as low as the highest tree I can see from here,” answered + Babalatchi. + </p> + <p> + “It is the time of prayer,” said Omar, attempting to get up. + </p> + <p> + Dutifully Babalatchi helped his old chief to rise, and they walked slowly + towards the hut. Omar waited outside, while Babalatchi went in and came + out directly, dragging after him the old Arab’s praying carpet. Out of a + brass vessel he poured the water of ablution on Omar’s outstretched hands, + and eased him carefully down into a kneeling posture, for the venerable + robber was far too infirm to be able to stand. Then as Omar droned out the + first words and made his first bow towards the Holy City, Babalatchi + stepped noiselessly towards Aissa, who did not move all the time. + </p> + <p> + Aissa looked steadily at the one-eyed sage, who was approaching her slowly + and with a great show of deference. For a moment they stood facing each + other in silence. Babalatchi appeared embarrassed. With a sudden and quick + gesture she caught hold of his arm, and with the other hand pointed + towards the sinking red disc that glowed, rayless, through the floating + mists of the evening. + </p> + <p> + “The third sunset! The last! And he is not here,” she whispered; “what + have you done, man without faith? What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I have kept my word,” murmured Babalatchi, earnestly. “This + morning Bulangi went with a canoe to look for him. He is a strange man, + but our friend, and shall keep close to him and watch him without + ostentation. And at the third hour of the day I have sent another canoe + with four rowers. Indeed, the man you long for, O daughter of Omar! may + come when he likes.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is not here! I waited for him yesterday. To-day! To-morrow I shall + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Not alive!” muttered Babalatchi to himself. “And do you doubt your + power,” he went on in a louder tone—“you that to him are more + beautiful than an houri of the seventh Heaven? He is your slave.” + </p> + <p> + “A slave does run away sometimes,” she said, gloomily, “and then the + master must go and seek him out.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you want to live and die a beggar?” asked Babalatchi, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I care not,” she exclaimed, wringing her hands; and the black pupils of + her wide-open eyes darted wildly here and there like petrels before the + storm. + </p> + <p> + “Sh! Sh!” hissed Babalatchi, with a glance towards Omar. “Do you think, O + girl! that he himself would live like a beggar, even with you?” + </p> + <p> + “He is great,” she said, ardently. “He despises you all! He despises you + all! He is indeed a man!” + </p> + <p> + “You know that best,” muttered Babalatchi, with a fugitive smile—“but + remember, woman with the strong heart, that to hold him now you must be to + him like the great sea to thirsty men—a never-ceasing torment, and a + madness.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased and they stood in silence, both looking on the ground, and for a + time nothing was heard above the crackling of the fire but the intoning of + Omar glorifying the God—his God, and the Faith—his faith. Then + Babalatchi cocked his head on one side and appeared to listen intently to + the hum of voices in the big courtyard. The dull noise swelled into + distinct shouts, then into a great tumult of voices, dying away, + recommencing, growing louder, to cease again abruptly; and in those short + pauses the shrill vociferations of women rushed up, as if released, + towards the quiet heaven. Aissa and Babalatchi started, but the latter + gripped in his turn the girl’s arm and restrained her with a strong grasp. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + The little door in the heavy stockade which separated Lakamba’s private + ground from Omar’s enclosure swung back quickly, and the noble exile + appeared with disturbed mien and a naked short sword in his hand. His + turban was half unrolled, and the end trailed on the ground behind him. + His jacket was open. He breathed thickly for a moment before he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “He came in Bulangi’s boat,” he said, “and walked quietly till he was in + my presence, when the senseless fury of white men caused him to rush upon + me. I have been in great danger,” went on the ambitious nobleman in an + aggrieved tone. “Do you hear that, Babalatchi? That eater of swine aimed a + blow at my face with his unclean fist. He tried to rush amongst my + household. Six men are holding him now.” + </p> + <p> + A fresh outburst of yells stopped Lakamba’s discourse. Angry voices + shouted: “Hold him. Beat him down. Strike at his head.” + </p> + <p> + Then the clamour ceased with sudden completeness, as if strangled by a + mighty hand, and after a second of surprising silence the voice of Willems + was heard alone, howling maledictions in Malay, in Dutch, and in English. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Lakamba, speaking with unsteady lips, “he blasphemes his + God. His speech is like the raving of a mad dog. Can we hold him for ever? + He must be killed!” + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” muttered Babalatchi, looking up at Aissa, who stood with set + teeth, with gleaming eyes and distended nostrils, yet obedient to the + touch of his restraining hand. “It is the third day, and I have kept my + promise,” he said to her, speaking very low. “Remember,” he added + warningly—“like the sea to the thirsty! And now,” he said aloud, + releasing her and stepping back, “go, fearless daughter, go!” + </p> + <p> + Like an arrow, rapid and silent she flew down the enclosure, and + disappeared through the gate of the courtyard. Lakamba and Babalatchi + looked after her. They heard the renewed tumult, the girl’s clear voice + calling out, “Let him go!” Then after a pause in the din no longer than + half the human breath the name of Aissa rang in a shout loud, discordant, + and piercing, which sent through them an involuntary shudder. Old Omar + collapsed on his carpet and moaned feebly; Lakamba stared with gloomy + contempt in the direction of the inhuman sound; but Babalatchi, forcing a + smile, pushed his distinguished protector through the narrow gate in the + stockade, followed him, and closed it quickly. + </p> + <p> + The old woman, who had been most of the time kneeling by the fire, now + rose, glanced round fearfully and crouched hiding behind the tree. The + gate of the great courtyard flew open with a great clatter before a + frantic kick, and Willems darted in carrying Aissa in his arms. He rushed + up the enclosure like a tornado, pressing the girl to his breast, her arms + round his neck, her head hanging back over his arm, her eyes closed and + her long hair nearly touching the ground. They appeared for a second in + the glare of the fire, then, with immense strides, he dashed up the planks + and disappeared with his burden in the doorway of the big house. + </p> + <p> + Inside and outside the enclosure there was silence. Omar lay supporting + himself on his elbow, his terrified face with its closed eyes giving him + the appearance of a man tormented by a nightmare. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Help! Help me to rise!” he called out faintly. + </p> + <p> + The old hag, still crouching in the shadow, stared with bleared eyes at + the doorway of the big house, and took no notice of his call. He listened + for a while, then his arm gave way, and, with a deep sigh of + discouragement, he let himself fall on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + The boughs of the tree nodded and trembled in the unsteady currents of the + light wind. A leaf fluttered down slowly from some high branch and rested + on the ground, immobile, as if resting for ever, in the glow of the fire; + but soon it stirred, then soared suddenly, and flew, spinning and turning + before the breath of the perfumed breeze, driven helplessly into the dark + night that had closed over the land. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + For upwards of forty years Abdulla had walked in the way of his Lord. Son + of the rich Syed Selim bin Sali, the great Mohammedan trader of the + Straits, he went forth at the age of seventeen on his first commercial + expedition, as his father’s representative on board a pilgrim ship + chartered by the wealthy Arab to convey a crowd of pious Malays to the + Holy Shrine. That was in the days when steam was not in those seas—or, + at least, not so much as now. The voyage was long, and the young man’s + eyes were opened to the wonders of many lands. Allah had made it his fate + to become a pilgrim very early in life. This was a great favour of Heaven, + and it could not have been bestowed upon a man who prized it more, or who + made himself more worthy of it by the unswerving piety of his heart and by + the religious solemnity of his demeanour. Later on it became clear that + the book of his destiny contained the programme of a wandering life. He + visited Bombay and Calcutta, looked in at the Persian Gulf, beheld in due + course the high and barren coasts of the Gulf of Suez, and this was the + limit of his wanderings westward. He was then twenty-seven, and the + writing on his forehead decreed that the time had come for him to return + to the Straits and take from his dying father’s hands the many threads of + a business that was spread over all the Archipelago: from Sumatra to New + Guinea, from Batavia to Palawan. + </p> + <p> + Very soon his ability, his will—strong to obstinacy—his wisdom + beyond his years, caused him to be recognized as the head of a family + whose members and connections were found in every part of those seas. An + uncle here—a brother there; a father-in-law in Batavia, another in + Palembang; husbands of numerous sisters; cousins innumerable scattered + north, south, east, and west—in every place where there was trade: + the great family lay like a network over the islands. They lent money to + princes, influenced the council-rooms, faced—if need be—with + peaceful intrepidity the white rulers who held the land and the sea under + the edge of sharp swords; and they all paid great deference to Abdulla, + listened to his advice, entered into his plans—because he was wise, + pious, and fortunate. + </p> + <p> + He bore himself with the humility becoming a Believer, who never forgets, + even for one moment of his waking life, that he is the servant of the Most + High. He was largely charitable because the charitable man is the friend + of Allah, and when he walked out of his house—built of stone, just + outside the town of Penang—on his way to his godowns in the port, he + had often to snatch his hand away sharply from under the lips of men of + his race and creed; and often he had to murmur deprecating words, or even + to rebuke with severity those who attempted to touch his knees with their + finger-tips in gratitude or supplication. He was very handsome, and + carried his small head high with meek gravity. His lofty brow, straight + nose, narrow, dark face with its chiselled delicacy of feature, gave him + an aristocratic appearance which proclaimed his pure descent. His beard + was trimmed close and to a rounded point. His large brown eyes looked out + steadily with a sweetness that was belied by the expression of his + thin-lipped mouth. His aspect was serene. He had a belief in his own + prosperity which nothing could shake. + </p> + <p> + Restless, like all his people, he very seldom dwelt for many days together + in his splendid house in Penang. Owner of ships, he was often on board one + or another of them, traversing in all directions the field of his + operations. In every port he had a household—his own or that of a + relation—to hail his advent with demonstrative joy. In every port + there were rich and influential men eager to see him, there was business + to talk over, there were important letters to read: an immense + correspondence, enclosed in silk envelopes—a correspondence which + had nothing to do with the infidels of colonial post-offices, but came + into his hands by devious, yet safe, ways. It was left for him by taciturn + nakhodas of native trading craft, or was delivered with profound salaams + by travel-stained and weary men who would withdraw from his presence + calling upon Allah to bless the generous giver of splendid rewards. And + the news was always good, and all his attempts always succeeded, and in + his ears there rang always a chorus of admiration, of gratitude, of humble + entreaties. + </p> + <p> + A fortunate man. And his felicity was so complete that the good genii, who + ordered the stars at his birth, had not neglected—by a refinement of + benevolence strange in such primitive beings—to provide him with a + desire difficult to attain, and with an enemy hard to overcome. The envy + of Lingard’s political and commercial successes, and the wish to get the + best of him in every way, became Abdulla’s mania, the paramount interest + of his life, the salt of his existence. + </p> + <p> + For the last few months he had been receiving mysterious messages from + Sambir urging him to decisive action. He had found the river a couple of + years ago, and had been anchored more than once off that estuary where + the, till then, rapid Pantai, spreading slowly over the lowlands, seems to + hesitate, before it flows gently through twenty outlets; over a maze of + mudflats, sandbanks and reefs, into the expectant sea. He had never + attempted the entrance, however, because men of his race, although brave + and adventurous travellers, lack the true seamanlike instincts, and he was + afraid of getting wrecked. He could not bear the idea of the Rajah Laut + being able to boast that Abdulla bin Selim, like other and lesser men, had + also come to grief when trying to wrest his secret from him. Meantime he + returned encouraging answers to his unknown friends in Sambir, and waited + for his opportunity in the calm certitude of ultimate triumph. + </p> + <p> + Such was the man whom Lakamba and Babalatchi expected to see for the first + time on the night of Willems’ return to Aissa. Babalatchi, who had been + tormented for three days by the fear of having over-reached himself in his + little plot, now, feeling sure of his white man, felt lighthearted and + happy as he superintended the preparations in the courtyard for Abdulla’s + reception. Half-way between Lakamba’s house and the river a pile of dry + wood was made ready for the torch that would set fire to it at the moment + of Abdulla’s landing. Between this and the house again there was, ranged + in a semicircle, a set of low bamboo frames, and on those were piled all + the carpets and cushions of Lakamba’s household. It had been decided that + the reception was to take place in the open air, and that it should be + made impressive by the great number of Lakamba’s retainers, who, clad in + clean white, with their red sarongs gathered round their waists, chopper + at side and lance in hand, were moving about the compound or, gathering + into small knots, discussed eagerly the coming ceremony. + </p> + <p> + Two little fires burned brightly on the water’s edge on each side of the + landing place. A small heap of damar-gum torches lay by each, and between + them Babalatchi strolled backwards and forwards, stopping often with his + face to the river and his head on one side, listening to the sounds that + came from the darkness over the water. There was no moon and the night was + very clear overhead, but, after the afternoon breeze had expired in fitful + puffs, the vapours hung thickening over the glancing surface of the Pantai + and clung to the shore, hiding from view the middle of the stream. + </p> + <p> + A cry in the mist—then another—and, before Babalatchi could + answer, two little canoes dashed up to the landing-place, and two of the + principal citizens of Sambir, Daoud Sahamin and Hamet Bahassoen, who had + been confidentially invited to meet Abdulla, landed quickly and after + greeting Babalatchi walked up the dark courtyard towards the house. The + little stir caused by their arrival soon subsided, and another silent hour + dragged its slow length while Babalatchi tramped up and down between the + fires, his face growing more anxious with every passing moment. + </p> + <p> + At last there was heard a loud hail from down the river. At a call from + Babalatchi men ran down to the riverside and, snatching the torches, + thrust them into the fires, then waved them above their heads till they + burst into a flame. The smoke ascended in thick, wispy streams, and hung + in a ruddy cloud above the glare that lit up the courtyard and flashed + over the water, showing three long canoes manned by many paddlers lying a + little off; the men in them lifting their paddles on high and dipping them + down together, in an easy stroke that kept the small flotilla motionless + in the strong current, exactly abreast of the landing-place. A man stood + up in the largest craft and called out— + </p> + <p> + “Syed Abdulla bin Selim is here!” + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi answered aloud in a formal tone— + </p> + <p> + “Allah gladdens our hearts! Come to the land!” + </p> + <p> + Abdulla landed first, steadying himself by the help of Babalatchi’s + extended hand. In the short moment of his passing from the boat to the + shore they exchanged sharp glances and a few rapid words. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Babalatchi. The friend of Omar. The protected of Lakamba.” + </p> + <p> + “You wrote?” + </p> + <p> + “My words were written, O Giver of alms!” + </p> + <p> + And then Abdulla walked with composed face between the two lines of men + holding torches, and met Lakamba in front of the big fire that was + crackling itself up into a great blaze. For a moment they stood with + clasped hands invoking peace upon each other’s head, then Lakamba, still + holding his honoured guest by the hand, led him round the fire to the + prepared seats. Babalatchi followed close behind his protector. Abdulla + was accompanied by two Arabs. He, like his companions, was dressed in a + white robe of starched muslin, which fell in stiff folds straight from the + neck. It was buttoned from the throat halfway down with a close row of + very small gold buttons; round the tight sleeves there was a narrow braid + of gold lace. On his shaven head he wore a small skull-cap of plaited + grass. He was shod in patent leather slippers over his naked feet. A + rosary of heavy wooden beads hung by a round turn from his right wrist. He + sat down slowly in the place of honour, and, dropping his slippers, tucked + up his legs under him decorously. + </p> + <p> + The improvised divan was arranged in a wide semi-circle, of which the + point most distant from the fire—some ten yards—was also the + nearest to Lakamba’s dwelling. As soon as the principal personages were + seated, the verandah of the house was filled silently by the muffled-up + forms of Lakamba’s female belongings. They crowded close to the rail and + looked down, whispering faintly. Below, the formal exchange of compliments + went on for some time between Lakamba and Abdulla, who sat side by side. + Babalatchi squatted humbly at his protector’s feet, with nothing but a + thin mat between himself and the hard ground. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a pause. Abdulla glanced round in an expectant manner, and + after a while Babalatchi, who had been sitting very still in a pensive + attitude, seemed to rouse himself with an effort, and began to speak in + gentle and persuasive tones. He described in flowing sentences the first + beginnings of Sambir, the dispute of the present ruler, Patalolo, with the + Sultan of Koti, the consequent troubles ending with the rising of Bugis + settlers under the leadership of Lakamba. At different points of the + narrative he would turn for confirmation to Sahamin and Bahassoen, who sat + listening eagerly and assented together with a “Betul! Betul! Right! + Right!” ejaculated in a fervent undertone. + </p> + <p> + Warming up with his subject as the narrative proceeded, Babalatchi went on + to relate the facts connected with Lingard’s action at the critical period + of those internal dissensions. He spoke in a restrained voice still, but + with a growing energy of indignation. What was he, that man of fierce + aspect, to keep all the world away from them? Was he a government? Who + made him ruler? He took possession of Patalolo’s mind and made his heart + hard; he put severe words into his mouth and caused his hand to strike + right and left. That unbeliever kept the Faithful panting under the weight + of his senseless oppression. They had to trade with him—accept such + goods as he would give—such credit as he would accord. And he + exacted payment every year . . . + </p> + <p> + “Very true!” exclaimed Sahamin and Bahassoen together. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi glanced at them approvingly and turned to Abdulla. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to those men, O Protector of the oppressed!” he exclaimed. “What + could we do? A man must trade. There was nobody else.” + </p> + <p> + Sahamin got up, staff in hand, and spoke to Abdulla with ponderous + courtesy, emphasizing his words by the solemn flourishes of his right arm. + </p> + <p> + “It is so. We are weary of paying our debts to that white man here, who is + the son of the Rajah Laut. That white man—may the grave of his + mother be defiled!—is not content to hold us all in his hand with a + cruel grasp. He seeks to cause our very death. He trades with the Dyaks of + the forest, who are no better than monkeys. He buys from them guttah and + rattans—while we starve. Only two days ago I went to him and said, + ‘Tuan Almayer’—even so; we must speak politely to that friend of + Satan—‘Tuan Almayer, I have such and such goods to sell. Will you + buy?’ And he spoke thus—because those white men have no + understanding of any courtesy—he spoke to me as if I was a slave: + ‘Daoud, you are a lucky man’—remark, O First amongst the Believers! + that by those words he could have brought misfortune on my head—‘you + are a lucky man to have anything in these hard times. Bring your goods + quickly, and I shall receive them in payment of what you owe me from last + year.’ And he laughed, and struck me on the shoulder with his open hand. + May Jehannum be his lot!” + </p> + <p> + “We will fight him,” said young Bahassoen, crisply. “We shall fight if + there is help and a leader. Tuan Abdulla, will you come among us?” + </p> + <p> + Abdulla did not answer at once. His lips moved in an inaudible whisper and + the beads passed through his fingers with a dry click. All waited in + respectful silence. “I shall come if my ship can enter this river,” said + Abdulla at last, in a solemn tone. + </p> + <p> + “It can, Tuan,” exclaimed Babalatchi. “There is a white man here who . . + .” + </p> + <p> + “I want to see Omar el Badavi and that white man you wrote about,” + interrupted Abdulla. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi got on his feet quickly, and there was a general move. + </p> + <p> + The women on the verandah hurried indoors, and from the crowd that had + kept discreetly in distant parts of the courtyard a couple of men ran with + armfuls of dry fuel, which they cast upon the fire. One of them, at a sign + from Babalatchi, approached and, after getting his orders, went towards + the little gate and entered Omar’s enclosure. While waiting for his + return, Lakamba, Abdulla, and Babalatchi talked together in low tones. + Sahamin sat by himself chewing betel-nut sleepily with a slight and + indolent motion of his heavy jaw. Bahassoen, his hand on the hilt of his + short sword, strutted backwards and forwards in the full light of the + fire, looking very warlike and reckless; the envy and admiration of + Lakamba’s retainers, who stood in groups or flitted about noiselessly in + the shadows of the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + The messenger who had been sent to Omar came back and stood at a distance, + waiting till somebody noticed him. Babalatchi beckoned him close. + </p> + <p> + “What are his words?” asked Babalatchi. + </p> + <p> + “He says that Syed Abdulla is welcome now,” answered the man. + </p> + <p> + Lakamba was speaking low to Abdulla, who listened to him with deep + interest. + </p> + <p> + “. . . We could have eighty men if there was need,” he was saying—“eighty + men in fourteen canoes. The only thing we want is gunpowder . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Hai! there will be no fighting,” broke in Babalatchi. “The fear of your + name will be enough and the terror of your coming.” + </p> + <p> + “There may be powder too,” muttered Abdulla with great nonchalance, “if + only the ship enters the river safely.” + </p> + <p> + “If the heart is stout the ship will be safe,” said Babalatchi. “We will + go now and see Omar el Badavi and the white man I have here.” + </p> + <p> + Lakamba’s dull eyes became animated suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Tuan Abdulla,” he said, “take care. The behaviour of that + unclean white madman is furious in the extreme. He offered to strike . . + .” + </p> + <p> + “On my head, you are safe, O Giver of alms!” interrupted Babalatchi. + </p> + <p> + Abdulla looked from one to the other, and the faintest flicker of a + passing smile disturbed for a moment his grave composure. He turned to + Babalatchi, and said with decision— + </p> + <p> + “Let us go.” + </p> + <p> + “This way, O Uplifter of our hearts!” rattled on Babalatchi, with fussy + deference. “Only a very few paces and you shall behold Omar the brave, and + a white man of great strength and cunning. This way.” + </p> + <p> + He made a sign for Lakamba to remain behind, and with respectful touches + on the elbow steered Abdulla towards the gate at the upper end of the + court-yard. As they walked on slowly, followed by the two Arabs, he kept + on talking in a rapid undertone to the great man, who never looked at him + once, although appearing to listen with flattering attention. When near + the gate Babalatchi moved forward and stopped, facing Abdulla, with his + hand on the fastenings. + </p> + <p> + “You shall see them both,” he said. “All my words about them are true. + When I saw him enslaved by the one of whom I spoke, I knew he would be + soft in my hand like the mud of the river. At first he answered my talk + with bad words of his own language, after the manner of white men. + Afterwards, when listening to the voice he loved, he hesitated. He + hesitated for many days—too many. I, knowing him well, made Omar + withdraw here with his . . . household. Then this red-faced man raged for + three days like a black panther that is hungry. And this evening, this + very evening, he came. I have him here. He is in the grasp of one with a + merciless heart. I have him here,” ended Babalatchi, exultingly tapping + the upright of the gate with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “That is good,” murmured Abdulla. + </p> + <p> + “And he shall guide your ship and lead in the fight—if fight there + be,” went on Babalatchi. “If there is any killing—let him be the + slayer. You should give him arms—a short gun that fires many times.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, by Allah!” assented Abdulla, with slow thoughtfulness. + </p> + <p> + “And you will have to open your hand, O First amongst the generous!” + continued Babalatchi. “You will have to satisfy the rapacity of a white + man, and also of one who is not a man, and therefore greedy of ornaments.” + </p> + <p> + “They shall be satisfied,” said Abdulla; “but . . .” He hesitated, looking + down on the ground and stroking his beard, while Babalatchi waited, + anxious, with parted lips. After a short time he spoke again jerkily in an + indistinct whisper, so that Babalatchi had to turn his head to catch the + words. “Yes. But Omar is the son of my father’s uncle . . . and all + belonging to him are of the Faith . . . while that man is an unbeliever. + It is most unseemly . . . very unseemly. He cannot live under my shadow. + Not that dog. Penitence! I take refuge with my God,” he mumbled rapidly. + “How can he live under my eyes with that woman, who is of the Faith? + Scandal! O abomination!” + </p> + <p> + He finished with a rush and drew a long breath, then added dubiously— + </p> + <p> + “And when that man has done all we want, what is to be done with him?” + </p> + <p> + They stood close together, meditative and silent, their eyes roaming idly + over the courtyard. The big bonfire burned brightly, and a wavering splash + of light lay on the dark earth at their feet, while the lazy smoke + wreathed itself slowly in gleaming coils amongst the black boughs of the + trees. They could see Lakamba, who had returned to his place, sitting + hunched up spiritlessly on the cushions, and Sahamin, who had got on his + feet again and appeared to be talking to him with dignified animation. Men + in twos or threes came out of the shadows into the light, strolling + slowly, and passed again into the shadows, their faces turned to each + other, their arms moving in restrained gestures. Bahassoen, his head + proudly thrown back, his ornaments, embroideries, and sword-hilt flashing + in the light, circled steadily round the fire like a planet round the sun. + A cool whiff of damp air came from the darkness of the riverside; it made + Abdulla and Babalatchi shiver, and woke them up from their abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “Open the gate and go first,” said Abdulla; “there is no danger?” + </p> + <p> + “On my life, no!” answered Babalatchi, lifting the rattan ring. “He is all + peace and content, like a thirsty man who has drunk water after many + days.” + </p> + <p> + He swung the gate wide, made a few paces into the gloom of the enclosure, + and retraced his steps suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “He may be made useful in many ways,” he whispered to Abdulla, who had + stopped short, seeing him come back. + </p> + <p> + “O Sin! O Temptation!” sighed out Abdulla, faintly. “Our refuge is with + the Most High. Can I feed this infidel for ever and for ever?” he added, + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “No,” breathed out Babalatchi. “No! Not for ever. Only while he serves + your designs, O Dispenser of Allah’s gifts! When the time comes—and + your order . . .” + </p> + <p> + He sidled close to Abdulla, and brushed with a delicate touch the hand + that hung down listlessly, holding the prayer-beads. + </p> + <p> + “I am your slave and your offering,” he murmured, in a distinct and polite + tone, into Abdulla’s ear. “When your wisdom speaks, there may be found a + little poison that will not lie. Who knows?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + Babalatchi saw Abdulla pass through the low and narrow entrance into the + darkness of Omar’s hut; heard them exchange the usual greetings and the + distinguished visitor’s grave voice asking: “There is no misfortune—please + God—but the sight?” and then, becoming aware of the disapproving + looks of the two Arabs who had accompanied Abdulla, he followed their + example and fell back out of earshot. He did it unwillingly, although he + did not ignore that what was going to happen in there was now absolutely + beyond his control. He roamed irresolutely about for awhile, and at last + wandered with careless steps towards the fire, which had been moved, from + under the tree, close to the hut and a little to windward of its entrance. + He squatted on his heels and began playing pensively with live embers, as + was his habit when engrossed in thought, withdrawing his hand sharply and + shaking it above his head when he burnt his fingers in a fit of deeper + abstraction. Sitting there he could hear the murmur of the talk inside the + hut, and he could distinguish the voices but not the words. Abdulla spoke + in deep tones, and now and then this flowing monotone was interrupted by a + querulous exclamation, a weak moan or a plaintive quaver of the old man. + Yes. It was annoying not to be able to make out what they were saying, + thought Babalatchi, as he sat gazing fixedly at the unsteady glow of the + fire. But it will be right. All will be right. Abdulla inspired him with + confidence. He came up fully to his expectation. From the very first + moment when he set his eye on him he felt sure that this man—whom he + had known by reputation only—was very resolute. Perhaps too + resolute. Perhaps he would want to grasp too much later on. A shadow + flitted over Babalatchi’s face. On the eve of the accomplishment of his + desires he felt the bitter taste of that drop of doubt which is mixed with + the sweetness of every success. + </p> + <p> + When, hearing footsteps on the verandah of the big house, he lifted his + head, the shadow had passed away and on his face there was an expression + of watchful alertness. Willems was coming down the plankway, into the + courtyard. The light within trickled through the cracks of the badly + joined walls of the house, and in the illuminated doorway appeared the + moving form of Aissa. She also passed into the night outside and + disappeared from view. Babalatchi wondered where she had got to, and for + the moment forgot the approach of Willems. The voice of the white man + speaking roughly above his head made him jump to his feet as if impelled + upwards by a powerful spring. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Abdulla?” + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi waved his hand towards the hut and stood listening intently. + The voices within had ceased, then recommenced again. He shot an oblique + glance at Willems, whose indistinct form towered above the glow of dying + embers. + </p> + <p> + “Make up this fire,” said Willems, abruptly. “I want to see your face.” + </p> + <p> + With obliging alacrity Babalatchi put some dry brushwood on the coals from + a handy pile, keeping all the time a watchful eye on Willems. When he + straightened himself up his hand wandered almost involuntarily towards his + left side to feel the handle of a kriss amongst the folds of his sarong, + but he tried to look unconcerned under the angry stare. + </p> + <p> + “You are in good health, please God?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” answered Willems, with an unexpected loudness that caused + Babalatchi to start nervously. “Yes! . . . Health! . . . You . . .” + </p> + <p> + He made a long stride and dropped both his hands on the Malay’s shoulders. + In the powerful grip Babalatchi swayed to and fro limply, but his face was + as peaceful as when he sat—a little while ago—dreaming by the + fire. With a final vicious jerk Willems let go suddenly, and turning away + on his heel stretched his hands over the fire. Babalatchi stumbled + backwards, recovered himself, and wriggled his shoulders laboriously. + </p> + <p> + “Tse! Tse! Tse!” he clicked, deprecatingly. After a short silence he went + on with accentuated admiration: “What a man it is! What a strong man! A + man like that”—he concluded, in a tone of meditative wonder—“a + man like that could upset mountains—mountains!” + </p> + <p> + He gazed hopefully for a while at Willems’ broad shoulders, and continued, + addressing the inimical back, in a low and persuasive voice— + </p> + <p> + “But why be angry with me? With me who think only of your good? Did I not + give her refuge, in my own house? Yes, Tuan! This is my own house. I will + let you have it without any recompense because she must have a shelter. + Therefore you and she shall live here. Who can know a woman’s mind? And + such a woman! If she wanted to go away from that other place, who am I—to + say no! I am Omar’s servant. I said: ‘Gladden my heart by taking my + house.’ Did I say right?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you something,” said Willems, without changing his position; + “if she takes a fancy to go away from this place it is you who shall + suffer. I will wring your neck.” + </p> + <p> + “When the heart is full of love there is no room in it for justice,” + recommenced Babalatchi, with unmoved and persistent softness. “Why slay + me? You know, Tuan, what she wants. A splendid destiny is her desire—as + of all women. You have been wronged and cast out by your people. She knows + that. But you are brave, you are strong—you are a man; and, Tuan—I + am older than you—you are in her hand. Such is the fate of strong + men. And she is of noble birth and cannot live like a slave. You know her—and + you are in her hand. You are like a snared bird, because of your strength. + And—remember I am a man that has seen much—submit, Tuan! + Submit! . . . Or else . . .” + </p> + <p> + He drawled out the last words in a hesitating manner and broke off his + sentence. Still stretching his hands in turns towards the blaze and + without moving his head, Willems gave a short, lugubrious laugh, and asked— + </p> + <p> + “Or else what?” + </p> + <p> + “She may go away again. Who knows?” finished Babalatchi, in a gentle and + insinuating tone. + </p> + <p> + This time Willems spun round sharply. Babalatchi stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “If she does it will be the worse for you,” said Willems, in a menacing + voice. “It will be your doing, and I . . .” + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi spoke, from beyond the circle of light, with calm disdain. + </p> + <p> + “Hai—ya! I have heard before. If she goes—then I die. Good! + Will that bring her back do you think—Tuan? If it is my doing it + shall be well done, O white man! and—who knows—you will have + to live without her.” + </p> + <p> + Willems gasped and started back like a confident wayfarer who, pursuing a + path he thinks safe, should see just in time a bottomless chasm under his + feet. Babalatchi came into the light and approached Willems sideways, with + his head thrown back and a little on one side so as to bring his only eye + to bear full on the countenance of the tall white man. + </p> + <p> + “You threaten me,” said Willems, indistinctly. + </p> + <p> + “I, Tuan!” exclaimed Babalatchi, with a slight suspicion of irony in the + affected surprise of his tone. “I, Tuan? Who spoke of death? Was it I? No! + I spoke of life only. Only of life. Of a long life for a lonely man!” + </p> + <p> + They stood with the fire between them, both silent, both aware, each in + his own way, of the importance of the passing minutes. Babalatchi’s + fatalism gave him only an insignificant relief in his suspense, because no + fatalism can kill the thought of the future, the desire of success, the + pain of waiting for the disclosure of the immutable decrees of Heaven. + Fatalism is born of the fear of failure, for we all believe that we carry + success in our own hands, and we suspect that our hands are weak. + Babalatchi looked at Willems and congratulated himself upon his ability to + manage that white man. There was a pilot for Abdulla—a victim to + appease Lingard’s anger in case of any mishap. He would take good care to + put him forward in everything. In any case let the white men fight it out + amongst themselves. They were fools. He hated them—the strong fools—and + knew that for his righteous wisdom was reserved the safe triumph. + </p> + <p> + Willems measured dismally the depth of his degradation. He—a white + man, the admired of white men, was held by those miserable savages whose + tool he was about to become. He felt for them all the hate of his race, of + his morality, of his intelligence. He looked upon himself with dismay and + pity. She had him. He had heard of such things. He had heard of women who + . . . He would never believe such stories. . . . Yet they were true. But + his own captivity seemed more complete, terrible, and final—without + the hope of any redemption. He wondered at the wickedness of Providence + that had made him what he was; that, worse still, permitted such a + creature as Almayer to live. He had done his duty by going to him. Why did + he not understand? All men were fools. He gave him his chance. The fellow + did not see it. It was hard, very hard on himself—Willems. He wanted + to take her from amongst her own people. That’s why he had condescended to + go to Almayer. He examined himself. With a sinking heart he thought that + really he could not—somehow—live without her. It was terrible + and sweet. He remembered the first days. Her appearance, her face, her + smile, her eyes, her words. A savage woman! Yet he perceived that he could + think of nothing else but of the three days of their separation, of the + few hours since their reunion. Very well. If he could not take her away, + then he would go to her. . . . He had, for a moment, a wicked pleasure in + the thought that what he had done could not be undone. He had given + himself up. He felt proud of it. He was ready to face anything, do + anything. He cared for nothing, for nobody. He thought himself very + fearless, but as a matter of fact he was only drunk; drunk with the poison + of passionate memories. + </p> + <p> + He stretched his hands over the fire, looked round and called out— + </p> + <p> + “Aissa!” + </p> + <p> + She must have been near, for she appeared at once within the light of the + fire. The upper part of her body was wrapped up in the thick folds of a + head covering which was pulled down over her brow, and one end of it + thrown across from shoulder to shoulder hid the lower part of her face. + Only her eyes were visible—sombre and gleaming like a starry night. + </p> + <p> + Willems, looking at this strange, muffled figure, felt exasperated, amazed + and helpless. The ex-confidential clerk of the rich Hudig would hug to his + breast settled conceptions of respectable conduct. He sought refuge within + his ideas of propriety from the dismal mangroves, from the darkness of the + forests and of the heathen souls of the savages that were his masters. She + looked like an animated package of cheap cotton goods! It made him + furious. She had disguised herself so because a man of her race was near! + He told her not to do it, and she did not obey. Would his ideas ever + change so as to agree with her own notions of what was becoming, proper + and respectable? He was really afraid they would, in time. It seemed to + him awful. She would never change! This manifestation of her sense of + proprieties was another sign of their hopeless diversity; something like + another step downwards for him. She was too different from him. He was so + civilized! It struck him suddenly that they had nothing in common—not + a thought, not a feeling; he could not make clear to her the simplest + motive of any act of his . . . and he could not live without her. + </p> + <p> + The courageous man who stood facing Babalatchi gasped unexpectedly with a + gasp that was half a groan. This little matter of her veiling herself + against his wish acted upon him like a disclosure of some great disaster. + It increased his contempt for himself as the slave of a passion he had + always derided, as the man unable to assert his will. This will, all his + sensations, his personality—all this seemed to be lost in the + abominable desire, in the priceless promise of that woman. He was not, of + course, able to discern clearly the causes of his misery; but there are + none so ignorant as not to know suffering, none so simple as not to feel + and suffer from the shock of warring impulses. The ignorant must feel and + suffer from their complexity as well as the wisest; but to them the pain + of struggle and defeat appears strange, mysterious, remediable and unjust. + He stood watching her, watching himself. He tingled with rage from head to + foot, as if he had been struck in the face. Suddenly he laughed; but his + laugh was like a distorted echo of some insincere mirth very far away. + </p> + <p> + From the other side of the fire Babalatchi spoke hurriedly— + </p> + <p> + “Here is Tuan Abdulla.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + Directly on stepping outside Omar’s hut Abdulla caught sight of Willems. + He expected, of course, to see a white man, but not that white man, whom + he knew so well. Everybody who traded in the islands, and who had any + dealings with Hudig, knew Willems. For the last two years of his stay in + Macassar the confidential clerk had been managing all the local trade of + the house under a very slight supervision only on the part of the master. + So everybody knew Willems, Abdulla amongst others—but he was + ignorant of Willems’ disgrace. As a matter of fact the thing had been kept + very quiet—so quiet that a good many people in Macassar were + expecting Willems’ return there, supposing him to be absent on some + confidential mission. Abdulla, in his surprise, hesitated on the + threshold. He had prepared himself to see some seaman—some old + officer of Lingard’s; a common man—perhaps difficult to deal with, + but still no match for him. Instead, he saw himself confronted by an + individual whose reputation for sagacity in business was well known to + him. How did he get here, and why? Abdulla, recovering from his surprise, + advanced in a dignified manner towards the fire, keeping his eyes fixed + steadily on Willems. When within two paces from Willems he stopped and + lifted his right hand in grave salutation. Willems nodded slightly and + spoke after a while. + </p> + <p> + “We know each other, Tuan Abdulla,” he said, with an assumption of easy + indifference. + </p> + <p> + “We have traded together,” answered Abdulla, solemnly, “but it was far + from here.” + </p> + <p> + “And we may trade here also,” said Willems. + </p> + <p> + “The place does not matter. It is the open mind and the true heart that + are required in business.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true. My heart is as open as my mind. I will tell you why I am + here.” + </p> + <p> + “What need is there? In leaving home one learns life. You travel. + Travelling is victory! You shall return with much wisdom.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never return,” interrupted Willems. “I have done with my people. + I am a man without brothers. Injustice destroys fidelity.” + </p> + <p> + Abdulla expressed his surprise by elevating his eyebrows. At the same time + he made a vague gesture with his arm that could be taken as an equivalent + of an approving and conciliating “just so!” + </p> + <p> + Till then the Arab had not taken any notice of Aissa, who stood by the + fire, but now she spoke in the interval of silence following Willems’ + declaration. In a voice that was much deadened by her wrappings she + addressed Abdulla in a few words of greeting, calling him a kinsman. + Abdulla glanced at her swiftly for a second, and then, with perfect good + breeding, fixed his eyes on the ground. She put out towards him her hand, + covered with a corner of her face-veil, and he took it, pressed it twice, + and dropping it turned towards Willems. She looked at the two men + searchingly, then backed away and seemed to melt suddenly into the night. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you came for, Tuan Abdulla,” said Willems; “I have been told + by that man there.” He nodded towards Babalatchi, then went on slowly, “It + will be a difficult thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Allah makes everything easy,” interjected Babalatchi, piously, from a + distance. + </p> + <p> + The two men turned quickly and stood looking at him thoughtfully, as if in + deep consideration of the truth of that proposition. Under their sustained + gaze Babalatchi experienced an unwonted feeling of shyness, and dared not + approach nearer. At last Willems moved slightly, Abdulla followed readily, + and they both walked down the courtyard, their voices dying away in the + darkness. Soon they were heard returning, and the voices grew distinct as + their forms came out of the gloom. By the fire they wheeled again, and + Babalatchi caught a few words. Willems was saying— + </p> + <p> + “I have been at sea with him many years when young. I have used my + knowledge to observe the way into the river when coming in, this time.” + </p> + <p> + Abdulla assented in general terms. + </p> + <p> + “In the variety of knowledge there is safety,” he said; and then they + passed out of earshot. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi ran to the tree and took up his position in the solid blackness + under its branches, leaning against the trunk. There he was about midway + between the fire and the other limit of the two men’s walk. They passed + him close. Abdulla slim, very straight, his head high, and his hands + hanging before him and twisting mechanically the string of beads; Willems + tall, broad, looking bigger and stronger in contrast to the slight white + figure by the side of which he strolled carelessly, taking one step to the + other’s two; his big arms in constant motion as he gesticulated + vehemently, bending forward to look Abdulla in the face. + </p> + <p> + They passed and repassed close to Babalatchi some half a dozen times, and, + whenever they were between him and the fire, he could see them plain + enough. Sometimes they would stop short, Willems speaking emphatically, + Abdulla listening with rigid attention, then, when the other had ceased, + bending his head slightly as if consenting to some demand, or admitting + some statement. Now and then Babalatchi caught a word here and there, a + fragment of a sentence, a loud exclamation. Impelled by curiosity he crept + to the very edge of the black shadow under the tree. They were nearing + him, and he heard Willems say— + </p> + <p> + “You will pay that money as soon as I come on board. That I must have.” + </p> + <p> + He could not catch Abdulla’s reply. When they went past again, Willems was + saying— + </p> + <p> + “My life is in your hand anyway. The boat that brings me on board your + ship shall take the money to Omar. You must have it ready in a sealed + bag.” + </p> + <p> + Again they were out of hearing, but instead of coming back they stopped by + the fire facing each other. Willems moved his arm, shook his hand on high + talking all the time, then brought it down jerkily—stamped his foot. + A short period of immobility ensued. Babalatchi, gazing intently, saw + Abdulla’s lips move almost imperceptibly. Suddenly Willems seized the + Arab’s passive hand and shook it. Babalatchi drew the long breath of + relieved suspense. The conference was over. All well, apparently. + </p> + <p> + He ventured now to approach the two men, who saw him and waited in + silence. Willems had retired within himself already, and wore a look of + grim indifference. Abdulla moved away a step or two. Babalatchi looked at + him inquisitively. + </p> + <p> + “I go now,” said Abdulla, “and shall wait for you outside the river, Tuan + Willems, till the second sunset. You have only one word, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Only one word,” repeated Willems. + </p> + <p> + Abdulla and Babalatchi walked together down the enclosure, leaving the + white man alone by the fire. The two Arabs who had come with Abdulla + preceded them and passed at once through the little gate into the light + and the murmur of voices of the principal courtyard, but Babalatchi and + Abdulla stopped on this side of it. Abdulla said— + </p> + <p> + “It is well. We have spoken of many things. He consents.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked Babalatchi, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “On the second day from this. I have promised every thing. I mean to keep + much.” + </p> + <p> + “Your hand is always open, O Most Generous amongst Believers! You will not + forget your servant who called you here. Have I not spoken the truth? She + has made roast meat of his heart.” + </p> + <p> + With a horizontal sweep of his arm Abdulla seemed to push away that last + statement, and said slowly, with much meaning— + </p> + <p> + “He must be perfectly safe; do you understand? Perfectly safe—as if + he was amongst his own people—till . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Till when?” whispered Babalatchi. + </p> + <p> + “Till I speak,” said Abdulla. “As to Omar.” He hesitated for a moment, + then went on very low: “He is very old.” + </p> + <p> + “Hai-ya! Old and sick,” murmured Babalatchi, with sudden melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “He wanted me to kill that white man. He begged me to have him killed at + once,” said Abdulla, contemptuously, moving again towards the gate. + </p> + <p> + “He is impatient, like those who feel death near them,” exclaimed + Babalatchi, apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “Omar shall dwell with me,” went on Abdulla, “when . . . But no matter. + Remember! The white man must be safe.” + </p> + <p> + “He lives in your shadow,” answered Babalatchi, solemnly. “It is enough!” + He touched his forehead and fell back to let Abdulla go first. + </p> + <p> + And now they are back in the courtyard wherefrom, at their appearance, + listlessness vanishes, and all the faces become alert and interested once + more. Lakamba approaches his guest, but looks at Babalatchi, who reassures + him by a confident nod. Lakamba clumsily attempts a smile, and looking, + with natural and ineradicable sulkiness, from under his eyebrows at the + man whom he wants to honour, asks whether he would condescend to visit the + place of sitting down and take food. Or perhaps he would prefer to give + himself up to repose? The house is his, and what is in it, and those many + men that stand afar watching the interview are his. Syed Abdulla presses + his host’s hand to his breast, and informs him in a confidential murmur + that his habits are ascetic and his temperament inclines to melancholy. No + rest; no food; no use whatever for those many men who are his. Syed + Abdulla is impatient to be gone. Lakamba is sorrowful but polite, in his + hesitating, gloomy way. Tuan Abdulla must have fresh boatmen, and many, to + shorten the dark and fatiguing road. Hai-ya! There! Boats! + </p> + <p> + By the riverside indistinct forms leap into a noisy and disorderly + activity. There are cries, orders, banter, abuse. Torches blaze sending + out much more smoke than light, and in their red glare Babalatchi comes up + to say that the boats are ready. + </p> + <p> + Through that lurid glare Syed Abdulla, in his long white gown, seems to + glide fantastically, like a dignified apparition attended by two inferior + shades, and stands for a moment at the landing-place to take leave of his + host and ally—whom he loves. Syed Abdulla says so distinctly before + embarking, and takes his seat in the middle of the canoe under a small + canopy of blue calico stretched on four sticks. Before and behind Syed + Abdulla, the men squatting by the gunwales hold high the blades of their + paddles in readiness for a dip, all together. Ready? Not yet. Hold on all! + Syed Abdulla speaks again, while Lakamba and Babalatchi stand close on the + bank to hear his words. His words are encouraging. Before the sun rises + for the second time they shall meet, and Syed Abdulla’s ship shall float + on the waters of this river—at last! Lakamba and Babalatchi have no + doubt—if Allah wills. They are in the hands of the Compassionate. No + doubt. And so is Syed Abdulla, the great trader who does not know what the + word failure means; and so is the white man—the smartest business + man in the islands—who is lying now by Omar’s fire with his head on + Aissa’s lap, while Syed Abdulla flies down the muddy river with current + and paddles between the sombre walls of the sleeping forest; on his way to + the clear and open sea where the Lord of the Isles (formerly of Greenock, + but condemned, sold, and registered now as of Penang) waits for its owner, + and swings erratically at anchor in the currents of the capricious tide, + under the crumbling red cliffs of Tanjong Mirrah. + </p> + <p> + For some time Lakamba, Sahamin, and Bahassoen looked silently into the + humid darkness which had swallowed the big canoe that carried Abdulla and + his unvarying good fortune. Then the two guests broke into a talk + expressive of their joyful anticipations. The venerable Sahamin, as became + his advanced age, found his delight in speculation as to the activities of + a rather remote future. He would buy praus, he would send expeditions up + the river, he would enlarge his trade, and, backed by Abdulla’s capital, + he would grow rich in a very few years. Very few. Meantime it would be a + good thing to interview Almayer to-morrow and, profiting by the last day + of the hated man’s prosperity, obtain some goods from him on credit. + Sahamin thought it could be done by skilful wheedling. After all, that son + of Satan was a fool, and the thing was worth doing, because the coming + revolution would wipe all debts out. Sahamin did not mind imparting that + idea to his companions, with much senile chuckling, while they strolled + together from the riverside towards the residence. The bull-necked + Lakamba, listening with pouted lips without the sign of a smile, without a + gleam in his dull, bloodshot eyes, shuffled slowly across the courtyard + between his two guests. But suddenly Bahassoen broke in upon the old man’s + prattle with the generous enthusiasm of his youth. . . . Trading was very + good. But was the change that would make them happy effected yet? The + white man should be despoiled with a strong hand! . . . He grew excited, + spoke very loud, and his further discourse, delivered with his hand on the + hilt of his sword, dealt incoherently with the honourable topics of + throat-cutting, fire-raising, and with the far-famed valour of his + ancestors. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi remained behind, alone with the greatness of his conceptions. + The sagacious statesman of Sambir sent a scornful glance after his noble + protector and his noble protector’s friends, and then stood meditating + about that future which to the others seemed so assured. Not so to + Babalatchi, who paid the penalty of his wisdom by a vague sense of + insecurity that kept sleep at arm’s length from his tired body. When he + thought at last of leaving the waterside, it was only to strike a path for + himself and to creep along the fences, avoiding the middle of the + courtyard where small fires glimmered and winked as though the sinister + darkness there had reflected the stars of the serene heaven. He slunk past + the wicket-gate of Omar’s enclosure, and crept on patiently along the + light bamboo palisade till he was stopped by the angle where it joined the + heavy stockade of Lakamba’s private ground. Standing there, he could look + over the fence and see Omar’s hut and the fire before its door. He could + also see the shadow of two human beings sitting between him and the red + glow. A man and a woman. The sight seemed to inspire the careworn sage + with a frivolous desire to sing. It could hardly be called a song; it was + more in the nature of a recitative without any rhythm, delivered rapidly + but distinctly in a croaking and unsteady voice; and if Babalatchi + considered it a song, then it was a song with a purpose and, perhaps for + that reason, artistically defective. It had all the imperfections of + unskilful improvisation and its subject was gruesome. It told a tale of + shipwreck and of thirst, and of one brother killing another for the sake + of a gourd of water. A repulsive story which might have had a purpose but + possessed no moral whatever. Yet it must have pleased Babalatchi for he + repeated it twice, the second time even in louder tones than at first, + causing a disturbance amongst the white rice-birds and the wild + fruit-pigeons which roosted on the boughs of the big tree growing in + Omar’s compound. There was in the thick foliage above the singer’s head a + confused beating of wings, sleepy remarks in bird-language, a sharp stir + of leaves. The forms by the fire moved; the shadow of the woman altered + its shape, and Babalatchi’s song was cut short abruptly by a fit of soft + and persistent coughing. He did not try to resume his efforts after that + interruption, but went away stealthily to seek—if not sleep—then, + at least, repose. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> + <p> + As soon as Abdulla and his companions had left the enclosure, Aissa + approached Willems and stood by his side. He took no notice of her + expectant attitude till she touched him gently, when he turned furiously + upon her and, tearing off her face-veil, trampled upon it as though it had + been a mortal enemy. She looked at him with the faint smile of patient + curiosity, with the puzzled interest of ignorance watching the running of + a complicated piece of machinery. After he had exhausted his rage, he + stood again severe and unbending looking down at the fire, but the touch + of her fingers at the nape of his neck effaced instantly the hard lines + round his mouth; his eyes wavered uneasily; his lips trembled slightly. + Starting with the unresisting rapidity of a particle of iron—which, + quiescent one moment, leaps in the next to a powerful magnet—he + moved forward, caught her in his arms and pressed her violently to his + breast. He released her as suddenly, and she stumbled a little, stepped + back, breathed quickly through her parted lips, and said in a tone of + pleased reproof— + </p> + <p> + “O Fool-man! And if you had killed me in your strong arms what would you + have done?” + </p> + <p> + “You want to live . . . and to run away from me again,” he said gently. + “Tell me—do you?” + </p> + <p> + She moved towards him with very short steps, her head a little on one + side, hands on hips, with a slight balancing of her body: an approach more + tantalizing than an escape. He looked on, eager—charmed. She spoke + jestingly. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to say to a man who has been away three days from me? Three!” + she repeated, holding up playfully three fingers before Willems’ eyes. He + snatched at the hand, but she was on her guard and whisked it behind her + back. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she said. “I cannot be caught. But I will come. I am coming myself + because I like. Do not move. Do not touch me with your mighty hands, O + child!” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke she made a step nearer, then another. Willems did not stir. + Pressing against him she stood on tiptoe to look into his eyes, and her + own seemed to grow bigger, glistening and tender, appealing and promising. + With that look she drew the man’s soul away from him through his immobile + pupils, and from Willems’ features the spark of reason vanished under her + gaze and was replaced by an appearance of physical well-being, an ecstasy + of the senses which had taken possession of his rigid body; an ecstasy + that drove out regrets, hesitation and doubt, and proclaimed its terrible + work by an appalling aspect of idiotic beatitude. He never stirred a limb, + hardly breathed, but stood in stiff immobility, absorbing the delight of + her close contact by every pore. + </p> + <p> + “Closer! Closer!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + Slowly she raised her arms, put them over his shoulders, and clasping her + hands at the back of his neck, swung off the full length of her arms. Her + head fell back, the eyelids dropped slightly, and her thick hair hung + straight down: a mass of ebony touched by the red gleams of the fire. He + stood unyielding under the strain, as solid and motionless as one of the + big trees of the surrounding forests; and his eyes looked at the modelling + of her chin, at the outline of her neck, at the swelling lines of her + bosom, with the famished and concentrated expression of a starving man + looking at food. She drew herself up to him and rubbed her head against + his cheek slowly and gently. He sighed. She, with her hands still on his + shoulders, glanced up at the placid stars and said— + </p> + <p> + “The night is half gone. We shall finish it by this fire. By this fire you + shall tell me all: your words and Syed Abdulla’s words; and listening to + you I shall forget the three days—because I am good. Tell me—am + I good?” + </p> + <p> + He said “Yes” dreamily, and she ran off towards the big house. + </p> + <p> + When she came back, balancing a roll of fine mats on her head, he had + replenished the fire and was ready to help her in arranging a couch on the + side of it nearest to the hut. She sank down with a quick but gracefully + controlled movement, and he threw himself full length with impatient + haste, as if he wished to forestall somebody. She took his head on her + knees, and when he felt her hands touching his face, her fingers playing + with his hair, he had an expression of being taken possession of; he + experienced a sense of peace, of rest, of happiness, and of soothing + delight. His hands strayed upwards about her neck, and he drew her down so + as to have her face above his. Then he whispered—“I wish I could die + like this—now!” She looked at him with her big sombre eyes, in which + there was no responsive light. His thought was so remote from her + understanding that she let the words pass by unnoticed, like the breath of + the wind, like the flight of a cloud. Woman though she was, she could not + comprehend, in her simplicity, the tremendous compliment of that speech, + that whisper of deadly happiness, so sincere, so spontaneous, coming so + straight from the heart—like every corruption. It was the voice of + madness, of a delirious peace, of happiness that is infamous, cowardly, + and so exquisite that the debased mind refuses to contemplate its + termination: for to the victims of such happiness the moment of its + ceasing is the beginning afresh of that torture which is its price. + </p> + <p> + With her brows slightly knitted in the determined preoccupation of her own + desires, she said— + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me all. All the words spoken between you and Syed Abdulla.” + </p> + <p> + Tell what? What words? Her voice recalled back the consciousness that had + departed under her touch, and he became aware of the passing minutes every + one of which was like a reproach; of those minutes that falling, slow, + reluctant, irresistible into the past, marked his footsteps on the way to + perdition. Not that he had any conviction about it, any notion of the + possible ending on that painful road. It was an indistinct feeling, a + threat of suffering like the confused warning of coming disease, an + inarticulate monition of evil made up of fear and pleasure, of resignation + and of revolt. He was ashamed of his state of mind. After all, what was he + afraid of? Were those scruples? Why that hesitation to think, to speak of + what he intended doing? Scruples were for imbeciles. His clear duty was to + make himself happy. Did he ever take an oath of fidelity to Lingard? No. + Well then—he would not let any interest of that old fool stand + between Willems and Willems’ happiness. Happiness? Was he not, perchance, + on a false track? Happiness meant money. Much money. At least he had + always thought so till he had experienced those new sensations which . . . + </p> + <p> + Aissa’s question, repeated impatiently, interrupted his musings, and + looking up at her face shining above him in the dim light of the fire he + stretched his limbs luxuriously and obedient to her desire, he spoke + slowly and hardly above his breath. She, with her head close to his lips, + listened absorbed, interested, in attentive immobility. The many noises of + the great courtyard were hushed up gradually by the sleep that stilled all + voices and closed all eyes. Then somebody droned out a song with a nasal + drawl at the end of every verse. He stirred. She put her hand suddenly on + his lips and sat upright. There was a feeble coughing, a rustle of leaves, + and then a complete silence took possession of the land; a silence cold, + mournful, profound; more like death than peace; more hard to bear than the + fiercest tumult. As soon as she removed her hand he hastened to speak, so + insupportable to him was that stillness perfect and absolute in which his + thoughts seemed to ring with the loudness of shouts. + </p> + <p> + “Who was there making that noise?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. He is gone now,” she answered, hastily. “Tell me, you will + not return to your people; not without me. Not with me. Do you promise?” + </p> + <p> + “I have promised already. I have no people of my own. Have I not told you, + that you are everybody to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” she said, slowly, “but I like to hear you say that again—every + day, and every night, whenever I ask; and never to be angry because I ask. + I am afraid of white women who are shameless and have fierce eyes.” She + scanned his features close for a moment and added: + </p> + <p> + “Are they very beautiful? They must be.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” he whispered, thoughtfully. “And if I ever did know, + looking at you I have forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgotten! And for three days and two nights you have forgotten me also! + Why? Why were you angry with me when I spoke at first of Tuan Abdulla, in + the days when we lived beside the brook? You remembered somebody then. + Somebody in the land whence you come. Your tongue is false. You are white + indeed, and your heart is full of deception. I know it. And yet I cannot + help believing you when you talk of your love for me. But I am afraid!” + </p> + <p> + He felt flattered and annoyed by her vehemence, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am with you now. I did come back. And it was you that went away.” + </p> + <p> + “When you have helped Abdulla against the Rajah Laut, who is the first of + white men, I shall not be afraid any more,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “You must believe what I say when I tell you that there never was another + woman; that there is nothing for me to regret, and nothing but my enemies + to remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you come from?” she said, impulsive and inconsequent, in a + passionate whisper. “What is that land beyond the great sea from which you + come? A land of lies and of evil from which nothing but misfortune ever + comes to us—who are not white. Did you not at first ask me to go + there with you? That is why I went away.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never ask you again.” + </p> + <p> + “And there is no woman waiting for you there?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Willems, firmly. + </p> + <p> + She bent over him. Her lips hovered above his face and her long hair + brushed his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “You taught me the love of your people which is of the Devil,” she + murmured, and bending still lower, she said faintly, “Like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, like this!” he answered very low, in a voice that trembled slightly + with eagerness; and she pressed suddenly her lips to his while he closed + his eyes in an ecstasy of delight. + </p> + <p> + There was a long interval of silence. She stroked his head with gentle + touches, and he lay dreamily, perfectly happy but for the annoyance of an + indistinct vision of a well-known figure; a man going away from him and + diminishing in a long perspective of fantastic trees, whose every leaf was + an eye looking after that man, who walked away growing smaller, but never + getting out of sight for all his steady progress. He felt a desire to see + him vanish, a hurried impatience of his disappearance, and he watched for + it with a careful and irksome effort. There was something familiar about + that figure. Why! Himself! He gave a sudden start and opened his eyes, + quivering with the emotion of that quick return from so far, of finding + himself back by the fire with the rapidity of a flash of lightning. It had + been half a dream; he had slumbered in her arms for a few seconds. Only + the beginning of a dream—nothing more. But it was some time before + he recovered from the shock of seeing himself go away so deliberately, so + definitely, so unguardedly; and going away—where? Now, if he had not + woke up in time he would never have come back again from there; from + whatever place he was going to. He felt indignant. It was like an evasion, + like a prisoner breaking his parole—that thing slinking off + stealthily while he slept. He was very indignant, and was also astonished + at the absurdity of his own emotions. + </p> + <p> + She felt him tremble, and murmuring tender words, pressed his head to her + breast. Again he felt very peaceful with a peace that was as complete as + the silence round them. He muttered— + </p> + <p> + “You are tired, Aissa.” + </p> + <p> + She answered so low that it was like a sigh shaped into faint words. + </p> + <p> + “I shall watch your sleep, O child!” + </p> + <p> + He lay very quiet, and listened to the beating of her heart. That sound, + light, rapid, persistent, and steady; her very life beating against his + cheek, gave him a clear perception of secure ownership, strengthened his + belief in his possession of that human being, was like an assurance of the + vague felicity of the future. There were no regrets, no doubts, no + hesitation now. Had there ever been? All that seemed far away, ages ago—as + unreal and pale as the fading memory of some delirium. All the anguish, + suffering, strife of the past days; the humiliation and anger of his + downfall; all that was an infamous nightmare, a thing born in sleep to be + forgotten and leave no trace—and true life was this: this dreamy + immobility with his head against her heart that beat so steadily. + </p> + <p> + He was broad awake now, with that tingling wakefulness of the tired body + which succeeds to the few refreshing seconds of irresistible sleep, and + his wide-open eyes looked absently at the doorway of Omar’s hut. The reed + walls glistened in the light of the fire, the smoke of which, thin and + blue, drifted slanting in a succession of rings and spirals across the + doorway, whose empty blackness seemed to him impenetrable and enigmatical + like a curtain hiding vast spaces full of unexpected surprises. This was + only his fancy, but it was absorbing enough to make him accept the sudden + appearance of a head, coming out of the gloom, as part of his idle fantasy + or as the beginning of another short dream, of another vagary of his + overtired brain. A face with drooping eyelids, old, thin, and yellow, + above the scattered white of a long beard that touched the earth. A head + without a body, only a foot above the ground, turning slightly from side + to side on the edge of the circle of light as if to catch the radiating + heat of the fire on either cheek in succession. He watched it in passive + amazement, growing distinct, as if coming nearer to him, and the confused + outlines of a body crawling on all fours came out, creeping inch by inch + towards the fire, with a silent and all but imperceptible movement. He was + astounded at the appearance of that blind head dragging that crippled body + behind, without a sound, without a change in the composure of the + sightless face, which was plain one second, blurred the next in the play + of the light that drew it to itself steadily. A mute face with a kriss + between its lips. This was no dream. Omar’s face. But why? What was he + after? + </p> + <p> + He was too indolent in the happy languor of the moment to answer the + question. It darted through his brain and passed out, leaving him free to + listen again to the beating of her heart; to that precious and delicate + sound which filled the quiet immensity of the night. Glancing upwards he + saw the motionless head of the woman looking down at him in a tender gleam + of liquid white between the long eyelashes, whose shadow rested on the + soft curve of her cheek; and under the caress of that look, the uneasy + wonder and the obscure fear of that apparition, crouching and creeping in + turns towards the fire that was its guide, were lost—were drowned in + the quietude of all his senses, as pain is drowned in the flood of drowsy + serenity that follows upon a dose of opium. + </p> + <p> + He altered the position of his head by ever so little, and now could see + easily that apparition which he had seen a minute before and had nearly + forgotten already. It had moved closer, gliding and noiseless like the + shadow of some nightmare, and now it was there, very near, motionless and + still as if listening; one hand and one knee advanced; the neck stretched + out and the head turned full towards the fire. He could see the emaciated + face, the skin shiny over the prominent bones, the black shadows of the + hollow temples and sunken cheeks, and the two patches of blackness over + the eyes, over those eyes that were dead and could not see. What was the + impulse which drove out this blind cripple into the night to creep and + crawl towards that fire? He looked at him, fascinated, but the face, with + its shifting lights and shadows, let out nothing, closed and impenetrable + like a walled door. + </p> + <p> + Omar raised himself to a kneeling posture and sank on his heels, with his + hands hanging down before him. Willems, looking out of his dreamy + numbness, could see plainly the kriss between the thin lips, a bar across + the face; the handle on one side where the polished wood caught a red + gleam from the fire and the thin line of the blade running to a dull black + point on the other. He felt an inward shock, which left his body passive + in Aissa’s embrace, but filled his breast with a tumult of powerless fear; + and he perceived suddenly that it was his own death that was groping + towards him; that it was the hate of himself and the hate of her love for + him which drove this helpless wreck of a once brilliant and resolute + pirate, to attempt a desperate deed that would be the glorious and supreme + consolation of an unhappy old age. And while he looked, paralyzed with + dread, at the father who had resumed his cautious advance—blind like + fate, persistent like destiny—he listened with greedy eagerness to + the heart of the daughter beating light, rapid, and steady against his + head. + </p> + <p> + He was in the grip of horrible fear; of a fear whose cold hand robs its + victim of all will and of all power; of all wish to escape, to resist, or + to move; which destroys hope and despair alike, and holds the empty and + useless carcass as if in a vise under the coming stroke. It was not the + fear of death—he had faced danger before—it was not even the + fear of that particular form of death. It was not the fear of the end, for + he knew that the end would not come then. A movement, a leap, a shout + would save him from the feeble hand of the blind old man, from that hand + that even now was, with cautious sweeps along the ground, feeling for his + body in the darkness. It was the unreasoning fear of this glimpse into the + unknown things, into those motives, impulses, desires he had ignored, but + that had lived in the breasts of despised men, close by his side, and were + revealed to him for a second, to be hidden again behind the black mists of + doubt and deception. It was not death that frightened him: it was the + horror of bewildered life where he could understand nothing and nobody + round him; where he could guide, control, comprehend nothing and no one—not + even himself. + </p> + <p> + He felt a touch on his side. That contact, lighter than the caress of a + mother’s hand on the cheek of a sleeping child, had for him the force of a + crushing blow. Omar had crept close, and now, kneeling above him, held the + kriss in one hand while the other skimmed over his jacket up towards his + breast in gentle touches; but the blind face, still turned to the heat of + the fire, was set and immovable in its aspect of stony indifference to + things it could not hope to see. With an effort Willems took his eyes off + the deathlike mask and turned them up to Aissa’s head. She sat motionless + as if she had been part of the sleeping earth, then suddenly he saw her + big sombre eyes open out wide in a piercing stare and felt the convulsive + pressure of her hands pinning his arms along his body. A second dragged + itself out, slow and bitter, like a day of mourning; a second full of + regret and grief for that faith in her which took its flight from the + shattered ruins of his trust. She was holding him! She too! He felt her + heart give a great leap, his head slipped down on her knees, he closed his + eyes and there was nothing. Nothing! It was as if she had died; as though + her heart had leaped out into the night, abandoning him, defenceless and + alone, in an empty world. + </p> + <p> + His head struck the ground heavily as she flung him aside in her sudden + rush. He lay as if stunned, face up and, daring not move, did not see the + struggle, but heard the piercing shriek of mad fear, her low angry words; + another shriek dying out in a moan. When he got up at last he looked at + Aissa kneeling over her father, he saw her bent back in the effort of + holding him down, Omar’s contorted limbs, a hand thrown up above her head + and her quick movement grasping the wrist. He made an impulsive step + forward, but she turned a wild face to him and called out over her + shoulder— + </p> + <p> + “Keep back! Do not come near! Do not. . . .” + </p> + <p> + And he stopped short, his arms hanging lifelessly by his side, as if those + words had changed him into stone. She was afraid of his possible violence, + but in the unsettling of all his convictions he was struck with the + frightful thought that she preferred to kill her father all by herself; + and the last stage of their struggle, at which he looked as though a red + fog had filled his eyes, loomed up with an unnatural ferocity, with a + sinister meaning; like something monstrous and depraved, forcing its + complicity upon him under the cover of that awful night. He was horrified + and grateful; drawn irresistibly to her—and ready to run away. He + could not move at first—then he did not want to stir. He wanted to + see what would happen. He saw her lift, with a tremendous effort, the + apparently lifeless body into the hut, and remained standing, after they + disappeared, with the vivid image in his eyes of that head swaying on her + shoulder, the lower jaw hanging down, collapsed, passive, meaningless, + like the head of a corpse. + </p> + <p> + Then after a while he heard her voice speaking inside, harshly, with an + agitated abruptness of tone; and in answer there were groans and broken + murmurs of exhaustion. She spoke louder. He heard her saying violently—“No! + No! Never!” + </p> + <p> + And again a plaintive murmur of entreaty as of some one begging for a + supreme favour, with a last breath. Then she said— + </p> + <p> + “Never! I would sooner strike it into my own heart.” + </p> + <p> + She came out, stood panting for a short moment in the doorway, and then + stepped into the firelight. Behind her, through the darkness came the + sound of words calling the vengeance of heaven on her head, rising higher, + shrill, strained, repeating the curse over and over again—till the + voice cracked in a passionate shriek that died out into hoarse muttering + ending with a deep and prolonged sigh. She stood facing Willems, one hand + behind her back, the other raised in a gesture compelling attention, and + she listened in that attitude till all was still inside the hut. Then she + made another step forward and her hand dropped slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but misfortune,” she whispered, absently, to herself. “Nothing + but misfortune to us who are not white.” The anger and excitement died out + of her face, and she looked straight at Willems with an intense and + mournful gaze. + </p> + <p> + He recovered his senses and his power of speech with a sudden start. + </p> + <p> + “Aissa,” he exclaimed, and the words broke out through his lips with + hurried nervousness. “Aissa! How can I live here? Trust me. Believe in me. + Let us go away from here. Go very far away! Very far; you and I!” + </p> + <p> + He did not stop to ask himself whether he could escape, and how, and + where. He was carried away by the flood of hate, disgust, and contempt of + a white man for that blood which is not his blood, for that race which is + not his race; for the brown skins; for the hearts false like the sea, + blacker than night. This feeling of repulsion overmastered his reason in a + clear conviction of the impossibility for him to live with her people. He + urged her passionately to fly with him because out of all that abhorred + crowd he wanted this one woman, but wanted her away from them, away from + that race of slaves and cut-throats from which she sprang. He wanted her + for himself—far from everybody, in some safe and dumb solitude. And + as he spoke his anger and contempt rose, his hate became almost fear; and + his desire of her grew immense, burning, illogical and merciless; crying + to him through all his senses; louder than his hate, stronger than his + fear, deeper than his contempt—irresistible and certain like death + itself. + </p> + <p> + Standing at a little distance, just within the light—but on the + threshold of that darkness from which she had come—she listened, one + hand still behind her back, the other arm stretched out with the hand half + open as if to catch the fleeting words that rang around her, passionate, + menacing, imploring, but all tinged with the anguish of his suffering, all + hurried by the impatience that gnawed his breast. And while she listened + she felt a slowing down of her heart-beats as the meaning of his appeal + grew clearer before her indignant eyes, as she saw with rage and pain the + edifice of her love, her own work, crumble slowly to pieces, destroyed by + that man’s fears, by that man’s falseness. Her memory recalled the days by + the brook when she had listened to other words—to other thoughts—to + promises and to pleadings for other things, which came from that man’s + lips at the bidding of her look or her smile, at the nod of her head, at + the whisper of her lips. Was there then in his heart something else than + her image, other desires than the desires of her love, other fears than + the fear of losing her? How could that be? Had she grown ugly or old in a + moment? She was appalled, surprised and angry with the anger of unexpected + humiliation; and her eyes looked fixedly, sombre and steady, at that man + born in the land of violence and of evil wherefrom nothing but misfortune + comes to those who are not white. Instead of thinking of her caresses, + instead of forgetting all the world in her embrace, he was thinking yet of + his people; of that people that steals every land, masters every sea, that + knows no mercy and no truth—knows nothing but its own strength. O + man of strong arm and of false heart! Go with him to a far country, be + lost in the throng of cold eyes and false hearts—lose him there! + Never! He was mad—mad with fear; but he should not escape her! She + would keep him here a slave and a master; here where he was alone with + her; where he must live for her—or die. She had a right to his love + which was of her making, to the love that was in him now, while he spoke + those words without sense. She must put between him and other white men a + barrier of hate. He must not only stay, but he must also keep his promise + to Abdulla, the fulfilment of which would make her safe. + </p> + <p> + “Aissa, let us go! With you by my side I would attack them with my naked + hands. Or no! Tomorrow we shall be outside, on board Abdulla’s ship. You + shall come with me and then I could . . . If the ship went ashore by some + chance, then we could steal a canoe and escape in the confusion. . . . You + are not afraid of the sea . . . of the sea that would give me freedom . . + .” + </p> + <p> + He was approaching her gradually with extended arms, while he pleaded + ardently in incoherent words that ran over and tripped each other in the + extreme eagerness of his speech. She stepped back, keeping her distance, + her eyes on his face, watching on it the play of his doubts and of his + hopes with a piercing gaze, that seemed to search out the innermost + recesses of his thought; and it was as if she had drawn slowly the + darkness round her, wrapping herself in its undulating folds that made her + indistinct and vague. He followed her step by step till at last they both + stopped, facing each other under the big tree of the enclosure. The + solitary exile of the forests, great, motionless and solemn in his + abandonment, left alone by the life of ages that had been pushed away from + him by those pigmies that crept at his foot, towered high and straight + above their heads. He seemed to look on, dispassionate and imposing, in + his lonely greatness, spreading his branches wide in a gesture of lofty + protection, as if to hide them in the sombre shelter of innumerable + leaves; as if moved by the disdainful compassion of the strong, by the + scornful pity of an aged giant, to screen this struggle of two human + hearts from the cold scrutiny of glittering stars. + </p> + <p> + The last cry of his appeal to her mercy rose loud, vibrated under the + sombre canopy, darted among the boughs startling the white birds that + slept wing to wing—and died without an echo, strangled in the dense + mass of unstirring leaves. He could not see her face, but he heard her + sighs and the distracted murmur of indistinct words. Then, as he listened + holding his breath, she exclaimed suddenly— + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard him? He has cursed me because I love you. You brought me + suffering and strife—and his curse. And now you want to take me far + away where I would lose you, lose my life; because your love is my life + now. What else is there? Do not move,” she cried violently, as he stirred + a little—“do not speak! Take this! Sleep in peace!” + </p> + <p> + He saw a shadowy movement of her arm. Something whizzed past and struck + the ground behind him, close to the fire. Instinctively he turned round to + look at it. A kriss without its sheath lay by the embers; a sinuous dark + object, looking like something that had been alive and was now crushed, + dead and very inoffensive; a black wavy outline very distinct and still in + the dull red glow. Without thinking he moved to pick it up, stooping with + the sad and humble movement of a beggar gathering the alms flung into the + dust of the roadside. Was this the answer to his pleading, to the hot and + living words that came from his heart? Was this the answer thrown at him + like an insult, that thing made of wood and iron, insignificant and + venomous, fragile and deadly? He held it by the blade and looked at the + handle stupidly for a moment before he let it fall again at his feet; and + when he turned round he faced only the night:—the night immense, + profound and quiet; a sea of darkness in which she had disappeared without + leaving a trace. + </p> + <p> + He moved forward with uncertain steps, putting out both his hands before + him with the anguish of a man blinded suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Aissa!” he cried—“come to me at once.” + </p> + <p> + He peered and listened, but saw nothing, heard nothing. After a while the + solid blackness seemed to wave before his eyes like a curtain disclosing + movements but hiding forms, and he heard light and hurried footsteps, then + the short clatter of the gate leading to Lakamba’s private enclosure. He + sprang forward and brought up against the rough timber in time to hear the + words, “Quick! Quick!” and the sound of the wooden bar dropped on the + other side, securing the gate. With his arms thrown up, the palms against + the paling, he slid down in a heap on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Aissa,” he said, pleadingly, pressing his lips to a chink between the + stakes. “Aissa, do you hear me? Come back! I will do what you want, give + you all you desire—if I have to set the whole Sambir on fire and put + that fire out with blood. Only come back. Now! At once! Are you there? Do + you hear me? Aissa!” + </p> + <p> + On the other side there were startled whispers of feminine voices; a + frightened little laugh suddenly interrupted; some woman’s admiring murmur—“This + is brave talk!” Then after a short silence Aissa cried— + </p> + <p> + “Sleep in peace—for the time of your going is near. Now I am afraid + of you. Afraid of your fear. When you return with Tuan Abdulla you shall + be great. You will find me here. And there will be nothing but love. + Nothing else!—Always!—Till we die!” + </p> + <p> + He listened to the shuffle of footsteps going away, and staggered to his + feet, mute with the excess of his passionate anger against that being so + savage and so charming; loathing her, himself, everybody he had ever + known; the earth, the sky, the very air he drew into his oppressed chest; + loathing it because it made him live, loathing her because she made him + suffer. But he could not leave that gate through which she had passed. He + wandered a little way off, then swerved round, came back and fell down + again by the stockade only to rise suddenly in another attempt to break + away from the spell that held him, that brought him back there, dumb, + obedient and furious. And under the immobilized gesture of lofty + protection in the branches outspread wide above his head, under the high + branches where white birds slept wing to wing in the shelter of countless + leaves, he tossed like a grain of dust in a whirlwind—sinking and + rising—round and round—always near that gate. All through the + languid stillness of that night he fought with the impalpable; he fought + with the shadows, with the darkness, with the silence. He fought without a + sound, striking futile blows, dashing from side to side; obstinate, + hopeless, and always beaten back; like a man bewitched within the + invisible sweep of a magic circle. + </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 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + “Yes! Cat, dog, anything that can scratch or bite; as long as it is + harmful enough and mangy enough. A sick tiger would make you happy—of + all things. A half-dead tiger that you could weep over and palm upon some + poor devil in your power, to tend and nurse for you. Never mind the + consequences—to the poor devil. Let him be mangled or eaten up, of + course! You haven’t any pity to spare for the victims of your infernal + charity. Not you! Your tender heart bleeds only for what is poisonous and + deadly. I curse the day when you set your benevolent eyes on him. I curse + it . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Now then! Now then!” growled Lingard in his moustache. Almayer, who had + talked himself up to the choking point, drew a long breath and went on— + </p> + <p> + “Yes! It has been always so. Always. As far back as I can remember. Don’t + you recollect? What about that half-starved dog you brought on board in + Bankok in your arms. In your arms by . . . ! It went mad next day and bit + the serang. You don’t mean to say you have forgotten? The best serang you + ever had! You said so yourself while you were helping us to lash him down + to the chain-cable, just before he died in his fits. Now, didn’t you? Two + wives and ever so many children the man left. That was your doing. . . . + And when you went out of your way and risked your ship to rescue some + Chinamen from a water-logged junk in Formosa Straits, that was also a + clever piece of business. Wasn’t it? Those damned Chinamen rose on you + before forty-eight hours. They were cut-throats, those poor fishermen. You + knew they were cut-throats before you made up your mind to run down on a + lee shore in a gale of wind to save them. A mad trick! If they hadn’t been + scoundrels—hopeless scoundrels—you would not have put your + ship in jeopardy for them, I know. You would not have risked the lives of + your crew—that crew you loved so—and your own life. Wasn’t + that foolish! And, besides, you were not honest. Suppose you had been + drowned? I would have been in a pretty mess then, left alone here with + that adopted daughter of yours. Your duty was to myself first. I married + that girl because you promised to make my fortune. You know you did! And + then three months afterwards you go and do that mad trick—for a lot + of Chinamen too. Chinamen! You have no morality. I might have been ruined + for the sake of those murderous scoundrels that, after all, had to be + driven overboard after killing ever so many of your crew—of your + beloved crew! Do you call that honest?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” muttered Lingard, chewing nervously the stump of his cheroot + that had gone out and looking at Almayer—who stamped wildly about + the verandah—much as a shepherd might look at a pet sheep in his + obedient flock turning unexpectedly upon him in enraged revolt. He seemed + disconcerted, contemptuously angry yet somewhat amused; and also a little + hurt as if at some bitter jest at his own expense. Almayer stopped + suddenly, and crossing his arms on his breast, bent his body forward and + went on speaking. + </p> + <p> + “I might have been left then in an awkward hole—all on account of + your absurd disregard for your safety—yet I bore no grudge. I knew + your weaknesses. But now—when I think of it! Now we are ruined. + Ruined! Ruined! My poor little Nina. Ruined!” + </p> + <p> + He slapped his thighs smartly, walked with small steps this way and that, + seized a chair, planted it with a bang before Lingard, and sat down + staring at the old seaman with haggard eyes. Lingard, returning his stare + steadily, dived slowly into various pockets, fished out at last a box of + matches and proceeded to light his cheroot carefully, rolling it round and + round between his lips, without taking his gaze for a moment off the + distressed Almayer. Then from behind a cloud of tobacco smoke he said + calmly— + </p> + <p> + “If you had been in trouble as often as I have, my boy, you wouldn’t carry + on so. I have been ruined more than once. Well, here I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, here you are,” interrupted Almayer. “Much good it is to me. Had you + been here a month ago it would have been of some use. But now! . . You + might as well be a thousand miles off.” + </p> + <p> + “You scold like a drunken fish-wife,” said Lingard, serenely. He got up + and moved slowly to the front rail of the verandah. The floor shook and + the whole house vibrated under his heavy step. For a moment he stood with + his back to Almayer, looking out on the river and forest of the east bank, + then turned round and gazed mildly down upon him. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very lonely this morning here. Hey?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Almayer lifted up his head. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you notice it—don’t you? I should think it is lonely! Yes, + Captain Lingard, your day is over in Sambir. Only a month ago this + verandah would have been full of people coming to greet you. Fellows would + be coming up those steps grinning and salaaming—to you and to me. + But our day is over. And not by my fault either. You can’t say that. It’s + all the doing of that pet rascal of yours. Ah! He is a beauty! You should + have seen him leading that hellish crowd. You would have been proud of + your old favourite.” + </p> + <p> + “Smart fellow that,” muttered Lingard, thoughtfully. Almayer jumped up + with a shriek. + </p> + <p> + “And that’s all you have to say! Smart fellow! O Lord!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t make a show of yourself. Sit down. Let’s talk quietly. I want to + know all about it. So he led?” + </p> + <p> + “He was the soul of the whole thing. He piloted Abdulla’s ship in. He + ordered everything and everybody,” said Almayer, who sat down again, with + a resigned air. + </p> + <p> + “When did it happen—exactly?” + </p> + <p> + “On the sixteenth I heard the first rumours of Abdulla’s ship being in the + river; a thing I refused to believe at first. Next day I could not doubt + any more. There was a great council held openly in Lakamba’s place where + almost everybody in Sambir attended. On the eighteenth the Lord of the + Isles was anchored in Sambir reach, abreast of my house. Let’s see. Six + weeks to-day, exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “And all that happened like this? All of a sudden. You never heard + anything—no warning. Nothing. Never had an idea that something was + up? Come, Almayer!” + </p> + <p> + “Heard! Yes, I used to hear something every day. Mostly lies. Is there + anything else in Sambir?” + </p> + <p> + “You might not have believed them,” observed Lingard. “In fact you ought + not to have believed everything that was told to you, as if you had been a + green hand on his first voyage.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer moved in his chair uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “That scoundrel came here one day,” he said. “He had been away from the + house for a couple of months living with that woman. I only heard about + him now and then from Patalolo’s people when they came over. Well one day, + about noon, he appeared in this courtyard, as if he had been jerked up + from hell-where he belongs.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard took his cheroot out, and, with his mouth full of white smoke that + oozed out through his parted lips, listened, attentive. After a short + pause Almayer went on, looking at the floor moodily— + </p> + <p> + “I must say he looked awful. Had a bad bout of the ague probably. The left + shore is very unhealthy. Strange that only the breadth of the river . . .” + </p> + <p> + He dropped off into deep thoughtfulness as if he had forgotten his + grievances in a bitter meditation upon the unsanitary condition of the + virgin forests on the left bank. Lingard took this opportunity to expel + the smoke in a mighty expiration and threw the stump of his cheroot over + his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said, after a while. “He came to see you . . .” + </p> + <p> + “But it wasn’t unhealthy enough to finish him, worse luck!” went on + Almayer, rousing himself, “and, as I said, he turned up here with his + brazen impudence. He bullied me, he threatened vaguely. He wanted to scare + me, to blackmail me. Me! And, by heaven—he said you would approve. + You! Can you conceive such impudence? I couldn’t exactly make out what he + was driving at. Had I known, I would have approved him. Yes! With a bang + on the head. But how could I guess that he knew enough to pilot a ship + through the entrance you always said was so difficult. And, after all, + that was the only danger. I could deal with anybody here—but when + Abdulla came. . . . That barque of his is armed. He carries twelve brass + six-pounders, and about thirty men. Desperate beggars. Sumatra men, from + Deli and Acheen. Fight all day and ask for more in the evening. That + kind.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know,” said Lingard, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, then, they were cheeky as much as you please after he anchored + abreast of our jetty. Willems brought her up himself in the best berth. I + could see him from this verandah standing forward, together with the + half-caste master. And that woman was there too. Close to him. I heard + they took her on board off Lakamba’s place. Willems said he would not go + higher without her. Stormed and raged. Frightened them, I believe. Abdulla + had to interfere. She came off alone in a canoe, and no sooner on deck + than she fell at his feet before all hands, embraced his knees, wept, + raved, begged his pardon. Why? I wonder. Everybody in Sambir is talking of + it. They never heard tell or saw anything like it. I have all this from + Ali, who goes about in the settlement and brings me the news. I had better + know what is going on—hadn’t I? From what I can make out, they—he + and that woman—are looked upon as something mysterious—beyond + comprehension. Some think them mad. They live alone with an old woman in a + house outside Lakamba’s campong and are greatly respected—or feared, + I should say rather. At least, he is. He is very violent. She knows + nobody, sees nobody, will speak to nobody but him. Never leaves him for a + moment. It’s the talk of the place. There are other rumours. From what I + hear I suspect that Lakamba and Abdulla are tired of him. There’s also + talk of him going away in the Lord of the Isles—when she leaves here + for the southward—as a kind of Abdulla’s agent. At any rate, he must + take the ship out. The half-caste is not equal to it as yet.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard, who had listened absorbed till then, began now to walk with + measured steps. Almayer ceased talking and followed him with his eyes as + he paced up and down with a quarter-deck swing, tormenting and twisting + his long white beard, his face perplexed and thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “So he came to you first of all, did he?” asked Lingard, without stopping. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I told you so. He did come. Came to extort money, goods—I + don’t know what else. Wanted to set up as a trader—the swine! I + kicked his hat into the courtyard, and he went after it, and that was the + last of him till he showed up with Abdulla. How could I know that he could + do harm in that way? Or in any way at that! Any local rising I could put + down easy with my own men and with Patalolo’s help.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes. Patalolo. No good. Eh? Did you try him at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I!” exclaimed Almayer. “I went to see him myself on the twelfth. + That was four days before Abdulla entered the river. In fact, same day + Willems tried to get at me. I did feel a little uneasy then. Patalolo + assured me that there was no human being that did not love me in Sambir. + Looked as wise as an owl. Told me not to listen to the lies of wicked + people from down the river. He was alluding to that man Bulangi, who lives + up the sea reach, and who had sent me word that a strange ship was + anchored outside—which, of course, I repeated to Patalolo. He would + not believe. Kept on mumbling ‘No! No! No!’ like an old parrot, his head + all of a tremble, all beslobbered with betel-nut juice. I thought there + was something queer about him. Seemed so restless, and as if in a hurry to + get rid of me. Well. Next day that one-eyed malefactor who lives with + Lakamba—what’s his name—Babalatchi, put in an appearance here! + Came about mid-day, casually like, and stood there on this verandah + chatting about one thing and another. Asking when I expected you, and so + on. Then, incidentally, he mentioned that they—his master and + himself—were very much bothered by a ferocious white man—my + friend—who was hanging about that woman—Omar’s daughter. Asked + my advice. Very deferential and proper. I told him the white man was not + my friend, and that they had better kick him out. Whereupon he went away + salaaming, and protesting his friendship and his master’s goodwill. Of + course I know now the infernal nigger came to spy and to talk over some of + my men. Anyway, eight were missing at the evening muster. Then I took + alarm. Did not dare to leave my house unguarded. You know what my wife is, + don’t you? And I did not care to take the child with me—it being + late—so I sent a message to Patalolo to say that we ought to + consult; that there were rumours and uneasiness in the settlement. Do you + know what answer I got?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard stopped short in his walk before Almayer, who went on, after an + impressive pause, with growing animation. + </p> + <p> + “All brought it: ‘The Rajah sends a friend’s greeting, and does not + understand the message.’ That was all. Not a word more could Ali get out + of him. I could see that Ali was pretty well scared. He hung about, + arranging my hammock—one thing and another. Then just before going + away he mentioned that the water-gate of the Rajah’s place was heavily + barred, but that he could see only very few men about the courtyard. + Finally he said, ‘There is darkness in our Rajah’s house, but no sleep. + Only darkness and fear and the wailing of women.’ Cheerful, wasn’t it? It + made me feel cold down my back somehow. After Ali slipped away I stood + here—by this table, and listened to the shouting and drumming in the + settlement. Racket enough for twenty weddings. It was a little past + midnight then.” + </p> + <p> + Again Almayer stopped in his narrative with an abrupt shutting of lips, as + if he had said all that there was to tell, and Lingard stood staring at + him, pensive and silent. A big bluebottle fly flew in recklessly into the + cool verandah, and darted with loud buzzing between the two men. Lingard + struck at it with his hat. The fly swerved, and Almayer dodged his head + out of the way. Then Lingard aimed another ineffectual blow; Almayer + jumped up and waved his arms about. The fly buzzed desperately, and the + vibration of minute wings sounded in the peace of the early morning like a + far-off string orchestra accompanying the hollow, determined stamping of + the two men, who, with heads thrown back and arms gyrating on high, or + again bending low with infuriated lunges, were intent upon killing the + intruder. But suddenly the buzz died out in a thin thrill away in the open + space of the courtyard, leaving Lingard and Almayer standing face to face + in the fresh silence of the young day, looking very puzzled and idle, + their arms hanging uselessly by their sides—like men disheartened by + some portentous failure. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that!” muttered Lingard. “Got away after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Nuisance,” said Almayer in the same tone. “Riverside is overrun with + them. This house is badly placed . . . mosquitos . . . and these big flies + . . . . last week stung Nina . . . been ill four days . . . poor child. . + . . I wonder what such damned things are made for!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + After a long silence, during which Almayer had moved towards the table and + sat down, his head between his hands, staring straight before him, + Lingard, who had recommenced walking, cleared his throat and said— + </p> + <p> + “What was it you were saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Yes! You should have seen this settlement that night. I don’t think + anybody went to bed. I walked down to the point, and could see them. They + had a big bonfire in the palm grove, and the talk went on there till the + morning. When I came back here and sat in the dark verandah in this quiet + house I felt so frightfully lonely that I stole in and took the child out + of her cot and brought her here into my hammock. If it hadn’t been for her + I am sure I would have gone mad; I felt so utterly alone and helpless. + Remember, I hadn’t heard from you for four months. Didn’t know whether you + were alive or dead. Patalolo would have nothing to do with me. My own men + were deserting me like rats do a sinking hulk. That was a black night for + me, Captain Lingard. A black night as I sat here not knowing what would + happen next. They were so excited and rowdy that I really feared they + would come and burn the house over my head. I went and brought my + revolver. Laid it loaded on the table. There were such awful yells now and + then. Luckily the child slept through it, and seeing her so pretty and + peaceful steadied me somehow. Couldn’t believe there was any violence in + this world, looking at her lying so quiet and so unconscious of what went + on. But it was very hard. Everything was at an end. You must understand + that on that night there was no government in Sambir. Nothing to restrain + those fellows. Patalolo had collapsed. I was abandoned by my own people, + and all that lot could vent their spite on me if they wanted. They know no + gratitude. How many times haven’t I saved this settlement from starvation? + Absolute starvation. Only three months ago I distributed again a lot of + rice on credit. There was nothing to eat in this infernal place. They came + begging on their knees. There isn’t a man in Sambir, big or little, who is + not in debt to Lingard & Co. Not one. You ought to be satisfied. You + always said that was the right policy for us. Well, I carried it out. Ah! + Captain Lingard, a policy like that should be backed by loaded rifles . . + .” + </p> + <p> + “You had them!” exclaimed Lingard in the midst of his promenade, that went + on more rapid as Almayer talked: the headlong tramp of a man hurrying on + to do something violent. The verandah was full of dust, oppressive and + choking, which rose under the old seaman’s feet, and made Almayer cough + again and again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I had! Twenty. And not a finger to pull a trigger. It’s easy to + talk,” he spluttered, his face very red. + </p> + <p> + Lingard dropped into a chair, and leaned back with one hand stretched out + at length upon the table, the other thrown over the back of his seat. The + dust settled, and the sun surging above the forest flooded the verandah + with a clear light. Almayer got up and busied himself in lowering the + split rattan screens that hung between the columns of the verandah. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” said Lingard, “it will be a hot day. That’s right, my boy. Keep + the sun out. We don’t want to be roasted alive here.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer came back, sat down, and spoke very calmly— + </p> + <p> + “In the morning I went across to see Patalolo. I took the child with me, + of course. I found the water-gate barred, and had to walk round through + the bushes. Patalolo received me lying on the floor, in the dark, all the + shutters closed. I could get nothing out of him but lamentations and + groans. He said you must be dead. That Lakamba was coming now with + Abdulla’s guns to kill everybody. Said he did not mind being killed, as he + was an old man, but that the wish of his heart was to make a pilgrimage. + He was tired of men’s ingratitude—he had no heirs—he wanted to + go to Mecca and die there. He would ask Abdulla to let him go. Then he + abused Lakamba—between sobs—and you, a little. You prevented + him from asking for a flag that would have been respected—he was + right there—and now when his enemies were strong he was weak, and + you were not there to help him. When I tried to put some heart into him, + telling him he had four big guns—you know the brass six-pounders you + left here last year—and that I would get powder, and that, perhaps, + together we could make head against Lakamba, he simply howled at me. No + matter which way he turned—he shrieked—the white men would be + the death of him, while he wanted only to be a pilgrim and be at peace. My + belief is,” added Almayer, after a short pause, and fixing a dull stare + upon Lingard, “that the old fool saw this thing coming for a long time, + and was not only too frightened to do anything himself, but actually too + scared to let you or me know of his suspicions. Another of your particular + pets! Well! You have a lucky hand, I must say!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard struck a sudden blow on the table with his clenched hand. There + was a sharp crack of splitting wood. Almayer started up violently, then + fell back in his chair and looked at the table. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he said, moodily, “you don’t know your own strength. This table + is completely ruined. The only table I had been able to save from my wife. + By and by I will have to eat squatting on the floor like a native.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard laughed heartily. “Well then, don’t nag at me like a woman at a + drunken husband!” He became very serious after awhile, and added, “If it + hadn’t been for the loss of the Flash I would have been here three months + ago, and all would have been well. No use crying over that. Don’t you be + uneasy, Kaspar. We will have everything ship-shape here in a very short + time.” + </p> + <p> + “What? You don’t mean to expel Abdulla out of here by force! I tell you, + you can’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” exclaimed Lingard. “That’s all over, I am afraid. Great pity. + They will suffer for it. He will squeeze them. Great pity. Damn it! I feel + so sorry for them if I had the Flash here I would try force. Eh! Why not? + However, the poor Flash is gone, and there is an end of it. Poor old + hooker. Hey, Almayer? You made a voyage or two with me. Wasn’t she a sweet + craft? Could make her do anything but talk. She was better than a wife to + me. Never scolded. Hey? . . . And to think that it should come to this. + That I should leave her poor old bones sticking on a reef as though I had + been a damned fool of a southern-going man who must have half a mile of + water under his keel to be safe! Well! well! It’s only those who do + nothing that make no mistakes, I suppose. But it’s hard. Hard.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded sadly, with his eyes on the ground. Almayer looked at him with + growing indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, you are heartless,” he burst out; “perfectly heartless—and + selfish. It does not seem to strike you—in all that—that in + losing your ship—by your recklessness, I am sure—you ruin me—us, + and my little Nina. What’s going to become of me and of her? That’s what I + want to know. You brought me here, made me your partner, and now, when + everything is gone to the devil—through your fault, mind you—you + talk about your ship . . . ship! You can get another. But here. This + trade. That’s gone now, thanks to Willems. . . . Your dear Willems!” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind about Willems. I will look after him,” said Lingard, + severely. “And as to the trade . . . I will make your fortune yet, my boy. + Never fear. Have you got any cargo for the schooner that brought me here?” + </p> + <p> + “The shed is full of rattans,” answered Almayer, “and I have about eighty + tons of guttah in the well. The last lot I ever will have, no doubt,” he + added, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “So, after all, there was no robbery. You’ve lost nothing actually. Well, + then, you must . . . Hallo! What’s the matter! . . . Here! . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Robbery! No!” screamed Almayer, throwing up his hands. + </p> + <p> + He fell back in the chair and his face became purple. A little white foam + appeared on his lips and trickled down his chin, while he lay back, + showing the whites of his upturned eyes. When he came to himself he saw + Lingard standing over him, with an empty water-chatty in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “You had a fit of some kind,” said the old seaman with much concern. “What + is it? You did give me a fright. So very sudden.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer, his hair all wet and stuck to his head, as if he had been diving, + sat up and gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Outrage! A fiendish outrage. I . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lingard put the chatty on the table and looked at him in attentive + silence. Almayer passed his hand over his forehead and went on in an + unsteady tone: + </p> + <p> + “When I remember that, I lose all control,” he said. “I told you he + anchored Abdulla’s ship abreast our jetty, but over to the other shore, + near the Rajah’s place. The ship was surrounded with boats. From here it + looked as if she had been landed on a raft. Every dugout in Sambir was + there. Through my glass I could distinguish the faces of people on the + poop—Abdulla, Willems, Lakamba—everybody. That old cringing + scoundrel Sahamin was there. I could see quite plain. There seemed to be + much talk and discussion. Finally I saw a ship’s boat lowered. Some Arab + got into her, and the boat went towards Patalolo’s landing-place. It seems + they had been refused admittance—so they say. I think myself that + the water-gate was not unbarred quick enough to please the exalted + messenger. At any rate I saw the boat come back almost directly. I was + looking on, rather interested, when I saw Willems and some more go forward—very + busy about something there. That woman was also amongst them. Ah, that + woman . . .” + </p> + <p> + Almayer choked, and seemed on the point of having a relapse, but by a + violent effort regained a comparative composure. + </p> + <p> + “All of a sudden,” he continued—“bang! They fired a shot into + Patalolo’s gate, and before I had time to catch my breath—I was + startled, you may believe—they sent another and burst the gate open. + Whereupon, I suppose, they thought they had done enough for a while, and + probably felt hungry, for a feast began aft. Abdulla sat amongst them like + an idol, cross-legged, his hands on his lap. He’s too great altogether to + eat when others do, but he presided, you see. Willems kept on dodging + about forward, aloof from the crowd, and looking at my house through the + ship’s long glass. I could not resist it. I shook my fist at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Just so,” said Lingard, gravely. “That was the thing to do, of course. If + you can’t fight a man the best thing is to exasperate him.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer waved his hand in a superior manner, and continued, unmoved: “You + may say what you like. You can’t realize my feelings. He saw me, and, with + his eye still at the small end of the glass, lifted his arm as if + answering a hail. I thought my turn to be shot at would come next after + Patalolo, so I ran up the Union Jack to the flagstaff in the yard. I had + no other protection. There were only three men besides Ali that stuck to + me—three cripples, for that matter, too sick to get away. I would + have fought singlehanded, I think, I was that angry, but there was the + child. What to do with her? Couldn’t send her up the river with the + mother. You know I can’t trust my wife. I decided to keep very quiet, but + to let nobody land on our shore. Private property, that; under a deed from + Patalolo. I was within my right—wasn’t I? The morning was very + quiet. After they had a feed on board the barque with Abdulla most of them + went home; only the big people remained. Towards three o’clock Sahamin + crossed alone in a small canoe. I went down on our wharf with my gun to + speak to him, but didn’t let him land. The old hypocrite said Abdulla sent + greetings and wished to talk with me on business; would I come on board? I + said no; I would not. Told him that Abdulla may write and I would answer, + but no interview, neither on board his ship nor on shore. I also said that + if anybody attempted to land within my fences I would shoot—no + matter whom. On that he lifted his hands to heaven, scandalized, and then + paddled away pretty smartly—to report, I suppose. An hour or so + afterwards I saw Willems land a boat party at the Rajah’s. It was very + quiet. Not a shot was fired, and there was hardly any shouting. They + tumbled those brass guns you presented to Patalolo last year down the bank + into the river. It’s deep there close to. The channel runs that way, you + know. About five, Willems went back on board, and I saw him join Abdulla + by the wheel aft. He talked a lot, swinging his arms about—seemed to + explain things—pointed at my house, then down the reach. Finally, + just before sunset, they hove upon the cable and dredged the ship down + nearly half a mile to the junction of the two branches of the river—where + she is now, as you might have seen.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That evening, after dark—I was informed—Abdulla landed for + the first time in Sambir. He was entertained in Sahamin’s house. I sent + Ali to the settlement for news. He returned about nine, and reported that + Patalolo was sitting on Abdulla’s left hand before Sahamin’s fire. There + was a great council. Ali seemed to think that Patalolo was a prisoner, but + he was wrong there. They did the trick very neatly. Before midnight + everything was arranged as I can make out. Patalolo went back to his + demolished stockade, escorted by a dozen boats with torches. It appears he + begged Abdulla to let him have a passage in the Lord of the Isles to + Penang. From there he would go to Mecca. The firing business was alluded + to as a mistake. No doubt it was in a sense. Patalolo never meant + resisting. So he is going as soon as the ship is ready for sea. He went on + board next day with three women and half a dozen fellows as old as + himself. By Abdulla’s orders he was received with a salute of seven guns, + and he has been living on board ever since—five weeks. I doubt + whether he will leave the river alive. At any rate he won’t live to reach + Penang. Lakamba took over all his goods, and gave him a draft on Abdulla’s + house payable in Penang. He is bound to die before he gets there. Don’t + you see?” + </p> + <p> + He sat silent for a while in dejected meditation, then went on: + </p> + <p> + “Of course there were several rows during the night. Various fellows took + the opportunity of the unsettled state of affairs to pay off old scores + and settle old grudges. I passed the night in that chair there, dozing + uneasily. Now and then there would be a great tumult and yelling which + would make me sit up, revolver in hand. However, nobody was killed. A few + broken heads—that’s all. Early in the morning Willems caused them to + make a fresh move which I must say surprised me not a little. As soon as + there was daylight they busied themselves in setting up a flag-pole on the + space at the other end of the settlement, where Abdulla is having his + houses built now. Shortly after sunrise there was a great gathering at the + flag-pole. All went there. Willems was standing leaning against the mast, + one arm over that woman’s shoulders. They had brought an armchair for + Patalolo, and Lakamba stood on the right hand of the old man, who made a + speech. Everybody in Sambir was there: women, slaves, children—everybody! + Then Patalolo spoke. He said that by the mercy of the Most High he was + going on a pilgrimage. The dearest wish of his heart was to be + accomplished. Then, turning to Lakamba, he begged him to rule justly + during his—Patalolo’s—absence There was a bit of play-acting + there. Lakamba said he was unworthy of the honourable burden, and Patalolo + insisted. Poor old fool! It must have been bitter to him. They made him + actually entreat that scoundrel. Fancy a man compelled to beg of a robber + to despoil him! But the old Rajah was so frightened. Anyway, he did it, + and Lakamba accepted at last. Then Willems made a speech to the crowd. + Said that on his way to the west the Rajah—he meant Patalolo—would + see the Great White Ruler in Batavia and obtain his protection for Sambir. + Meantime, he went on, I, an Orang Blanda and your friend, hoist the flag + under the shadow of which there is safety. With that he ran up a Dutch + flag to the mast-head. It was made hurriedly, during the night, of cotton + stuffs, and, being heavy, hung down the mast, while the crowd stared. Ali + told me there was a great sigh of surprise, but not a word was spoken till + Lakamba advanced and proclaimed in a loud voice that during all that day + every one passing by the flagstaff must uncover his head and salaam before + the emblem.” + </p> + <p> + “But, hang it all!” exclaimed Lingard—“Abdulla is British!” + </p> + <p> + “Abdulla wasn’t there at all—did not go on shore that day. Yet Ali, + who has his wits about him, noticed that the space where the crowd stood + was under the guns of the Lord of the Isles. They had put a coir warp + ashore, and gave the barque a cant in the current, so as to bring the + broadside to bear on the flagstaff. Clever! Eh? But nobody dreamt of + resistance. When they recovered from the surprise there was a little quiet + jeering; and Bahassoen abused Lakamba violently till one of Lakamba’s men + hit him on the head with a staff. Frightful crack, I am told. Then they + left off jeering. Meantime Patalolo went away, and Lakamba sat in the + chair at the foot of the flagstaff, while the crowd surged around, as if + they could not make up their minds to go. Suddenly there was a great noise + behind Lakamba’s chair. It was that woman, who went for Willems. Ali says + she was like a wild beast, but he twisted her wrist and made her grovel in + the dust. Nobody knows exactly what it was about. Some say it was about + that flag. He carried her off, flung her into a canoe, and went on board + Abdulla’s ship. After that Sahamin was the first to salaam to the flag. + Others followed suit. Before noon everything was quiet in the settlement, + and Ali came back and told me all this.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer drew a long breath. Lingard stretched out his legs. + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Almayer seemed to struggle with himself. At last he spluttered out: + </p> + <p> + “The hardest is to tell yet. The most unheard-of thing! An outrage! A + fiendish outrage!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + “Well! Let’s know all about it. I can’t imagine . . .” began Lingard, + after waiting for some time in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t imagine! I should think you couldn’t,” interrupted Almayer. “Why! . + . . You just listen. When Ali came back I felt a little easier in my mind. + There was then some semblance of order in Sambir. I had the Jack up since + the morning and began to feel safer. Some of my men turned up in the + afternoon. I did not ask any questions; set them to work as if nothing had + happened. Towards the evening—it might have been five or half-past—I + was on our jetty with the child when I heard shouts at the far-off end of + the settlement. At first I didn’t take much notice. By and by Ali came to + me and says, ‘Master, give me the child, there is much trouble in the + settlement.’ So I gave him Nina and went in, took my revolver, and passed + through the house into the back courtyard. As I came down the steps I saw + all the serving girls clear out from the cooking shed, and I heard a big + crowd howling on the other side of the dry ditch which is the limit of our + ground. Could not see them on account of the fringe of bushes along the + ditch, but I knew that crowd was angry and after somebody. As I stood + wondering, that Jim-Eng—you know the Chinaman who settled here a + couple of years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “He was my passenger; I brought him here,” exclaimed Lingard. “A + first-class Chinaman that.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you? I had forgotten. Well, that Jim-Eng, he burst through the bush + and fell into my arms, so to speak. He told me, panting, that they were + after him because he wouldn’t take off his hat to the flag. He was not so + much scared, but he was very angry and indignant. Of course he had to run + for it; there were some fifty men after him—Lakamba’s friends—but + he was full of fight. Said he was an Englishman, and would not take off + his hat to any flag but English. I tried to soothe him while the crowd was + shouting on the other side of the ditch. I told him he must take one of my + canoes and cross the river. Stop on the other side for a couple of days. + He wouldn’t. Not he. He was English, and he would fight the whole lot. + Says he: ‘They are only black fellows. We white men,’ meaning me and + himself, ‘can fight everybody in Sambir.’ He was mad with passion. The + crowd quieted a little, and I thought I could shelter Jim-Eng without much + risk, when all of a sudden I heard Willems’ voice. He shouted to me in + English: ‘Let four men enter your compound to get that Chinaman!’ I said + nothing. Told Jim-Eng to keep quiet too. Then after a while Willems shouts + again: ‘Don’t resist, Almayer. I give you good advice. I am keeping this + crowd back. Don’t resist them!’ That beggar’s voice enraged me; I could + not help it. I cried to him: ‘You are a liar!’ and just then Jim-Eng, who + had flung off his jacket and had tucked up his trousers ready for a fight; + just then that fellow he snatches the revolver out of my hand and lets fly + at them through the bush. There was a sharp cry—he must have hit + somebody—and a great yell, and before I could wink twice they were + over the ditch and through the bush and on top of us! Simply rolled over + us! There wasn’t the slightest chance to resist. I was trampled under + foot, Jim-Eng got a dozen gashes about his body, and we were carried + halfway up the yard in the first rush. My eyes and mouth were full of + dust; I was on my back with three or four fellows sitting on me. I could + hear Jim-Eng trying to shout not very far from me. Now and then they would + throttle him and he would gurgle. I could hardly breathe myself with two + heavy fellows on my chest. Willems came up running and ordered them to + raise me up, but to keep good hold. They led me into the verandah. I + looked round, but did not see either Ali or the child. Felt easier. + Struggled a little. . . . Oh, my God!” + </p> + <p> + Almayer’s face was distorted with a passing spasm of rage. Lingard moved + in his chair slightly. Almayer went on after a short pause: + </p> + <p> + “They held me, shouting threats in my face. Willems took down my hammock + and threw it to them. He pulled out the drawer of this table, and found + there a palm and needle and some sail-twine. We were making awnings for + your brig, as you had asked me last voyage before you left. He knew, of + course, where to look for what he wanted. By his orders they laid me out + on the floor, wrapped me in my hammock, and he started to stitch me in, as + if I had been a corpse, beginning at the feet. While he worked he laughed + wickedly. I called him all the names I could think of. He told them to put + their dirty paws over my mouth and nose. I was nearly choked. Whenever I + moved they punched me in the ribs. He went on taking fresh needlefuls as + he wanted them, and working steadily. Sewed me up to my throat. Then he + rose, saying, ‘That will do; let go.’ That woman had been standing by; + they must have been reconciled. She clapped her hands. I lay on the floor + like a bale of goods while he stared at me, and the woman shrieked with + delight. Like a bale of goods! There was a grin on every face, and the + verandah was full of them. I wished myself dead—‘pon my word, + Captain Lingard, I did! I do now whenever I think of it!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard’s face expressed sympathetic indignation. Almayer dropped his head + upon his arms on the table, and spoke in that position in an indistinct + and muffled voice, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Finally, by his directions, they flung me into the big rocking-chair. I + was sewed in so tight that I was stiff like a piece of wood. He was giving + orders in a very loud voice, and that man Babalatchi saw that they were + executed. They obeyed him implicitly. Meantime I lay there in the chair + like a log, and that woman capered before me and made faces; snapped her + fingers before my nose. Women are bad!—ain’t they? I never saw her + before, as far as I know. Never done anything to her. Yet she was + perfectly fiendish. Can you understand it? Now and then she would leave me + alone to hang round his neck for awhile, and then she would return before + my chair and begin her exercises again. He looked on, indulgent. The + perspiration ran down my face, got into my eyes—my arms were sewn + in. I was blinded half the time; at times I could see better. She drags + him before my chair. ‘I am like white women,’ she says, her arms round his + neck. You should have seen the faces of the fellows in the verandah! They + were scandalized and ashamed of themselves to see her behaviour. Suddenly + she asks him, alluding to me: ‘When are you going to kill him?’ Imagine + how I felt. I must have swooned; I don’t remember exactly. I fancy there + was a row; he was angry. When I got my wits again he was sitting close to + me, and she was gone. I understood he sent her to my wife, who was hiding + in the back room and never came out during this affair. Willems says to me—I + fancy I can hear his voice, hoarse and dull—he says to me: ‘Not a + hair of your head shall be touched.’ I made no sound. Then he goes on: + ‘Please remark that the flag you have hoisted—which, by the by, is + not yours—has been respected. Tell Captain Lingard so when you do + see him. But,’ he says, ‘you first fired at the crowd.’ ‘You are a liar, + you blackguard!’ I shouted. He winced, I am sure. It hurt him to see I was + not frightened. ‘Anyways,’ he says, ‘a shot had been fired out of your + compound and a man was hit. Still, all your property shall be respected on + account of the Union Jack. Moreover, I have no quarrel with Captain + Lingard, who is the senior partner in this business. As to you,’ he + continued, ‘you will not forget this day—not if you live to be a + hundred years old—or I don’t know your nature. You will keep the + bitter taste of this humiliation to the last day of your life, and so your + kindness to me shall be repaid. I shall remove all the powder you have. + This coast is under the protection of the Netherlands, and you have no + right to have any powder. There are the Governor’s Orders in Council to + that effect, and you know it. Tell me where the key of the small + storehouse is?’ I said not a word, and he waited a little, then rose, + saying: ‘It’s your own fault if there is any damage done.’ He ordered + Babalatchi to have the lock of the office-room forced, and went in—rummaged + amongst my drawers—could not find the key. Then that woman Aissa + asked my wife, and she gave them the key. After awhile they tumbled every + barrel into the river. Eighty-three hundredweight! He superintended + himself, and saw every barrel roll into the water. There were mutterings. + Babalatchi was angry and tried to expostulate, but he gave him a good + shaking. I must say he was perfectly fearless with those fellows. Then he + came back to the verandah, sat down by me again, and says: ‘We found your + man Ali with your little daughter hiding in the bushes up the river. We + brought them in. They are perfectly safe, of course. Let me congratulate + you, Almayer, upon the cleverness of your child. She recognized me at + once, and cried “pig” as naturally as you would yourself. Circumstances + alter feelings. You should have seen how frightened your man Ali was. + Clapped his hands over her mouth. I think you spoil her, Almayer. But I am + not angry. Really, you look so ridiculous in this chair that I can’t feel + angry.’ I made a frantic effort to burst out of my hammock to get at that + scoundrel’s throat, but I only fell off and upset the chair over myself. + He laughed and said only: ‘I leave you half of your revolver cartridges + and take half myself; they will fit mine. We are both white men, and + should back each other up. I may want them.’ I shouted at him from under + the chair: ‘You are a thief,’ but he never looked, and went away, one hand + round that woman’s waist, the other on Babalatchi’s shoulder, to whom he + was talking—laying down the law about something or other. In less + than five minutes there was nobody inside our fences. After awhile Ali + came to look for me and cut me free. I haven’t seen Willems since—nor + anybody else for that matter. I have been left alone. I offered sixty + dollars to the man who had been wounded, which were accepted. They + released Jim-Eng the next day, when the flag had been hauled down. He sent + six cases of opium to me for safe keeping but has not left his house. I + think he is safe enough now. Everything is very quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Towards the end of his narrative Almayer lifted his head off the table, + and now sat back in his chair and stared at the bamboo rafters of the roof + above him. Lingard lolled in his seat with his legs stretched out. In the + peaceful gloom of the verandah, with its lowered screens, they heard faint + noises from the world outside in the blazing sunshine: a hail on the + river, the answer from the shore, the creak of a pulley; sounds short, + interrupted, as if lost suddenly in the brilliance of noonday. Lingard got + up slowly, walked to the front rail, and holding one of the screens aside, + looked out in silence. Over the water and the empty courtyard came a + distinct voice from a small schooner anchored abreast of the Lingard + jetty. + </p> + <p> + “Serang! Take a pull at the main peak halyards. This gaff is down on the + boom.” + </p> + <p> + There was a shrill pipe dying in long-drawn cadence, the song of the men + swinging on the rope. The voice said sharply: “That will do!” Another + voice—the serang’s probably—shouted: “Ikat!” and as Lingard + dropped the blind and turned away all was silent again, as if there had + been nothing on the other side of the swaying screen; nothing but the + light, brilliant, crude, heavy, lying on a dead land like a pall of fire. + Lingard sat down again, facing Almayer, his elbow on the table, in a + thoughtful attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Nice little schooner,” muttered Almayer, wearily. “Did you buy her?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Lingard. “After I lost the Flash we got to Palembang in our + boats. I chartered her there, for six months. From young Ford, you know. + Belongs to him. He wanted a spell ashore, so I took charge myself. Of + course all Ford’s people on board. Strangers to me. I had to go to + Singapore about the insurance; then I went to Macassar, of course. Had + long passages. No wind. It was like a curse on me. I had lots of trouble + with old Hudig. That delayed me much.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Hudig! Why with Hudig?” asked Almayer, in a perfunctory manner. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! about a . . . a woman,” mumbled Lingard. + </p> + <p> + Almayer looked at him with languid surprise. The old seaman had twisted + his white beard into a point, and now was busy giving his moustaches a + fierce curl. His little red eyes—those eyes that had smarted under + the salt sprays of every sea, that had looked unwinking to windward in the + gales of all latitudes—now glared at Almayer from behind the lowered + eyebrows like a pair of frightened wild beasts crouching in a bush. + </p> + <p> + “Extraordinary! So like you! What can you have to do with Hudig’s women? + The old sinner!” said Almayer, negligently. + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about! Wife of a friend of . . . I mean of a man I + know . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Still, I don’t see . . .” interjected Almayer carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Of a man you know too. Well. Very well.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew so many men before you made me bury myself in this hole!” growled + Almayer, unamiably. “If she had anything to do with Hudig—that wife—then + she can’t be up to much. I would be sorry for the man,” added Almayer, + brightening up with the recollection of the scandalous tittle-tattle of + the past, when he was a young man in the second capital of the Islands—and + so well informed, so well informed. He laughed. Lingard’s frown deepened. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk foolish! It’s Willems’ wife.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer grasped the sides of his seat, his eyes and mouth opened wide. + </p> + <p> + “What? Why!” he exclaimed, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Willems’—wife,” repeated Lingard distinctly. “You ain’t deaf, are + you? The wife of Willems. Just so. As to why! There was a promise. And I + did not know what had happened here.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it. You’ve been giving her money, I bet,” cried Almayer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no!” said Lingard, deliberately. “Although I suppose I shall have + to . . .” + </p> + <p> + Almayer groaned. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” went on Lingard, speaking slowly and steadily, “the fact is + that I have . . . I have brought her here. Here. To Sambir.” + </p> + <p> + “In heaven’s name! why?” shouted Almayer, jumping up. The chair tilted and + fell slowly over. He raised his clasped hands above his head and brought + them down jerkily, separating his fingers with an effort, as if tearing + them apart. Lingard nodded, quickly, several times. + </p> + <p> + “I have. Awkward. Hey?” he said, with a puzzled look upwards. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” said Almayer, tearfully. “I can’t understand you at all. + What will you do next! Willems’ wife!” + </p> + <p> + “Wife and child. Small boy, you know. They are on board the schooner.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer looked at Lingard with sudden suspicion, then turning away busied + himself in picking up the chair, sat down in it turning his back upon the + old seaman, and tried to whistle, but gave it up directly. Lingard went on— + </p> + <p> + “Fact is, the fellow got into trouble with Hudig. Worked upon my feelings. + I promised to arrange matters. I did. With much trouble. Hudig was angry + with her for wishing to join her husband. Unprincipled old fellow. You + know she is his daughter. Well, I said I would see her through it all + right; help Willems to a fresh start and so on. I spoke to Craig in + Palembang. He is getting on in years, and wanted a manager or partner. I + promised to guarantee Willems’ good behaviour. We settled all that. Craig + is an old crony of mine. Been shipmates in the forties. He’s waiting for + him now. A pretty mess! What do you think?” + </p> + <p> + Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That woman broke with Hudig on my assurance that all would be well,” went + on Lingard, with growing dismay. “She did. Proper thing, of course. Wife, + husband . . . together . . . as it should be . . . Smart fellow . . . + Impossible scoundrel . . . Jolly old go! Oh! damn!” + </p> + <p> + Almayer laughed spitefully. + </p> + <p> + “How delighted he will be,” he said, softly. “You will make two people + happy. Two at least!” He laughed again, while Lingard looked at his + shaking shoulders in consternation. + </p> + <p> + “I am jammed on a lee shore this time, if ever I was,” muttered Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Send her back quick,” suggested Almayer, stifling another laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What are you sniggering at?” growled Lingard, angrily. “I’ll work it out + all clear yet. Meantime you must receive her into this house.” + </p> + <p> + “My house!” cried Almayer, turning round. + </p> + <p> + “It’s mine too—a little isn’t it?” said Lingard. “Don’t argue,” he + shouted, as Almayer opened his mouth. “Obey orders and hold your tongue!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! If you take it in that tone!” mumbled Almayer, sulkily, with a + gesture of assent. + </p> + <p> + “You are so aggravating too, my boy,” said the old seaman, with unexpected + placidity. “You must give me time to turn round. I can’t keep her on board + all the time. I must tell her something. Say, for instance, that he is + gone up the river. Expected back every day. That’s it. D’ye hear? You must + put her on that tack and dodge her along easy, while I take the kinks out + of the situation. By God!” he exclaimed, mournfully, after a short pause, + “life is foul! Foul like a lee forebrace on a dirty night. And yet. And + yet. One must see it clear for running before going below—for good. + Now you attend to what I said,” he added, sharply, “if you don’t want to + quarrel with me, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to quarrel with you,” murmured Almayer with unwilling + deference. “Only I wish I could understand you. I know you are my best + friend, Captain Lingard; only, upon my word, I can’t make you out + sometimes! I wish I could . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lingard burst into a loud laugh which ended shortly in a deep sigh. He + closed his eyes, tilting his head over the back of his armchair; and on + his face, baked by the unclouded suns of many hard years, there appeared + for a moment a weariness and a look of age which startled Almayer, like an + unexpected disclosure of evil. + </p> + <p> + “I am done up,” said Lingard, gently. “Perfectly done up. All night on + deck getting that schooner up the river. Then talking with you. Seems to + me I could go to sleep on a clothes-line. I should like to eat something + though. Just see about that, Kaspar.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer clapped his hands, and receiving no response was going to call, + when in the central passage of the house, behind the red curtain of the + doorway opening upon the verandah, they heard a child’s imperious voice + speaking shrilly. + </p> + <p> + “Take me up at once. I want to be carried into the verandah. I shall be + very angry. Take me up.” + </p> + <p> + A man’s voice answered, subdued, in humble remonstrance. The faces of + Almayer and Lingard brightened at once. The old seaman called out— + </p> + <p> + “Bring the child. Lekas!” + </p> + <p> + “You will see how she has grown,” exclaimed Almayer, in a jubilant tone. + </p> + <p> + Through the curtained doorway Ali appeared with little Nina Almayer in his + arms. The child had one arm round his neck, and with the other she hugged + a ripe pumelo nearly as big as her own head. Her little pink, sleeveless + robe had half slipped off her shoulders, but the long black hair, that + framed her olive face, in which the big black eyes looked out in childish + solemnity, fell in luxuriant profusion over her shoulders, all round her + and over Ali’s arms, like a close-meshed and delicate net of silken + threads. Lingard got up to meet Ali, and as soon as she caught sight of + the old seaman she dropped the fruit and put out both her hands with a cry + of delight. He took her from the Malay, and she laid hold of his + moustaches with an affectionate goodwill that brought unaccustomed tears + into his little red eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Not so hard, little one, not so hard,” he murmured, pressing with an + enormous hand, that covered it entirely, the child’s head to his face. + </p> + <p> + “Pick up my pumelo, O Rajah of the sea!” she said, speaking in a + high-pitched, clear voice with great volubility. “There, under the table. + I want it quick! Quick! You have been away fighting with many men. Ali + says so. You are a mighty fighter. Ali says so. On the great sea far away, + away, away.” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand, staring with dreamy vacancy, while Lingard looked at + her, and squatting down groped under the table after the pumelo. + </p> + <p> + “Where does she get those notions?” said Lingard, getting up cautiously, + to Almayer, who had been giving orders to Ali. + </p> + <p> + “She is always with the men. Many a time I’ve found her with her fingers + in their rice dish, of an evening. She does not care for her mother though—I + am glad to say. How pretty she is—and so sharp. My very image!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard had put the child on the table, and both men stood looking at her + with radiant faces. + </p> + <p> + “A perfect little woman,” whispered Lingard. “Yes, my dear boy, we shall + make her somebody. You’ll see!” + </p> + <p> + “Very little chance of that now,” remarked Almayer, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know!” exclaimed Lingard, taking up the child again, and + beginning to walk up and down the verandah. “I have my plans. I have—listen.” + </p> + <p> + And he began to explain to the interested Almayer his plans for the + future. He would interview Abdulla and Lakamba. There must be some + understanding with those fellows now they had the upper hand. Here he + interrupted himself to swear freely, while the child, who had been + diligently fumbling about his neck, had found his whistle and blew a loud + blast now and then close to his ear—which made him wince and laugh + as he put her hands down, scolding her lovingly. Yes—that would be + easily settled. He was a man to be reckoned with yet. Nobody knew that + better than Almayer. Very well. Then he must patiently try and keep some + little trade together. It would be all right. But the great thing—and + here Lingard spoke lower, bringing himself to a sudden standstill before + the entranced Almayer—the great thing would be the gold hunt up the + river. He—Lingard—would devote himself to it. He had been in + the interior before. There were immense deposits of alluvial gold there. + Fabulous. He felt sure. Had seen places. Dangerous work? Of course! But + what a reward! He would explore—and find. Not a shadow of doubt. + Hang the danger! They would first get as much as they could for + themselves. Keep the thing quiet. Then after a time form a Company. In + Batavia or in England. Yes, in England. Much better. Splendid! Why, of + course. And that baby would be the richest woman in the world. He—Lingard—would + not, perhaps, see it—although he felt good for many years yet—but + Almayer would. Here was something to live for yet! Hey? + </p> + <p> + But the richest woman in the world had been for the last five minutes + shouting shrilly—“Rajah Laut! Rajah Laut! Hai! Give ear!” while the + old seaman had been speaking louder, unconsciously, to make his deep bass + heard above the impatient clamour. He stopped now and said tenderly— + </p> + <p> + “What is it, little woman?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a little woman. I am a white child. Anak Putih. A white child; + and the white men are my brothers. Father says so. And Ali says so too. + Ali knows as much as father. Everything.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer almost danced with paternal delight. + </p> + <p> + “I taught her. I taught her,” he repeated, laughing with tears in his + eyes. “Isn’t she sharp?” + </p> + <p> + “I am the slave of the white child,” said Lingard, with playful solemnity. + “What is the order?” + </p> + <p> + “I want a house,” she warbled, with great eagerness. “I want a house, and + another house on the roof, and another on the roof—high. High! Like + the places where they dwell—my brothers—in the land where the + sun sleeps.” + </p> + <p> + “To the westward,” explained Almayer, under his breath. “She remembers + everything. She wants you to build a house of cards. You did, last time + you were here.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard sat down with the child on his knees, and Almayer pulled out + violently one drawer after another, looking for the cards, as if the fate + of the world depended upon his haste. He produced a dirty double pack + which was only used during Lingard’s visit to Sambir, when he would + sometimes play—of an evening—with Almayer, a game which he + called Chinese bezique. It bored Almayer, but the old seaman delighted in + it, considering it a remarkable product of Chinese genius—a race for + which he had an unaccountable liking and admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Now we will get on, my little pearl,” he said, putting together with + extreme precaution two cards that looked absurdly flimsy between his big + fingers. Little Nina watched him with intense seriousness as he went on + erecting the ground floor, while he continued to speak to Almayer with his + head over his shoulder so as not to endanger the structure with his + breath. + </p> + <p> + “I know what I am talking about. . . . Been in California in forty-nine. . + . . Not that I made much . . . then in Victoria in the early days . . . . + I know all about it. Trust me. Moreover a blind man could . . . Be quiet, + little sister, or you will knock this affair down. . . . My hand pretty + steady yet! Hey, Kaspar? . . . Now, delight of my heart, we shall put a + third house on the top of these two . . . keep very quiet. . . . As I was + saying, you got only to stoop and gather handfuls of gold . . . dust . . . + there. Now here we are. Three houses on top of one another. Grand!” + </p> + <p> + He leaned back in his chair, one hand on the child’s head, which he + smoothed mechanically, and gesticulated with the other, speaking to + Almayer. + </p> + <p> + “Once on the spot, there would be only the trouble to pick up the stuff. + Then we shall all go to Europe. The child must be educated. We shall be + rich. Rich is no name for it. Down in Devonshire where I belong, there was + a fellow who built a house near Teignmouth which had as many windows as a + three-decker has ports. Made all his money somewhere out here in the good + old days. People around said he had been a pirate. We boys—I was a + boy in a Brixham trawler then—certainly believed that. He went about + in a bath-chair in his grounds. Had a glass eye . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Higher, Higher!” called out Nina, pulling the old seaman’s beard. + </p> + <p> + “You do worry me—don’t you?” said Lingard, gently, giving her a + tender kiss. “What? One more house on top of all these? Well! I will try.” + </p> + <p> + The child watched him breathlessly. When the difficult feat was + accomplished she clapped her hands, looked on steadily, and after a while + gave a great sigh of content. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Look out!” shouted Almayer. + </p> + <p> + The structure collapsed suddenly before the child’s light breath. Lingard + looked discomposed for a moment. Almayer laughed, but the little girl + began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “Take her,” said the old seaman, abruptly. Then, after Almayer went away + with the crying child, he remained sitting by the table, looking gloomily + at the heap of cards. + </p> + <p> + “Damn this Willems,” he muttered to himself. “But I will do it yet!” + </p> + <p> + He got up, and with an angry push of his hand swept the cards off the + table. Then he fell back in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Tired as a dog,” he sighed out, closing his eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + Consciously or unconsciously, men are proud of their firmness, + steadfastness of purpose, directness of aim. They go straight towards + their desire, to the accomplishment of virtue—sometimes of crime—in + an uplifting persuasion of their firmness. They walk the road of life, the + road fenced in by their tastes, prejudices, disdains or enthusiasms, + generally honest, invariably stupid, and are proud of never losing their + way. If they do stop, it is to look for a moment over the hedges that make + them safe, to look at the misty valleys, at the distant peaks, at cliffs + and morasses, at the dark forests and the hazy plains where other human + beings grope their days painfully away, stumbling over the bones of the + wise, over the unburied remains of their predecessors who died alone, in + gloom or in sunshine, halfway from anywhere. The man of purpose does not + understand, and goes on, full of contempt. He never loses his way. He + knows where he is going and what he wants. Travelling on, he achieves + great length without any breadth, and battered, besmirched, and weary, he + touches the goal at last; he grasps the reward of his perseverance, of his + virtue, of his healthy optimism: an untruthful tombstone over a dark and + soon forgotten grave. + </p> + <p> + Lingard had never hesitated in his life. Why should he? He had been a most + successful trader, and a man lucky in his fights, skilful in navigation, + undeniably first in seamanship in those seas. He knew it. Had he not heard + the voice of common consent? + </p> + <p> + The voice of the world that respected him so much; the whole world to him—for + to us the limits of the universe are strictly defined by those we know. + There is nothing for us outside the babble of praise and blame on familiar + lips, and beyond our last acquaintance there lies only a vast chaos; a + chaos of laughter and tears which concerns us not; laughter and tears + unpleasant, wicked, morbid, contemptible—because heard imperfectly + by ears rebellious to strange sounds. To Lingard—simple himself—all + things were simple. He seldom read. Books were not much in his way, and he + had to work hard navigating, trading, and also, in obedience to his + benevolent instincts, shaping stray lives he found here and there under + his busy hand. He remembered the Sunday-school teachings of his native + village and the discourses of the black-coated gentleman connected with + the Mission to Fishermen and Seamen, whose yawl-rigged boat darting + through rain-squalls amongst the coasters wind-bound in Falmouth Bay, was + part of those precious pictures of his youthful days that lingered in his + memory. “As clever a sky-pilot as you could wish to see,” he would say + with conviction, “and the best man to handle a boat in any weather I ever + did meet!” Such were the agencies that had roughly shaped his young soul + before he went away to see the world in a southern-going ship—before + he went, ignorant and happy, heavy of hand, pure in heart, profane in + speech, to give himself up to the great sea that took his life and gave + him his fortune. When thinking of his rise in the world—commander of + ships, then shipowner, then a man of much capital, respected wherever he + went, Lingard in a word, the Rajah Laut—he was amazed and awed by + his fate, that seemed to his ill-informed mind the most wondrous known in + the annals of men. His experience appeared to him immense and conclusive, + teaching him the lesson of the simplicity of life. In life—as in + seamanship—there were only two ways of doing a thing: the right way + and the wrong way. Common sense and experience taught a man the way that + was right. The other was for lubbers and fools, and led, in seamanship, to + loss of spars and sails or shipwreck; in life, to loss of money and + consideration, or to an unlucky knock on the head. He did not consider it + his duty to be angry with rascals. He was only angry with things he could + not understand, but for the weaknesses of humanity he could find a + contemptuous tolerance. It being manifest that he was wise and lucky—otherwise + how could he have been as successful in life as he had been?—he had + an inclination to set right the lives of other people, just as he could + hardly refrain—in defiance of nautical etiquette—from + interfering with his chief officer when the crew was sending up a new + topmast, or generally when busy about, what he called, “a heavy job.” He + was meddlesome with perfect modesty; if he knew a thing or two there was + no merit in it. “Hard knocks taught me wisdom, my boy,” he used to say, + “and you had better take the advice of a man who has been a fool in his + time. Have another.” And “my boy” as a rule took the cool drink, the + advice, and the consequent help which Lingard felt himself bound in honour + to give, so as to back up his opinion like an honest man. Captain Tom went + sailing from island to island, appearing unexpectedly in various + localities, beaming, noisy, anecdotal, commendatory or comminatory, but + always welcome. + </p> + <p> + It was only since his return to Sambir that the old seaman had for the + first time known doubt and unhappiness, The loss of the Flash—planted + firmly and for ever on a ledge of rock at the north end of Gaspar Straits + in the uncertain light of a cloudy morning—shook him considerably; + and the amazing news which he heard on his arrival in Sambir were not made + to soothe his feelings. A good many years ago—prompted by his love + of adventure—he, with infinite trouble, had found out and surveyed—for + his own benefit only—the entrances to that river, where, he had + heard through native report, a new settlement of Malays was forming. No + doubt he thought at the time mostly of personal gain; but, received with + hearty friendliness by Patalolo, he soon came to like the ruler and the + people, offered his counsel and his help, and—knowing nothing of + Arcadia—he dreamed of Arcadian happiness for that little corner of + the world which he loved to think all his own. His deep-seated and + immovable conviction that only he—he, Lingard—knew what was + good for them was characteristic of him and, after all, not so very far + wrong. He would make them happy whether or no, he said, and he meant it. + His trade brought prosperity to the young state, and the fear of his heavy + hand secured its internal peace for many years. + </p> + <p> + He looked proudly upon his work. With every passing year he loved more the + land, the people, the muddy river that, if he could help it, would carry + no other craft but the Flash on its unclean and friendly surface. As he + slowly warped his vessel up-stream he would scan with knowing looks the + riverside clearings, and pronounce solemn judgment upon the prospects of + the season’s rice-crop. He knew every settler on the banks between the sea + and Sambir; he knew their wives, their children; he knew every individual + of the multi-coloured groups that, standing on the flimsy platforms of + tiny reed dwellings built over the water, waved their hands and shouted + shrilly: “O! Kapal layer! Hai!” while the Flash swept slowly through the + populated reach, to enter the lonely stretches of sparkling brown water + bordered by the dense and silent forest, whose big trees nodded their + outspread boughs gently in the faint, warm breeze—as if in sign of + tender but melancholy welcome. He loved it all: the landscape of brown + golds and brilliant emeralds under the dome of hot sapphire; the + whispering big trees; the loquacious nipa-palms that rattled their leaves + volubly in the night breeze, as if in haste to tell him all the secrets of + the great forest behind them. He loved the heavy scents of blossoms and + black earth, that breath of life and of death which lingered over his brig + in the damp air of tepid and peaceful nights. He loved the narrow and + sombre creeks, strangers to sunshine: black, smooth, tortuous—like + byways of despair. He liked even the troops of sorrowful-faced monkeys + that profaned the quiet spots with capricious gambols and insane gestures + of inhuman madness. He loved everything there, animated or inanimated; the + very mud of the riverside; the very alligators, enormous and stolid, + basking on it with impertinent unconcern. Their size was a source of pride + to him. “Immense fellows! Make two of them Palembang reptiles! I tell you, + old man!” he would shout, poking some crony of his playfully in the ribs: + “I tell you, big as you are, they could swallow you in one gulp, hat, + boots and all! Magnificent beggars! Wouldn’t you like to see them? + Wouldn’t you! Ha! ha! ha!” His thunderous laughter filled the verandah, + rolled over the hotel garden, overflowed into the street, paralyzing for a + short moment the noiseless traffic of bare brown feet; and its loud + reverberations would even startle the landlord’s tame bird—a + shameless mynah—into a momentary propriety of behaviour under the + nearest chair. In the big billiard-room perspiring men in thin cotton + singlets would stop the game, listen, cue in hand, for a while through the + open windows, then nod their moist faces at each other sagaciously and + whisper: “The old fellow is talking about his river.” + </p> + <p> + His river! The whispers of curious men, the mystery of the thing, were to + Lingard a source of never-ending delight. The common talk of ignorance + exaggerated the profits of his queer monopoly, and, although strictly + truthful in general, he liked, on that matter, to mislead speculation + still further by boasts full of cold raillery. His river! By it he was not + only rich—he was interesting. This secret of his which made him + different to the other traders of those seas gave intimate satisfaction to + that desire for singularity which he shared with the rest of mankind, + without being aware of its presence within his breast. It was the greater + part of his happiness, but he only knew it after its loss, so unforeseen, + so sudden and so cruel. + </p> + <p> + After his conversation with Almayer he went on board the schooner, sent + Joanna on shore, and shut himself up in his cabin, feeling very unwell. He + made the most of his indisposition to Almayer, who came to visit him twice + a day. It was an excuse for doing nothing just yet. He wanted to think. He + was very angry. Angry with himself, with Willems. Angry at what Willems + had done—and also angry at what he had left undone. The scoundrel + was not complete. The conception was perfect, but the execution, + unaccountably, fell short. Why? He ought to have cut Almayer’s throat and + burnt the place to ashes—then cleared out. Got out of his way; of + him, Lingard! Yet he didn’t. Was it impudence, contempt—or what? He + felt hurt at the implied disrespect of his power, and the incomplete + rascality of the proceeding disturbed him exceedingly. There was something + short, something wanting, something that would have given him a free hand + in the work of retribution. The obvious, the right thing to do, was to + shoot Willems. Yet how could he? Had the fellow resisted, showed fight, or + ran away; had he shown any consciousness of harm done, it would have been + more possible, more natural. But no! The fellow actually had sent him a + message. Wanted to see him. What for? The thing could not be explained. An + unexampled, cold-blooded treachery, awful, incomprehensible. Why did he do + it? Why? Why? The old seaman in the stuffy solitude of his little cabin on + board the schooner groaned out many times that question, striking with an + open palm his perplexed forehead. + </p> + <p> + During his four days of seclusion he had received two messages from the + outer world; from that world of Sambir which had, so suddenly and so + finally, slipped from his grasp. One, a few words from Willems written on + a torn-out page of a small notebook; the other, a communication from + Abdulla caligraphed carefully on a large sheet of flimsy paper and + delivered to him in a green silk wrapper. The first he could not + understand. It said: “Come and see me. I am not afraid. Are you? W.” He + tore it up angrily, but before the small bits of dirty paper had the time + to flutter down and settle on the floor, the anger was gone and was + replaced by a sentiment that induced him to go on his knees, pick up the + fragments of the torn message, piece it together on the top of his + chronometer box, and contemplate it long and thoughtfully, as if he had + hoped to read the answer of the horrible riddle in the very form of the + letters that went to make up that fresh insult. Abdulla’s letter he read + carefully and rammed it into his pocket, also with anger, but with anger + that ended in a half-resigned, half-amused smile. He would never give in + as long as there was a chance. “It’s generally the safest way to stick to + the ship as long as she will swim,” was one of his favourite sayings: “The + safest and the right way. To abandon a craft because it leaks is easy—but + poor work. Poor work!” Yet he was intelligent enough to know when he was + beaten, and to accept the situation like a man, without repining. When + Almayer came on board that afternoon he handed him the letter without + comment. + </p> + <p> + Almayer read it, returned it in silence, and leaning over the taffrail + (the two men were on deck) looked down for some time at the play of the + eddies round the schooner’s rudder. At last he said without looking up— + </p> + <p> + “That’s a decent enough letter. Abdulla gives him up to you. I told you + they were getting sick of him. What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, opened his mouth with great + determination, but said nothing for a while. At last he murmured— + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be hanged if I know—just yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would do something soon . . .” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the hurry?” interrupted Lingard. “He can’t get away. As it stands + he is at my mercy, as far as I can see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Almayer, reflectively—“and very little mercy he deserves + too. Abdulla’s meaning—as I can make it out amongst all those + compliments—is: ‘Get rid for me of that white man—and we shall + live in peace and share the trade.”’ + </p> + <p> + “You believe that?” asked Lingard, contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “Not altogether,” answered Almayer. “No doubt we will share the trade for + a time—till he can grab the lot. Well, what are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + He looked up as he spoke and was surprised to see Lingard’s discomposed + face. + </p> + <p> + “You ain’t well. Pain anywhere?” he asked, with real solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “I have been queer—you know—these last few days, but no pain.” + He struck his broad chest several times, cleared his throat with a + powerful “Hem!” and repeated: “No. No pain. Good for a few years yet. But + I am bothered with all this, I can tell you!” + </p> + <p> + “You must take care of yourself,” said Almayer. Then after a pause he + added: “You will see Abdulla. Won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. Not yet. There’s plenty of time,” said Lingard, + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would do something,” urged Almayer, moodily. “You know, that + woman is a perfect nuisance to me. She and her brat! Yelps all day. And + the children don’t get on together. Yesterday the little devil wanted to + fight with my Nina. Scratched her face, too. A perfect savage! Like his + honourable papa. Yes, really. She worries about her husband, and whimpers + from morning to night. When she isn’t weeping she is furious with me. + Yesterday she tormented me to tell her when he would be back and cried + because he was engaged in such dangerous work. I said something about it + being all right—no necessity to make a fool of herself, when she + turned upon me like a wild cat. Called me a brute, selfish, heartless; + raved about her beloved Peter risking his life for my benefit, while I did + not care. Said I took advantage of his generous good-nature to get him to + do dangerous work—my work. That he was worth twenty of the likes of + me. That she would tell you—open your eyes as to the kind of man I + was, and so on. That’s what I’ve got to put up with for your sake. You + really might consider me a little. I haven’t robbed anybody,” went on + Almayer, with an attempt at bitter irony—“or sold my best friend, + but still you ought to have some pity on me. It’s like living in a hot + fever. She is out of her wits. You make my house a refuge for scoundrels + and lunatics. It isn’t fair. ‘Pon my word it isn’t! When she is in her + tantrums she is ridiculously ugly and screeches so—it sets my teeth + on edge. Thank God! my wife got a fit of the sulks and cleared out of the + house. Lives in a riverside hut since that affair—you know. But this + Willems’ wife by herself is almost more than I can bear. And I ask myself + why should I? You are exacting and no mistake. This morning I thought she + was going to claw me. Only think! She wanted to go prancing about the + settlement. She might have heard something there, so I told her she + mustn’t. It wasn’t safe outside our fences, I said. Thereupon she rushes + at me with her ten nails up to my eyes. ‘You miserable man,’ she yells, + ‘even this place is not safe, and you’ve sent him up this awful river + where he may lose his head. If he dies before forgiving me, Heaven will + punish you for your crime . . .’ My crime! I ask myself sometimes whether + I am dreaming! It will make me ill, all this. I’ve lost my appetite + already.” + </p> + <p> + He flung his hat on deck and laid hold of his hair despairingly. Lingard + looked at him with concern. + </p> + <p> + “What did she mean by it?” he muttered, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Mean! She is crazy, I tell you—and I will be, very soon, if this + lasts!” + </p> + <p> + “Just a little patience, Kaspar,” pleaded Lingard. “A day or so more.” + </p> + <p> + Relieved or tired by his violent outburst, Almayer calmed down, picked up + his hat and, leaning against the bulwark, commenced to fan himself with + it. + </p> + <p> + “Days do pass,” he said, resignedly—“but that kind of thing makes a + man old before his time. What is there to think about?—I can’t + imagine! Abdulla says plainly that if you undertake to pilot his ship out + and instruct the half-caste, he will drop Willems like a hot potato and be + your friend ever after. I believe him perfectly, as to Willems. It’s so + natural. As to being your friend it’s a lie of course, but we need not + bother about that just yet. You just say yes to Abdulla, and then whatever + happens to Willems will be nobody’s business.” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted himself and remained silent for a while, glaring about with + set teeth and dilated nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “You leave it to me. I’ll see to it that something happens to him,” he + said at last, with calm ferocity. Lingard smiled faintly. + </p> + <p> + “The fellow isn’t worth a shot. Not the trouble of it,” he whispered, as + if to himself. Almayer fired up suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what you think,” he cried. “You haven’t been sewn up in your + hammock to be made a laughing-stock of before a parcel of savages. Why! I + daren’t look anybody here in the face while that scoundrel is alive. I + will . . . I will settle him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you will,” growled Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I am afraid of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you! no!” said Lingard with alacrity. “Afraid! Not you. I know you. + I don’t doubt your courage. It’s your head, my boy, your head that I . . + .” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said the aggrieved Almayer. “Go on. Why don’t you call me a + fool at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I don’t want to,” burst out Lingard, with nervous irritability. + “If I wanted to call you a fool, I would do so without asking your leave.” + He began to walk athwart the narrow quarter-deck, kicking ropes’ ends out + of his way and growling to himself: “Delicate gentleman . . . what next? . + . . I’ve done man’s work before you could toddle. Understand . . . say + what I like.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! well!” said Almayer, with affected resignation. “There’s no talking + to you these last few days.” He put on his hat, strolled to the gangway + and stopped, one foot on the little inside ladder, as if hesitating, came + back and planted himself in Lingard’s way, compelling him to stand still + and listen. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you will do what you like. You never take advice—I know + that; but let me tell you that it wouldn’t be honest to let that fellow + get away from here. If you do nothing, that scoundrel will leave in + Abdulla’s ship for sure. Abdulla will make use of him to hurt you and + others elsewhere. Willems knows too much about your affairs. He will cause + you lots of trouble. You mark my words. Lots of trouble. To you—and + to others perhaps. Think of that, Captain Lingard. That’s all I’ve got to + say. Now I must go back on shore. There’s lots of work. We will begin + loading this schooner to-morrow morning, first thing. All the bundles are + ready. If you should want me for anything, hoist some kind of flag on the + mainmast. At night two shots will fetch me.” Then he added, in a friendly + tone, “Won’t you come and dine in the house to-night? It can’t be good for + you to stew on board like that, day after day.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard did not answer. The image evoked by Almayer; the picture of + Willems ranging over the islands and disturbing the harmony of the + universe by robbery, treachery, and violence, held him silent, entranced—painfully + spellbound. Almayer, after waiting for a little while, moved reluctantly + towards the gangway, lingered there, then sighed and got over the side, + going down step by step. His head disappeared slowly below the rail. + Lingard, who had been staring at him absently, started suddenly, ran to + the side, and looking over, called out— + </p> + <p> + “Hey! Kaspar! Hold on a bit!” + </p> + <p> + Almayer signed to his boatmen to cease paddling, and turned his head + towards the schooner. The boat drifted back slowly abreast of Lingard, + nearly alongside. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Lingard, looking down—“I want a good canoe with + four men to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want it now?” asked Almayer. + </p> + <p> + “No! Catch this rope. Oh, you clumsy devil! . . . No, Kaspar,” went on + Lingard, after the bow-man had got hold of the end of the brace he had + thrown down into the canoe—“No, Kaspar. The sun is too much for me. + And it would be better to keep my affairs quiet, too. Send the canoe—four + good paddlers, mind, and your canvas chair for me to sit in. Send it about + sunset. D’ye hear?” + </p> + <p> + “All right, father,” said Almayer, cheerfully—“I will send Ali for a + steersman, and the best men I’ve got. Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lad. Only don’t let them be late.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it’s no use asking you where you are going,” said Almayer, + tentatively. “Because if it is to see Abdulla, I . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to see Abdulla. Not to-day. Now be off with you.” + </p> + <p> + He watched the canoe dart away shorewards, waved his hand in response to + Almayer’s nod, and walked to the taffrail smoothing out Abdulla’s letter, + which he had pulled out of his pocket. He read it over carefully, crumpled + it up slowly, smiling the while and closing his fingers firmly over the + crackling paper as though he had hold there of Abdulla’s throat. Halfway + to his pocket he changed his mind, and flinging the ball overboard looked + at it thoughtfully as it spun round in the eddies for a moment, before the + current bore it away down-stream, towards the sea. + </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 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + The night was very dark. For the first time in many months the East Coast + slept unseen by the stars under a veil of motionless cloud that, driven + before the first breath of the rainy monsoon, had drifted slowly from the + eastward all the afternoon; pursuing the declining sun with its masses of + black and grey that seemed to chase the light with wicked intent, and with + an ominous and gloomy steadiness, as though conscious of the message of + violence and turmoil they carried. At the sun’s disappearance below the + western horizon, the immense cloud, in quickened motion, grappled with the + glow of retreating light, and rolling down to the clear and jagged outline + of the distant mountains, hung arrested above the steaming forests; + hanging low, silent and menacing over the unstirring tree-tops; + withholding the blessing of rain, nursing the wrath of its thunder; + undecided—as if brooding over its own power for good or for evil. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi, coming out of the red and smoky light of his little bamboo + house, glanced upwards, drew in a long breath of the warm and stagnant + air, and stood for a moment with his good eye closed tightly, as if + intimidated by the unwonted and deep silence of Lakamba’s courtyard. When + he opened his eye he had recovered his sight so far, that he could + distinguish the various degrees of formless blackness which marked the + places of trees, of abandoned houses, of riverside bushes, on the dark + background of the night. + </p> + <p> + The careworn sage walked cautiously down the deserted courtyard to the + waterside, and stood on the bank listening to the voice of the invisible + river that flowed at his feet; listening to the soft whispers, to the deep + murmurs, to the sudden gurgles and the short hisses of the swift current + racing along the bank through the hot darkness. + </p> + <p> + He stood with his face turned to the river, and it seemed to him that he + could breathe easier with the knowledge of the clear vast space before + him; then, after a while he leaned heavily forward on his staff, his chin + fell on his breast, and a deep sigh was his answer to the selfish + discourse of the river that hurried on unceasing and fast, regardless of + joy or sorrow, of suffering and of strife, of failures and triumphs that + lived on its banks. The brown water was there, ready to carry friends or + enemies, to nurse love or hate on its submissive and heartless bosom, to + help or to hinder, to save life or give death; the great and rapid river: + a deliverance, a prison, a refuge or a grave. + </p> + <p> + Perchance such thoughts as these caused Babalatchi to send another + mournful sigh into the trailing mists of the unconcerned Pantai. The + barbarous politician had forgotten the recent success of his plottings in + the melancholy contemplation of a sorrow that made the night blacker, the + clammy heat more oppressive, the still air more heavy, the dumb solitude + more significant of torment than of peace. He had spent the night before + by the side of the dying Omar, and now, after twenty-four hours, his + memory persisted in returning to that low and sombre reed hut from which + the fierce spirit of the incomparably accomplished pirate took its flight, + to learn too late, in a worse world, the error of its earthly ways. The + mind of the savage statesman, chastened by bereavement, felt for a moment + the weight of his loneliness with keen perception worthy even of a + sensibility exasperated by all the refinements of tender sentiment that a + glorious civilization brings in its train, among other blessings and + virtues, into this excellent world. For the space of about thirty seconds, + a half-naked, betel-chewing pessimist stood upon the bank of the tropical + river, on the edge of the still and immense forests; a man angry, + powerless, empty-handed, with a cry of bitter discontent ready on his + lips; a cry that, had it come out, would have rung through the virgin + solitudes of the woods, as true, as great, as profound, as any + philosophical shriek that ever came from the depths of an easy-chair to + disturb the impure wilderness of chimneys and roofs. + </p> + <p> + For half a minute and no more did Babalatchi face the gods in the sublime + privilege of his revolt, and then the one-eyed puller of wires became + himself again, full of care and wisdom and far-reaching plans, and a + victim to the tormenting superstitions of his race. The night, no matter + how quiet, is never perfectly silent to attentive ears, and now Babalatchi + fancied he could detect in it other noises than those caused by the + ripples and eddies of the river. He turned his head sharply to the right + and to the left in succession, and then spun round quickly in a startled + and watchful manner, as if he had expected to see the blind ghost of his + departed leader wandering in the obscurity of the empty courtyard behind + his back. Nothing there. Yet he had heard a noise; a strange noise! No + doubt a ghostly voice of a complaining and angry spirit. He listened. Not + a sound. Reassured, Babalatchi made a few paces towards his house, when a + very human noise, that of hoarse coughing, reached him from the river. He + stopped, listened attentively, but now without any sign of emotion, and + moving briskly back to the waterside stood expectant with parted lips, + trying to pierce with his eye the wavering curtain of mist that hung low + over the water. He could see nothing, yet some people in a canoe must have + been very near, for he heard words spoken in an ordinary tone. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think this is the place, Ali? I can see nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be near here, Tuan,” answered another voice. “Shall we try the + bank?” + </p> + <p> + “No! . . . Let drift a little. If you go poking into the bank in the dark + you might stove the canoe on some log. We must be careful. . . . Let + drift! Let drift! . . . This does seem to be a clearing of some sort. We + may see a light by and by from some house or other. In Lakamba’s campong + there are many houses? Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “A great number, Tuan . . . I do not see any light.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” grumbled the first voice again, this time nearly abreast of the + silent Babalatchi who looked uneasily towards his own house, the doorway + of which glowed with the dim light of a torch burning within. The house + stood end on to the river, and its doorway faced down-stream, so + Babalatchi reasoned rapidly that the strangers on the river could not see + the light from the position their boat was in at the moment. He could not + make up his mind to call out to them, and while he hesitated he heard the + voices again, but now some way below the landing-place where he stood. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. This cannot be it. Let them give way, Ali! Dayong there!” + </p> + <p> + That order was followed by the splash of paddles, then a sudden cry— + </p> + <p> + “I see a light. I see it! Now I know where to land, Tuan.” + </p> + <p> + There was more splashing as the canoe was paddled sharply round and came + back up-stream close to the bank. + </p> + <p> + “Call out,” said very near a deep voice, which Babalatchi felt sure must + belong to a white man. “Call out—and somebody may come with a torch. + I can’t see anything.” + </p> + <p> + The loud hail that succeeded these words was emitted nearly under the + silent listener’s nose. Babalatchi, to preserve appearances, ran with long + but noiseless strides halfway up the courtyard, and only then shouted in + answer and kept on shouting as he walked slowly back again towards the + river bank. He saw there an indistinct shape of a boat, not quite + alongside the landing-place. + </p> + <p> + “Who speaks on the river?” asked Babalatchi, throwing a tone of surprise + into his question. + </p> + <p> + “A white man,” answered Lingard from the canoe. “Is there not one torch in + rich Lakamba’s campong to light a guest on his landing?” + </p> + <p> + “There are no torches and no men. I am alone here,” said Babalatchi, with + some hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Alone!” exclaimed Lingard. “Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a servant of Lakamba. But land, Tuan Putih, and see my face. Here is + my hand. No! Here! . . . By your mercy. . . . Ada! . . . Now you are + safe.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are alone here?” said Lingard, moving with precaution a few steps + into the courtyard. “How dark it is,” he muttered to himself—“one + would think the world had been painted black.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Alone. What more did you say, Tuan? I did not understand your talk.” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing. I expected to find here . . . But where are they all?” + </p> + <p> + “What matters where they are?” said Babalatchi, gloomily. “Have you come + to see my people? The last departed on a long journey—and I am + alone. Tomorrow I go too.” + </p> + <p> + “I came to see a white man,” said Lingard, walking on slowly. “He is not + gone, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” answered Babalatchi, at his elbow. “A man with a red skin and hard + eyes,” he went on, musingly, “whose hand is strong, and whose heart is + foolish and weak. A white man indeed . . . But still a man.” + </p> + <p> + They were now at the foot of the short ladder which led to the + split-bamboo platform surrounding Babalatchi’s habitation. The faint light + from the doorway fell down upon the two men’s faces as they stood looking + at each other curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Is he there?” asked Lingard, in a low voice, with a wave of his hand + upwards. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi, staring hard at his long-expected visitor, did not answer at + once. “No, not there,” he said at last, placing his foot on the lowest + rung and looking back. “Not there, Tuan—yet not very far. Will you + sit down in my dwelling? There may be rice and fish and clear water—not + from the river, but from a spring . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I am not hungry,” interrupted Lingard, curtly, “and I did not come here + to sit in your dwelling. Lead me to the white man who expects me. I have + no time to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “The night is long, Tuan,” went on Babalatchi, softly, “and there are + other nights and other days. Long. Very long . . . How much time it takes + for a man to die! O Rajah Laut!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard started. + </p> + <p> + “You know me!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Ay—wa! I have seen your face and felt your hand before—many + years ago,” said Babalatchi, holding on halfway up the ladder, and bending + down from above to peer into Lingard’s upturned face. “You do not remember—but + I have not forgotten. There are many men like me: there is only one Rajah + Laut.” + </p> + <p> + He climbed with sudden agility the last few steps, and stood on the + platform waving his hand invitingly to Lingard, who followed after a short + moment of indecision. + </p> + <p> + The elastic bamboo floor of the hut bent under the heavy weight of the old + seaman, who, standing within the threshold, tried to look into the smoky + gloom of the low dwelling. Under the torch, thrust into the cleft of a + stick, fastened at a right angle to the middle stay of the ridge pole, lay + a red patch of light, showing a few shabby mats and a corner of a big + wooden chest the rest of which was lost in shadow. In the obscurity of the + more remote parts of the house a lance-head, a brass tray hung on the + wall, the long barrel of a gun leaning against the chest, caught the stray + rays of the smoky illumination in trembling gleams that wavered, + disappeared, reappeared, went out, came back—as if engaged in a + doubtful struggle with the darkness that, lying in wait in distant + corners, seemed to dart out viciously towards its feeble enemy. The vast + space under the high pitch of the roof was filled with a thick cloud of + smoke, whose under-side—level like a ceiling—reflected the + light of the swaying dull flame, while at the top it oozed out through the + imperfect thatch of dried palm leaves. An indescribable and complicated + smell, made up of the exhalation of damp earth below, of the taint of + dried fish and of the effluvia of rotting vegetable matter, pervaded the + place and caused Lingard to sniff strongly as he strode over, sat on the + chest, and, leaning his elbows on his knees, took his head between his + hands and stared at the doorway thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi moved about in the shadows, whispering to an indistinct form or + two that flitted about at the far end of the hut. Without stirring Lingard + glanced sideways, and caught sight of muffled-up human shapes that hovered + for a moment near the edge of light and retreated suddenly back into the + darkness. Babalatchi approached, and sat at Lingard’s feet on a rolled-up + bundle of mats. + </p> + <p> + “Will you eat rice and drink sagueir?” he said. “I have waked up my + household.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” said Lingard, without looking at him, “when I come to see + Lakamba, or any of Lakamba’s servants, I am never hungry and never + thirsty. Tau! Savee! Never! Do you think I am devoid of reason? That there + is nothing there?” + </p> + <p> + He sat up, and, fixing abruptly his eyes on Babalatchi, tapped his own + forehead significantly. + </p> + <p> + “Tse! Tse! Tse! How can you talk like that, Tuan!” exclaimed Babalatchi, + in a horrified tone. + </p> + <p> + “I talk as I think. I have lived many years,” said Lingard, stretching his + arm negligently to take up the gun, which he began to examine knowingly, + cocking it, and easing down the hammer several times. “This is good. + Mataram make. Old, too,” he went on. + </p> + <p> + “Hai!” broke in Babalatchi, eagerly. “I got it when I was young. He was an + Aru trader, a man with a big stomach and a loud voice, and brave—very + brave. When we came up with his prau in the grey morning, he stood aft + shouting to his men and fired this gun at us once. Only once!” . . . He + paused, laughed softly, and went on in a low, dreamy voice. “In the grey + morning we came up: forty silent men in a swift Sulu prau; and when the + sun was so high”—here he held up his hands about three feet apart—“when + the sun was only so high, Tuan, our work was done—and there was a + feast ready for the fishes of the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye! aye!” muttered Lingard, nodding his head slowly. “I see. You should + not let it get rusty like this,” he added. + </p> + <p> + He let the gun fall between his knees, and moving back on his seat, leaned + his head against the wall of the hut, crossing his arms on his breast. + </p> + <p> + “A good gun,” went on Babalatchi. “Carry far and true. Better than this—there.” + </p> + <p> + With the tips of his fingers he touched gently the butt of a revolver + peeping out of the right pocket of Lingard’s white jacket. + </p> + <p> + “Take your hand off that,” said Lingard sharply, but in a good-humoured + tone and without making the slightest movement. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi smiled and hitched his seat a little further off. + </p> + <p> + For some time they sat in silence. Lingard, with his head tilted back, + looked downwards with lowered eyelids at Babalatchi, who was tracing + invisible lines with his finger on the mat between his feet. Outside, they + could hear Ali and the other boatmen chattering and laughing round the + fire they had lighted in the big and deserted courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what about that white man?” said Lingard, quietly. + </p> + <p> + It seemed as if Babalatchi had not heard the question. He went on tracing + elaborate patterns on the floor for a good while. Lingard waited + motionless. At last the Malay lifted his head. + </p> + <p> + “Hai! The white man. I know!” he murmured absently. “This white man or + another. . . . Tuan,” he said aloud with unexpected animation, “you are a + man of the sea?” + </p> + <p> + “You know me. Why ask?” said Lingard, in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A man of the sea—even as we are. A true Orang Laut,” went on + Babalatchi, thoughtfully, “not like the rest of the white men.” + </p> + <p> + “I am like other whites, and do not wish to speak many words when the + truth is short. I came here to see the white man that helped Lakamba + against Patalolo, who is my friend. Show me where that white man lives; I + want him to hear my talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk only? Tuan! Why hurry? The night is long and death is swift—as + you ought to know; you who have dealt it to so many of my people. Many + years ago I have faced you, arms in hand. Do you not remember? It was in + Carimata—far from here.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot remember every vagabond that came in my way,” protested Lingard, + seriously. + </p> + <p> + “Hai! Hai!” continued Babalatchi, unmoved and dreamy. “Many years ago. + Then all this”—and looking up suddenly at Lingard’s beard, he + flourished his fingers below his own beardless chin—“then all this + was like gold in sunlight, now it is like the foam of an angry sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, maybe,” said Lingard, patiently, paying the involuntary tribute of + a faint sigh to the memories of the past evoked by Babalatchi’s words. + </p> + <p> + He had been living with Malays so long and so close that the extreme + deliberation and deviousness of their mental proceedings had ceased to + irritate him much. To-night, perhaps, he was less prone to impatience than + ever. He was disposed, if not to listen to Babalatchi, then to let him + talk. It was evident to him that the man had something to say, and he + hoped that from the talk a ray of light would shoot through the thick + blackness of inexplicable treachery, to show him clearly—if only for + a second—the man upon whom he would have to execute the verdict of + justice. Justice only! Nothing was further from his thoughts than such an + useless thing as revenge. Justice only. It was his duty that justice + should be done—and by his own hand. He did not like to think how. To + him, as to Babalatchi, it seemed that the night would be long enough for + the work he had to do. But he did not define to himself the nature of the + work, and he sat very still, and willingly dilatory, under the fearsome + oppression of his call. What was the good to think about it? It was + inevitable, and its time was near. Yet he could not command his memories + that came crowding round him in that evil-smelling hut, while Babalatchi + talked on in a flowing monotone, nothing of him moving but the lips, in + the artificially inanimated face. Lingard, like an anchored ship that had + broken her sheer, darted about here and there on the rapid tide of his + recollections. The subdued sound of soft words rang around him, but his + thoughts were lost, now in the contemplation of the past sweetness and + strife of Carimata days, now in the uneasy wonder at the failure of his + judgment; at the fatal blindness of accident that had caused him, many + years ago, to rescue a half-starved runaway from a Dutch ship in Samarang + roads. How he had liked the man: his assurance, his push, his desire to + get on, his conceited good-humour and his selfish eloquence. He had liked + his very faults—those faults that had so many, to him, sympathetic + sides. + </p> + <p> + And he had always dealt fairly by him from the very beginning; and he + would deal fairly by him now—to the very end. This last thought + darkened Lingard’s features with a responsive and menacing frown. The doer + of justice sat with compressed lips and a heavy heart, while in the calm + darkness outside the silent world seemed to be waiting breathlessly for + that justice he held in his hand—in his strong hand:—ready to + strike—reluctant to move. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + Babalatchi ceased speaking. Lingard shifted his feet a little, uncrossed + his arms, and shook his head slowly. The narrative of the events in + Sambir, related from the point of view of the astute statesman, the sense + of which had been caught here and there by his inattentive ears, had been + yet like a thread to guide him out of the sombre labyrinth of his + thoughts; and now he had come to the end of it, out of the tangled past + into the pressing necessities of the present. With the palms of his hands + on his knees, his elbows squared out, he looked down on Babalatchi who sat + in a stiff attitude, inexpressive and mute as a talking doll the mechanism + of which had at length run down. + </p> + <p> + “You people did all this,” said Lingard at last, “and you will be sorry + for it before the dry wind begins to blow again. Abdulla’s voice will + bring the Dutch rule here.” + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi waved his hand towards the dark doorway. + </p> + <p> + “There are forests there. Lakamba rules the land now. Tell me, Tuan, do + you think the big trees know the name of the ruler? No. They are born, + they grow, they live and they die—yet know not, feel not. It is + their land.” + </p> + <p> + “Even a big tree may be killed by a small axe,” said Lingard, drily. “And, + remember, my one-eyed friend, that axes are made by white hands. You will + soon find that out, since you have hoisted the flag of the Dutch.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—wa!” said Babalatchi, slowly. “It is written that the earth + belongs to those who have fair skins and hard but foolish hearts. The + farther away is the master, the easier it is for the slave, Tuan! You were + too near. Your voice rang in our ears always. Now it is not going to be + so. The great Rajah in Batavia is strong, but he may be deceived. He must + speak very loud to be heard here. But if we have need to shout, then he + must hear the many voices that call for protection. He is but a white + man.” + </p> + <p> + “If I ever spoke to Patalolo, like an elder brother, it was for your good—for + the good of all,” said Lingard with great earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “This is a white man’s talk,” exclaimed Babalatchi, with bitter + exultation. “I know you. That is how you all talk while you load your guns + and sharpen your swords; and when you are ready, then to those who are + weak you say: ‘Obey me and be happy, or die! You are strange, you white + men. You think it is only your wisdom and your virtue and your happiness + that are true. You are stronger than the wild beasts, but not so wise. A + black tiger knows when he is not hungry—you do not. He knows the + difference between himself and those that can speak; you do not understand + the difference between yourselves and us—who are men. You are wise + and great—and you shall always be fools.” + </p> + <p> + He threw up both his hands, stirring the sleeping cloud of smoke that hung + above his head, and brought the open palms on the flimsy floor on each + side of his outstretched legs. The whole hut shook. Lingard looked at the + excited statesman curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Apa! Apa! What’s the matter?” he murmured, soothingly. “Whom did I kill + here? Where are my guns? What have I done? What have I eaten up?” + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi calmed down, and spoke with studied courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “You, Tuan, are of the sea, and more like what we are. Therefore I speak + to you all the words that are in my heart. . . . Only once has the sea + been stronger than the Rajah of the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “You know it; do you?” said Lingard, with pained sharpness. + </p> + <p> + “Hai! We have heard about your ship—and some rejoiced. Not I. + Amongst the whites, who are devils, you are a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Trima kassi! I give you thanks,” said Lingard, gravely. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi looked down with a bashful smile, but his face became saddened + directly, and when he spoke again it was in a mournful tone. + </p> + <p> + “Had you come a day sooner, Tuan, you would have seen an enemy die. You + would have seen him die poor, blind, unhappy—with no son to dig his + grave and speak of his wisdom and courage. Yes; you would have seen the + man that fought you in Carimata many years ago, die alone—but for + one friend. A great sight to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to me,” answered Lingard. “I did not even remember him till you spoke + his name just now. You do not understand us. We fight, we vanquish—and + we forget.” + </p> + <p> + “True, true,” said Babalatchi, with polite irony; “you whites are so great + that you disdain to remember your enemies. No! No!” he went on, in the + same tone, “you have so much mercy for us, that there is no room for any + remembrance. Oh, you are great and good! But it is in my mind that amongst + yourselves you know how to remember. Is it not so, Tuan?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard said nothing. His shoulders moved imperceptibly. He laid his gun + across his knees and stared at the flint lock absently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” went on Babalatchi, falling again into a mournful mood, “yes, he + died in darkness. I sat by his side and held his hand, but he could not + see the face of him who watched the faint breath on his lips. She, whom he + had cursed because of the white man, was there too, and wept with covered + face. The white man walked about the courtyard making many noises. Now and + then he would come to the doorway and glare at us who mourned. He stared + with wicked eyes, and then I was glad that he who was dying was blind. + This is true talk. I was glad; for a white man’s eyes are not good to see + when the devil that lives within is looking out through them.” + </p> + <p> + “Devil! Hey?” said Lingard, half aloud to himself, as if struck with the + obviousness of some novel idea. Babalatchi went on: + </p> + <p> + “At the first hour of the morning he sat up—he so weak—and + said plainly some words that were not meant for human ears. I held his + hand tightly, but it was time for the leader of brave men to go amongst + the Faithful who are happy. They of my household brought a white sheet, + and I began to dig a grave in the hut in which he died. She mourned aloud. + The white man came to the doorway and shouted. He was angry. Angry with + her because she beat her breast, and tore her hair, and mourned with + shrill cries as a woman should. Do you understand what I say, Tuan? That + white man came inside the hut with great fury, and took her by the + shoulder, and dragged her out. Yes, Tuan. I saw Omar dead, and I saw her + at the feet of that white dog who has deceived me. I saw his face grey, + like the cold mist of the morning; I saw his pale eyes looking down at + Omar’s daughter beating her head on the ground at his feet. At the feet of + him who is Abdulla’s slave. Yes, he lives by Abdulla’s will. That is why I + held my hand while I saw all this. I held my hand because we are now under + the flag of the Orang Blanda, and Abdulla can speak into the ears of the + great. We must not have any trouble with white men. Abdulla has spoken—and + I must obey.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it, is it?” growled Lingard in his moustache. Then in Malay, “It + seems that you are angry, O Babalatchi!” + </p> + <p> + “No; I am not angry, Tuan,” answered Babalatchi, descending from the + insecure heights of his indignation into the insincere depths of safe + humility. “I am not angry. What am I to be angry? I am only an Orang Laut, + and I have fled before your people many times. Servant of this one—protected + of another; I have given my counsel here and there for a handful of rice. + What am I, to be angry with a white man? What is anger without the power + to strike? But you whites have taken all: the land, the sea, and the power + to strike! And there is nothing left for us in the islands but your white + men’s justice; your great justice that knows not anger.” + </p> + <p> + He got up and stood for a moment in the doorway, sniffing the hot air of + the courtyard, then turned back and leaned against the stay of the ridge + pole, facing Lingard who kept his seat on the chest. The torch, consumed + nearly to the end, burned noisily. Small explosions took place in the + heart of the flame, driving through its smoky blaze strings of hard, round + puffs of white smoke, no bigger than peas, which rolled out of doors in + the faint draught that came from invisible cracks of the bamboo walls. The + pungent taint of unclean things below and about the hut grew heavier, + weighing down Lingard’s resolution and his thoughts in an irresistible + numbness of the brain. He thought drowsily of himself and of that man who + wanted to see him—who waited to see him. Who waited! Night and day. + Waited. . . . A spiteful but vaporous idea floated through his brain that + such waiting could not be very pleasant to the fellow. Well, let him wait. + He would see him soon enough. And for how long? Five seconds—five + minutes—say nothing—say something. What? No! Just give him + time to take one good look, and then . . . + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Babalatchi began to speak in a soft voice. Lingard blinked, + cleared his throat—sat up straight. + </p> + <p> + “You know all now, Tuan. Lakamba dwells in the stockaded house of + Patalolo; Abdulla has begun to build godowns of plank and stone; and now + that Omar is dead, I myself shall depart from this place and live with + Lakamba and speak in his ear. I have served many. The best of them all + sleeps in the ground in a white sheet, with nothing to mark his grave but + the ashes of the hut in which he died. Yes, Tuan! the white man destroyed + it himself. With a blazing brand in his hand he strode around, shouting to + me to come out—shouting to me, who was throwing earth on the body of + a great leader. Yes; swearing to me by the name of your God and ours that + he would burn me and her in there if we did not make haste. . . . Hai! The + white men are very masterful and wise. I dragged her out quickly!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, damn it!” exclaimed Lingard—then went on in Malay, speaking + earnestly. “Listen. That man is not like other white men. You know he is + not. He is not a man at all. He is . . . I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi lifted his hand deprecatingly. His eye twinkled, and his + red-stained big lips, parted by an expressionless grin, uncovered a stumpy + row of black teeth filed evenly to the gums. + </p> + <p> + “Hai! Hai! Not like you. Not like you,” he said, increasing the softness + of his tones as he neared the object uppermost in his mind during that + much-desired interview. “Not like you, Tuan, who are like ourselves, only + wiser and stronger. Yet he, also, is full of great cunning, and speaks of + you without any respect, after the manner of white men when they talk of + one another.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard leaped in his seat as if he had been prodded. + </p> + <p> + “He speaks! What does he say?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Tuan,” protested the composed Babalatchi; “what matters his talk if + he is not a man? I am nothing before you—why should I repeat words + of one white man about another? He did boast to Abdulla of having learned + much from your wisdom in years past. Other words I have forgotten. Indeed, + Tuan, I have . . .” + </p> + <p> + Lingard cut short Babalatchi’s protestations by a contemptuous wave of the + hand and reseated himself with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I shall go,” said Babalatchi, “and the white man will remain here, alone + with the spirit of the dead and with her who has been the delight of his + heart. He, being white, cannot hear the voice of those that died. . . . + Tell me, Tuan,” he went on, looking at Lingard with curiosity—“tell + me, Tuan, do you white people ever hear the voices of the invisible ones?” + </p> + <p> + “We do not,” answered Lingard, “because those that we cannot see do not + speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Never speak! And never complain with sounds that are not words?” + exclaimed Babalatchi, doubtingly. “It may be so—or your ears are + dull. We Malays hear many sounds near the places where men are buried. + To-night I heard . . . Yes, even I have heard. . . . I do not want to hear + any more,” he added, nervously. “Perhaps I was wrong when I . . . There + are things I regret. The trouble was heavy in his heart when he died. + Sometimes I think I was wrong . . . but I do not want to hear the + complaint of invisible lips. Therefore I go, Tuan. Let the unquiet spirit + speak to his enemy the white man who knows not fear, or love, or mercy—knows + nothing but contempt and violence. I have been wrong! I have! Hai! Hai!” + </p> + <p> + He stood for awhile with his elbow in the palm of his left hand, the + fingers of the other over his lips as if to stifle the expression of + inconvenient remorse; then, after glancing at the torch, burnt out nearly + to its end, he moved towards the wall by the chest, fumbled about there + and suddenly flung open a large shutter of attaps woven in a light + framework of sticks. Lingard swung his legs quickly round the corner of + his seat. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” he said, surprised. + </p> + <p> + The cloud of smoke stirred, and a slow wisp curled out through the new + opening. The torch flickered, hissed, and went out, the glowing end + falling on the mat, whence Babalatchi snatched it up and tossed it outside + through the open square. It described a vanishing curve of red light, and + lay below, shining feebly in the vast darkness. Babalatchi remained with + his arm stretched out into the empty night. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, “you can see the white man’s courtyard, Tuan, and his + house.” + </p> + <p> + “I can see nothing,” answered Lingard, putting his head through the + shutter-hole. “It’s too dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Tuan,” urged Babalatchi. “You have been looking long at the burning + torch. You will soon see. Mind the gun, Tuan. It is loaded.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no flint in it. You could not find a fire-stone for a hundred + miles round this spot,” said Lingard, testily. “Foolish thing to load that + gun.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a stone. I had it from a man wise and pious that lives in Menang + Kabau. A very pious man—very good fire. He spoke words over that + stone that make its sparks good. And the gun is good—carries + straight and far. Would carry from here to the door of the white man’s + house, I believe, Tuan.” + </p> + <p> + “Tida apa. Never mind your gun,” muttered Lingard, peering into the + formless darkness. “Is that the house—that black thing over there?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Babalatchi; “that is his house. He lives there by the will + of Abdulla, and shall live there till . . . From where you stand, Tuan, + you can look over the fence and across the courtyard straight at the door—at + the door from which he comes out every morning, looking like a man that + had seen Jehannum in his sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard drew his head in. Babalatchi touched his shoulder with a groping + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little, Tuan. Sit still. The morning is not far off now—a + morning without sun after a night without stars. But there will be light + enough to see the man who said not many days ago that he alone has made + you less than a child in Sambir.” + </p> + <p> + He felt a slight tremor under his hand, but took it off directly and began + feeling all over the lid of the chest, behind Lingard’s back, for the gun. + </p> + <p> + “What are you at?” said Lingard, impatiently. “You do worry about that + rotten gun. You had better get a light.” + </p> + <p> + “A light! I tell you, Tuan, that the light of heaven is very near,” said + Babalatchi, who had now obtained possession of the object of his + solicitude, and grasping it strongly by its long barrel, grounded the + stock at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it is near,” said Lingard, leaning both his elbows on the lower + cross-piece of the primitive window and looking out. “It is very black + outside yet,” he remarked carelessly. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi fidgeted about. + </p> + <p> + “It is not good for you to sit where you may be seen,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “The white man sleeps, it is true,” explained Babalatchi, softly; “yet he + may come out early, and he has arms.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! he has arms?” said Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; a short gun that fires many times—like yours here. Abdulla had + to give it to him.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard heard Babalatchi’s words, but made no movement. To the old + adventurer the idea that fire arms could be dangerous in other hands than + his own did not occur readily, and certainly not in connection with + Willems. He was so busy with the thoughts about what he considered his own + sacred duty, that he could not give any consideration to the probable + actions of the man of whom he thought—as one may think of an + executed criminal—with wondering indignation tempered by scornful + pity. While he sat staring into the darkness, that every minute grew + thinner before his pensive eyes, like a dispersing mist, Willems appeared + to him as a figure belonging already wholly to the past—a figure + that could come in no way into his life again. He had made up his mind, + and the thing was as well as done. In his weary thoughts he had closed + this fatal, inexplicable, and horrible episode in his life. The worst had + happened. The coming days would see the retribution. + </p> + <p> + He had removed an enemy once or twice before, out of his path; he had paid + off some very heavy scores a good many times. Captain Tom had been a good + friend to many: but it was generally understood, from Honolulu round about + to Diego Suarez, that Captain Tom’s enmity was rather more than any man + single-handed could easily manage. He would not, as he said often, hurt a + fly as long as the fly left him alone; yet a man does not live for years + beyond the pale of civilized laws without evolving for himself some queer + notions of justice. Nobody of those he knew had ever cared to point out to + him the errors of his conceptions. + </p> + <p> + It was not worth anybody’s while to run counter to Lingard’s ideas of the + fitness of things—that fact was acquired to the floating wisdom of + the South Seas, of the Eastern Archipelago, and was nowhere better + understood than in out-of-the-way nooks of the world; in those nooks which + he filled, unresisted and masterful, with the echoes of his noisy + presence. There is not much use in arguing with a man who boasts of never + having regretted a single action of his life, whose answer to a mild + criticism is a good-natured shout—“You know nothing about it. I + would do it again. Yes, sir!” His associates and his acquaintances + accepted him, his opinions, his actions like things preordained and + unchangeable; looked upon his many-sided manifestations with passive + wonder not unmixed with that admiration which is only the rightful due of + a successful man. But nobody had ever seen him in the mood he was in now. + Nobody had seen Lingard doubtful and giving way to doubt, unable to make + up his mind and unwilling to act; Lingard timid and hesitating one minute, + angry yet inactive the next; Lingard puzzled in a word, because confronted + with a situation that discomposed him by its unprovoked malevolence, by + its ghastly injustice, that to his rough but unsophisticated palate tasted + distinctly of sulphurous fumes from the deepest hell. + </p> + <p> + The smooth darkness filling the shutter-hole grew paler and became blotchy + with ill-defined shapes, as if a new universe was being evolved out of + sombre chaos. Then outlines came out, defining forms without any details, + indicating here a tree, there a bush; a black belt of forest far off; the + straight lines of a house, the ridge of a high roof near by. Inside the + hut, Babalatchi, who lately had been only a persuasive voice, became a + human shape leaning its chin imprudently on the muzzle of a gun and + rolling an uneasy eye over the reappearing world. The day came rapidly, + dismal and oppressed by the fog of the river and by the heavy vapours of + the sky—a day without colour and without sunshine: incomplete, + disappointing, and sad. + </p> + <p> + Babalatchi twitched gently Lingard’s sleeve, and when the old seaman had + lifted up his head interrogatively, he stretched out an arm and a pointing + forefinger towards Willems’ house, now plainly visible to the right and + beyond the big tree of the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Tuan!” he said. “He lives there. That is the door—his door. + Through it he will appear soon, with his hair in disorder and his mouth + full of curses. That is so. He is a white man, and never satisfied. It is + in my mind he is angry even in his sleep. A dangerous man. As Tuan may + observe,” he went on, obsequiously, “his door faces this opening, where + you condescend to sit, which is concealed from all eyes. Faces it—straight—and + not far. Observe, Tuan, not at all far.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I can see. I shall see him when he wakes.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, Tuan. When he wakes. . . . If you remain here he can not see + you. I shall withdraw quickly and prepare my canoe myself. I am only a + poor man, and must go to Sambir to greet Lakamba when he opens his eyes. I + must bow before Abdulla who has strength—even more strength than + you. Now if you remain here, you shall easily behold the man who boasted + to Abdulla that he had been your friend, even while he prepared to fight + those who called you protector. Yes, he plotted with Abdulla for that + cursed flag. Lakamba was blind then, and I was deceived. But you, Tuan! + Remember, he deceived you more. Of that he boasted before all men.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned the gun quietly against the wall close to the window, and said + softly: “Shall I go now, Tuan? Be careful of the gun. I have put the + fire-stone in. The fire-stone of the wise man, which never fails.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard’s eyes were fastened on the distant doorway. Across his line of + sight, in the grey emptiness of the courtyard, a big fruit-pigeon flapped + languidly towards the forests with a loud booming cry, like the note of a + deep gong: a brilliant bird looking in the gloom of threatening day as + black as a crow. A serried flock of white rice birds rose above the trees + with a faint scream, and hovered, swaying in a disordered mass that + suddenly scattered in all directions, as if burst asunder by a silent + explosion. Behind his back Lingard heard a shuffle of feet—women + leaving the hut. In the other courtyard a voice was heard complaining of + cold, and coming very feeble, but exceedingly distinct, out of the vast + silence of the abandoned houses and clearings. Babalatchi coughed + discreetly. From under the house the thumping of wooden pestles husking + the rice started with unexpected abruptness. The weak but clear voice in + the yard again urged, “Blow up the embers, O brother!” Another voice + answered, drawling in modulated, thin sing-song, “Do it yourself, O + shivering pig!” and the drawl of the last words stopped short, as if the + man had fallen into a deep hole. Babalatchi coughed again a little + impatiently, and said in a confidential tone— + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it is time for me to go, Tuan? Will you take care of my gun, + Tuan? I am a man that knows how to obey; even obey Abdulla, who has + deceived me. Nevertheless this gun carries far and true—if you would + want to know, Tuan. And I have put in a double measure of powder, and + three slugs. Yes, Tuan. Now—perhaps—I go.” + </p> + <p> + When Babalatchi commenced speaking, Lingard turned slowly round and gazed + upon him with the dull and unwilling look of a sick man waking to another + day of suffering. As the astute statesman proceeded, Lingard’s eyebrows + came close, his eyes became animated, and a big vein stood out on his + forehead, accentuating a lowering frown. When speaking his last words + Babalatchi faltered, then stopped, confused, before the steady gaze of the + old seaman. + </p> + <p> + Lingard rose. His face cleared, and he looked down at the anxious + Babalatchi with sudden benevolence. + </p> + <p> + “So! That’s what you were after,” he said, laying a heavy hand on + Babalatchi’s yielding shoulder. “You thought I came here to murder him. + Hey? Speak! You faithful dog of an Arab trader!” + </p> + <p> + “And what else, Tuan?” shrieked Babalatchi, exasperated into sincerity. + “What else, Tuan! Remember what he has done; he poisoned our ears with his + talk about you. You are a man. If you did not come to kill, Tuan, then + either I am a fool or . . .” + </p> + <p> + He paused, struck his naked breast with his open palm, and finished in a + discouraged whisper—“or, Tuan, you are.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked down at him with scornful serenity. After his long and + painful gropings amongst the obscure abominations of Willems’ conduct, the + logical if tortuous evolutions of Babalatchi’s diplomatic mind were to him + welcome as daylight. There was something at last he could understand—the + clear effect of a simple cause. He felt indulgent towards the disappointed + sage. + </p> + <p> + “So you are angry with your friend, O one-eyed one!” he said slowly, + nodding his fierce countenance close to Babalatchi’s discomfited face. “It + seems to me that you must have had much to do with what happened in Sambir + lately. Hey? You son of a burnt father.” + </p> + <p> + “May I perish under your hand, O Rajah of the sea, if my words are not + true!” said Babalatchi, with reckless excitement. “You are here in the + midst of your enemies. He the greatest. Abdulla would do nothing without + him, and I could do nothing without Abdulla. Strike me—so that you + strike all!” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you,” exclaimed Lingard contemptuously—“who are you to dare + call yourself my enemy! Dirt! Nothing! Go out first,” he went on severely. + “Lakas! quick. March out!” + </p> + <p> + He pushed Babalatchi through the doorway and followed him down the short + ladder into the courtyard. The boatmen squatting over the fire turned + their slow eyes with apparent difficulty towards the two men; then, + unconcerned, huddled close together again, stretching forlornly their + hands over the embers. The women stopped in their work and with uplifted + pestles flashed quick and curious glances from the gloom under the house. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the way?” asked Lingard with a nod towards the little wicket-gate + of Willems’ enclosure. + </p> + <p> + “If you seek death, that is surely the way,” answered Babalatchi in a + dispassionate voice, as if he had exhausted all the emotions. “He lives + there: he who destroyed your friends; who hastened Omar’s death; who + plotted with Abdulla first against you, then against me. I have been like + a child. O shame! . . . But go, Tuan. Go there.” + </p> + <p> + “I go where I like,” said Lingard, emphatically, “and you may go to the + devil; I do not want you any more. The islands of these seas shall sink + before I, Rajah Laut, serve the will of any of your people. Tau? But I + tell you this: I do not care what you do with him after to-day. And I say + that because I am merciful.” + </p> + <p> + “Tida! I do nothing,” said Babalatchi, shaking his head with bitter + apathy. “I am in Abdulla’s hand and care not, even as you do. No! no!” he + added, turning away, “I have learned much wisdom this morning. There are + no men anywhere. You whites are cruel to your friends and merciful to your + enemies—which is the work of fools.” + </p> + <p> + He went away towards the riverside, and, without once looking back, + disappeared in the low bank of mist that lay over the water and the shore. + Lingard followed him with his eyes thoughtfully. After awhile he roused + himself and called out to his boatmen— + </p> + <p> + “Hai—ya there! After you have eaten rice, wait for me with your + paddles in your hands. You hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Ada, Tuan!” answered Ali through the smoke of the morning fire that was + spreading itself, low and gentle, over the courtyard—“we hear!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard opened slowly the little wicket-gate, made a few steps into the + empty enclosure, and stopped. He had felt about his head the short breath + of a puff of wind that passed him, made every leaf of the big tree shiver—and + died out in a hardly perceptible tremor of branches and twigs. + Instinctively he glanced upwards with a seaman’s impulse. Above him, under + the grey motionless waste of a stormy sky, drifted low black vapours, in + stretching bars, in shapeless patches, in sinuous wisps and tormented + spirals. Over the courtyard and the house floated a round, sombre, and + lingering cloud, dragging behind a tail of tangled and filmy streamers—like + the dishevelled hair of a mourning woman. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + “Beware!” + </p> + <p> + The tremulous effort and the broken, inadequate tone of the faint cry, + surprised Lingard more than the unexpected suddenness of the warning + conveyed, he did not know by whom and to whom. Besides himself there was + no one in the courtyard as far as he could see. + </p> + <p> + The cry was not renewed, and his watchful eyes, scanning warily the misty + solitude of Willems’ enclosure, were met everywhere only by the stolid + impassiveness of inanimate things: the big sombre-looking tree, the + shut-up, sightless house, the glistening bamboo fences, the damp and + drooping bushes further off—all these things, that condemned to look + for ever at the incomprehensible afflictions or joys of mankind, assert in + their aspect of cold unconcern the high dignity of lifeless matter that + surrounds, incurious and unmoved, the restless mysteries of the + ever-changing, of the never-ending life. + </p> + <p> + Lingard, stepping aside, put the trunk of the tree between himself and the + house, then, moving cautiously round one of the projecting buttresses, had + to tread short in order to avoid scattering a small heap of black embers + upon which he came unexpectedly on the other side. A thin, wizened, little + old woman, who, standing behind the tree, had been looking at the house, + turned towards him with a start, gazed with faded, expressionless eyes at + the intruder, then made a limping attempt to get away. She seemed, + however, to realize directly the hopelessness or the difficulty of the + undertaking, stopped, hesitated, tottered back slowly; then, after + blinking dully, fell suddenly on her knees amongst the white ashes, and, + bending over the heap of smouldering coals, distended her sunken cheeks in + a steady effort to blow up the hidden sparks into a useful blaze. Lingard + looked down on her, but she seemed to have made up her mind that there was + not enough life left in her lean body for anything else than the discharge + of the simple domestic duty, and, apparently, she begrudged him the least + moment of attention. + </p> + <p> + After waiting for awhile, Lingard asked— + </p> + <p> + “Why did you call, O daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you enter,” she croaked feebly, still grovelling with her face near + the ashes and without looking up, “and I called—the cry of warning. + It was her order. Her order,” she repeated, with a moaning sigh. + </p> + <p> + “And did she hear?” pursued Lingard, with gentle composure. + </p> + <p> + Her projecting shoulder-blades moved uneasily under the thin stuff of the + tight body jacket. She scrambled up with difficulty to her feet, and + hobbled away, muttering peevishly to herself, towards a pile of dry + brushwood heaped up against the fence. + </p> + <p> + Lingard, looking idly after her, heard the rattle of loose planks that led + from the ground to the door of the house. He moved his head beyond the + shelter of the tree and saw Aissa coming down the inclined way into the + courtyard. After making a few hurried paces towards the tree, she stopped + with one foot advanced in an appearance of sudden terror, and her eyes + glanced wildly right and left. Her head was uncovered. A blue cloth + wrapped her from her head to foot in close slanting folds, with one end + thrown over her shoulder. A tress of her black hair strayed across her + bosom. Her bare arms pressed down close to her body, with hands open and + outstretched fingers; her slightly elevated shoulders and the backward + inclination of her torso gave her the aspect of one defiant yet shrinking + from a coming blow. She had closed the door of the house behind her; and + as she stood solitary in the unnatural and threatening twilight of the + murky day, with everything unchanged around her, she appeared to Lingard + as if she had been made there, on the spot, out of the black vapours of + the sky and of the sinister gleams of feeble sunshine that struggled, + through the thickening clouds, into the colourless desolation of the + world. + </p> + <p> + After a short but attentive glance towards the shut-up house, Lingard + stepped out from behind the tree and advanced slowly towards her. The + sudden fixity of her—till then—restless eyes and a slight + twitch of her hands were the only signs she gave at first of having seen + him. She made a long stride forward, and putting herself right in his + path, stretched her arms across; her black eyes opened wide, her lips + parted as if in an uncertain attempt to speak—but no sound came out + to break the significant silence of their meeting. Lingard stopped and + looked at her with stern curiosity. After a while he said composedly— + </p> + <p> + “Let me pass. I came here to talk to a man. Does he hide? Has he sent + you?” + </p> + <p> + She made a step nearer, her arms fell by her side, then she put them + straight out nearly touching Lingard’s breast. + </p> + <p> + “He knows not fear,” she said, speaking low, with a forward throw of her + head, in a voice trembling but distinct. “It is my own fear that has sent + me here. He sleeps.” + </p> + <p> + “He has slept long enough,” said Lingard, in measured tones. “I am come—and + now is the time of his waking. Go and tell him this—or else my own + voice will call him up. A voice he knows well.” + </p> + <p> + He put her hands down firmly and again made as if to pass by her. + </p> + <p> + “Do not!” she exclaimed, and fell at his feet as if she had been cut down + by a scythe. The unexpected suddenness of her movement startled Lingard, + who stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “What’s this?” he exclaimed in a wondering whisper—then added in a + tone of sharp command: “Stand up!” + </p> + <p> + She rose at once and stood looking at him, timorous and fearless; yet with + a fire of recklessness burning in her eyes that made clear her resolve to + pursue her purpose even to the death. Lingard went on in a severe voice— + </p> + <p> + “Go out of my path. You are Omar’s daughter, and you ought to know that + when men meet in daylight women must be silent and abide their fate.” + </p> + <p> + “Women!” she retorted, with subdued vehemence. “Yes, I am a woman! Your + eyes see that, O Rajah Laut, but can you see my life? I also have heard—O + man of many fights—I also have heard the voice of fire-arms; I also + have felt the rain of young twigs and of leaves cut up by bullets fall + down about my head; I also know how to look in silence at angry faces and + at strong hands raised high grasping sharp steel. I also saw men fall dead + around me without a cry of fear and of mourning; and I have watched the + sleep of weary fugitives, and looked at night shadows full of menace and + death with eyes that knew nothing but watchfulness. And,” she went on, + with a mournful drop in her voice, “I have faced the heartless sea, held + on my lap the heads of those who died raving from thirst, and from their + cold hands took the paddle and worked so that those with me did not know + that one man more was dead. I did all this. What more have you done? That + was my life. What has been yours?” + </p> + <p> + The matter and the manner of her speech held Lingard motionless, attentive + and approving against his will. She ceased speaking, and from her staring + black eyes with a narrow border of white above and below, a double ray of + her very soul streamed out in a fierce desire to light up the most obscure + designs of his heart. After a long silence, which served to emphasize the + meaning of her words, she added in the whisper of bitter regret— + </p> + <p> + “And I have knelt at your feet! And I am afraid!” + </p> + <p> + “You,” said Lingard deliberately, and returning her look with an + interested gaze, “you are a woman whose heart, I believe, is great enough + to fill a man’s breast: but still you are a woman, and to you, I, Rajah + Laut, have nothing to say.” + </p> + <p> + She listened bending her head in a movement of forced attention; and his + voice sounded to her unexpected, far off, with the distant and unearthly + ring of voices that we hear in dreams, saying faintly things startling, + cruel or absurd, to which there is no possible reply. To her he had + nothing to say! She wrung her hands, glanced over the courtyard with that + eager and distracted look that sees nothing, then looked up at the + hopeless sky of livid grey and drifting black; at the unquiet mourning of + the hot and brilliant heaven that had seen the beginning of her love, that + had heard his entreaties and her answers, that had seen his desire and her + fear; that had seen her joy, her surrender—and his defeat. Lingard + moved a little, and this slight stir near her precipitated her disordered + and shapeless thoughts into hurried words. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she exclaimed in a stifled voice, and went on disconnectedly and + rapidly—“Stay. I have heard. Men often spoke by the fires . . . men + of my people. And they said of you—the first on the sea—they + said that to men’s cries you were deaf in battle, but after . . . No! even + while you fought, your ears were open to the voice of children and women. + They said . . . that. Now I, a woman, I . . .” + </p> + <p> + She broke off suddenly and stood before him with dropped eyelids and + parted lips, so still now that she seemed to have been changed into a + breathless, an unhearing, an unseeing figure, without knowledge of fear or + hope, of anger or despair. In the astounding repose that came on her face, + nothing moved but the delicate nostrils that expanded and collapsed + quickly, flutteringly, in interrupted beats, like the wings of a snared + bird. + </p> + <p> + “I am white,” said Lingard, proudly, looking at her with a steady gaze + where simple curiosity was giving way to a pitying annoyance, “and men you + have heard, spoke only what is true over the evening fires. My ears are + open to your prayer. But listen to me before you speak. For yourself you + need not be afraid. You can come even now with me and you shall find + refuge in the household of Syed Abdulla—who is of your own faith. + And this also you must know: nothing that you may say will change my + purpose towards the man who is sleeping—or hiding—in that + house.” + </p> + <p> + Again she gave him the look that was like a stab, not of anger but of + desire; of the intense, over-powering desire to see in, to see through, to + understand everything: every thought, emotion, purpose; every impulse, + every hesitation inside that man; inside that white-clad foreign being who + looked at her, who spoke to her, who breathed before her like any other + man, but bigger, red-faced, white-haired and mysterious. It was the future + clothed in flesh; the to-morrow; the day after; all the days, all the + years of her life standing there before her alive and secret, with all + their good or evil shut up within the breast of that man; of that man who + could be persuaded, cajoled, entreated, perhaps touched, worried; + frightened—who knows?—if only first he could be understood! + She had seen a long time ago whither events were tending. She had noted + the contemptuous yet menacing coldness of Abdulla; she had heard—alarmed + yet unbelieving—Babalatchi’s gloomy hints, covert allusions and + veiled suggestions to abandon the useless white man whose fate would be + the price of the peace secured by the wise and good who had no need of him + any more. And he—himself! She clung to him. There was nobody else. + Nothing else. She would try to cling to him always—all the life! And + yet he was far from her. Further every day. Every day he seemed more + distant, and she followed him patiently, hopefully, blindly, but steadily, + through all the devious wanderings of his mind. She followed as well as + she could. Yet at times—very often lately—she had felt lost + like one strayed in the thickets of tangled undergrowth of a great forest. + To her the ex-clerk of old Hudig appeared as remote, as brilliant, as + terrible, as necessary, as the sun that gives life to these lands: the sun + of unclouded skies that dazzles and withers; the sun beneficent and wicked—the + giver of light, perfume, and pestilence. She had watched him—watched + him close; fascinated by love, fascinated by danger. He was alone now—but + for her; and she saw—she thought she saw—that he was like a + man afraid of something. Was it possible? He afraid? Of what? Was it of + that old white man who was coming—who had come? Possibly. She had + heard of that man ever since she could remember. The bravest were afraid + of him! And now what was in the mind of this old, old man who looked so + strong? What was he going to do with the light of her life? Put it out? + Take it away? Take it away for ever!—for ever!—and leave her + in darkness:—not in the stirring, whispering, expectant night in + which the hushed world awaits the return of sunshine; but in the night + without end, the night of the grave, where nothing breathes, nothing + moves, nothing thinks—the last darkness of cold and silence without + hope of another sunrise. + </p> + <p> + She cried—“Your purpose! You know nothing. I must . . .” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted—unreasonably excited, as if she had, by her look, + inoculated him with some of her own distress. + </p> + <p> + “I know enough.” + </p> + <p> + She approached, and stood facing him at arm’s length, with both her hands + on his shoulders; and he, surprised by that audacity, closed and opened + his eyes two or three times, aware of some emotion arising within him, + from her words, her tone, her contact; an emotion unknown, singular, + penetrating and sad—at the close sight of that strange woman, of + that being savage and tender, strong and delicate, fearful and resolute, + that had got entangled so fatally between their two lives—his own + and that other white man’s, the abominable scoundrel. + </p> + <p> + “How can you know?” she went on, in a persuasive tone that seemed to flow + out of her very heart—“how can you know? I live with him all the + days. All the nights. I look at him; I see his every breath, every glance + of his eye, every movement of his lips. I see nothing else! What else is + there? And even I do not understand. I do not understand him!—Him!—My + life! Him who to me is so great that his presence hides the earth and the + water from my sight!” + </p> + <p> + Lingard stood straight, with his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. + His eyes winked quickly, because she spoke very close to his face. She + disturbed him and he had a sense of the efforts he was making to get hold + of her meaning, while all the time he could not help telling himself that + all this was of no use. + </p> + <p> + She added after a pause—“There has been a time when I could + understand him. When I knew what was in his mind better than he knew it + himself. When I felt him. When I held him. . . . And now he has escaped.” + </p> + <p> + “Escaped? What? Gone away!” shouted Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “Escaped from me,” she said; “left me alone. Alone. And I am ever near + him. Yet alone.” + </p> + <p> + Her hands slipped slowly off Lingard’s shoulders and her arms fell by her + side, listless, discouraged, as if to her—to her, the savage, + violent, and ignorant creature—had been revealed clearly in that + moment the tremendous fact of our isolation, of the loneliness + impenetrable and transparent, elusive and everlasting; of the + indestructible loneliness that surrounds, envelopes, clothes every human + soul from the cradle to the grave, and, perhaps, beyond. + </p> + <p> + “Aye! Very well! I understand. His face is turned away from you,” said + Lingard. “Now, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want . . . I have looked—for help . . . everywhere . . . against + men. . . . All men . . . I do not know. First they came, the invisible + whites, and dealt death from afar . . . then he came. He came to me who + was alone and sad. He came; angry with his brothers; great amongst his own + people; angry with those I have not seen: with the people where men have + no mercy and women have no shame. He was of them, and great amongst them. + For he was great?” + </p> + <p> + Lingard shook his head slightly. She frowned at him, and went on in + disordered haste— + </p> + <p> + “Listen. I saw him. I have lived by the side of brave men . . . of chiefs. + When he came I was the daughter of a beggar—of a blind man without + strength and hope. He spoke to me as if I had been brighter than the + sunshine—more delightful than the cool water of the brook by which + we met—more . . .” Her anxious eyes saw some shade of expression + pass on her listener’s face that made her hold her breath for a second, + and then explode into pained fury so violent that it drove Lingard back a + pace, like an unexpected blast of wind. He lifted both his hands, + incongruously paternal in his venerable aspect, bewildered and soothing, + while she stretched her neck forward and shouted at him. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I was all that to him. I know it! I saw it! . . . There are + times when even you white men speak the truth. I saw his eyes. I felt his + eyes, I tell you! I saw him tremble when I came near—when I spoke—when + I touched him. Look at me! You have been young. Look at me. Look, Rajah + Laut!” + </p> + <p> + She stared at Lingard with provoking fixity, then, turning her head + quickly, she sent over her shoulder a glance, full of humble fear, at the + house that stood high behind her back—dark, closed, rickety and + silent on its crooked posts. + </p> + <p> + Lingard’s eyes followed her look, and remained gazing expectantly at the + house. After a minute or so he muttered, glancing at her suspiciously— + </p> + <p> + “If he has not heard your voice now, then he must be far away—or + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “He is there,” she whispered, a little calmed but still anxious—“he + is there. For three days he waited. Waited for you night and day. And I + waited with him. I waited, watching his face, his eyes, his lips; + listening to his words.—To the words I could not understand.—To + the words he spoke in daylight; to the words he spoke at night in his + short sleep. I listened. He spoke to himself walking up and down here—by + the river; by the bushes. And I followed. I wanted to know—and I + could not! He was tormented by things that made him speak in the words of + his own people. Speak to himself—not to me. Not to me! What was he + saying? What was he going to do? Was he afraid of you?—Of death? + What was in his heart? . . . Fear? . . . Or anger? . . . what desire? . . + . what sadness? He spoke; spoke; many words. All the time! And I could not + know! I wanted to speak to him. He was deaf to me. I followed him + everywhere, watching for some word I could understand; but his mind was in + the land of his people—away from me. When I touched him he was angry—so!” + </p> + <p> + She imitated the movement of some one shaking off roughly an importunate + hand, and looked at Lingard with tearful and unsteady eyes. + </p> + <p> + After a short interval of laboured panting, as if she had been out of + breath with running or fighting, she looked down and went on— + </p> + <p> + “Day after day, night after night, I lived watching him—seeing + nothing. And my heart was heavy—heavy with the presence of death + that dwelt amongst us. I could not believe. I thought he was afraid. + Afraid of you! Then I, myself, knew fear. . . . Tell me, Rajah Laut, do + you know the fear without voice—the fear of silence—the fear + that comes when there is no one near—when there is no battle, no + cries, no angry faces or armed hands anywhere? . . . The fear from which + there is no escape!” + </p> + <p> + She paused, fastened her eyes again on the puzzled Lingard, and hurried on + in a tone of despair— + </p> + <p> + “And I knew then he would not fight you! Before—many days ago—I + went away twice to make him obey my desire; to make him strike at his own + people so that he could be mine—mine! O calamity! His hand was false + as your white hearts. It struck forward, pushed by my desire—by his + desire of me. . . . It struck that strong hand, and—O shame!—it + killed nobody! Its fierce and lying blow woke up hate without any fear. + Round me all was lies. His strength was a lie. My own people lied to me + and to him. And to meet you—you, the great!—he had no one but + me? But me with my rage, my pain, my weakness. Only me! And to me he would + not even speak. The fool!” + </p> + <p> + She came up close to Lingard, with the wild and stealthy aspect of a + lunatic longing to whisper out an insane secret—one of those + misshapen, heart-rending, and ludicrous secrets; one of those thoughts + that, like monsters—cruel, fantastic, and mournful, wander about + terrible and unceasing in the night of madness. Lingard looked at her, + astounded but unflinching. She spoke in his face, very low. + </p> + <p> + “He is all! Everything. He is my breath, my light, my heart. . . . Go + away. . . . Forget him. . . . He has no courage and no wisdom any more . . + . and I have lost my power. . . . Go away and forget. There are other + enemies. . . . Leave him to me. He had been a man once. . . . You are too + great. Nobody can withstand you. . . . I tried. . . . I know now . . . . I + cry for mercy. Leave him to me and go away.” + </p> + <p> + The fragments of her supplicating sentences were as if tossed on the crest + of her sobs. Lingard, outwardly impassive, with his eyes fixed on the + house, experienced that feeling of condemnation, deep-seated, persuasive, + and masterful; that illogical impulse of disapproval which is half + disgust, half vague fear, and that wakes up in our hearts in the presence + of anything new or unusual, of anything that is not run into the mould of + our own conscience; the accursed feeling made up of disdain, of anger, and + of the sense of superior virtue that leaves us deaf, blind, contemptuous + and stupid before anything which is not like ourselves. + </p> + <p> + He answered, not looking at her at first, but speaking towards the house + that fascinated him— + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> go away! He wanted me to come—he himself did! . . . <i>You</i> + must go away. You do not know what you are asking for. Listen. Go to your + own people. Leave him. He is . . .” + </p> + <p> + He paused, looked down at her with his steady eyes; hesitated, as if + seeking an adequate expression; then snapped his fingers, and said— + </p> + <p> + “Finish.” + </p> + <p> + She stepped back, her eyes on the ground, and pressed her temples with + both her hands, which she raised to her head in a slow and ample movement + full of unconscious tragedy. The tone of her words was gentle and + vibrating, like a loud meditation. She said— + </p> + <p> + “Tell the brook not to run to the river; tell the river not to run to the + sea. Speak loud. Speak angrily. Maybe they will obey you. But it is in my + mind that the brook will not care. The brook that springs out of the + hillside and runs to the great river. He would not care for your words: he + that cares not for the very mountain that gave him life; he that tears the + earth from which he springs. Tears it, eats it, destroys it—to hurry + faster to the river—to the river in which he is lost for ever. . . . + O Rajah Laut! I do not care.” + </p> + <p> + She drew close again to Lingard, approaching slowly, reluctantly, as if + pushed by an invisible hand, and added in words that seemed to be torn out + of her— + </p> + <p> + “I cared not for my own father. For him that died. I would have rather . . + . You do not know what I have done . . . I . . .” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have his life,” said Lingard, hastily. + </p> + <p> + They stood together, crossing their glances; she suddenly appeased, and + Lingard thoughtful and uneasy under a vague sense of defeat. And yet there + was no defeat. He never intended to kill the fellow—not after the + first moment of anger, a long time ago. The days of bitter wonder had + killed anger; had left only a bitter indignation and a bitter wish for + complete justice. He felt discontented and surprised. Unexpectedly he had + come upon a human being—a woman at that—who had made him + disclose his will before its time. She should have his life. But she must + be told, she must know, that for such men as Willems there was no favour + and no grace. + </p> + <p> + “Understand,” he said slowly, “that I leave him his life not in mercy but + in punishment.” + </p> + <p> + She started, watched every word on his lips, and after he finished + speaking she remained still and mute in astonished immobility. A single + big drop of rain, a drop enormous, pellucid and heavy—like a + super-human tear coming straight and rapid from above, tearing its way + through the sombre sky—struck loudly the dry ground between them in + a starred splash. She wrung her hands in the bewilderment of the new and + incomprehensible fear. The anguish of her whisper was more piercing than + the shrillest cry. + </p> + <p> + “What punishment! Will you take him away then? Away from me? Listen to + what I have done. . . . It is I who . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Lingard, who had been looking at the house. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you believe her, Captain Lingard,” shouted Willems from the + doorway, where he appeared with swollen eyelids and bared breast. He stood + for a while, his hands grasping the lintels on each side of the door, and + writhed about, glaring wildly, as if he had been crucified there. Then he + made a sudden rush head foremost down the plankway that responded with + hollow, short noises to every footstep. + </p> + <p> + She heard him. A slight thrill passed on her face and the words that were + on her lips fell back unspoken into her benighted heart; fell back amongst + the mud, the stones—and the flowers, that are at the bottom of every + heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + When he felt the solid ground of the courtyard under his feet, Willems + pulled himself up in his headlong rush and moved forward with a moderate + gait. He paced stiffly, looking with extreme exactitude at Lingard’s face; + looking neither to the right nor to the left but at the face only, as if + there was nothing in the world but those features familiar and dreaded; + that white-haired, rough and severe head upon which he gazed in a fixed + effort of his eyes, like a man trying to read small print at the full + range of human vision. As soon as Willems’ feet had left the planks, the + silence which had been lifted up by the jerky rattle of his footsteps fell + down again upon the courtyard; the silence of the cloudy sky and of the + windless air, the sullen silence of the earth oppressed by the aspect of + coming turmoil, the silence of the world collecting its faculties to + withstand the storm. Through this silence Willems pushed his way, and + stopped about six feet from Lingard. He stopped simply because he could go + no further. He had started from the door with the reckless purpose of + clapping the old fellow on the shoulder. He had no idea that the man would + turn out to be so tall, so big and so unapproachable. It seemed to him + that he had never, never in his life, seen Lingard. + </p> + <p> + He tried to say— + </p> + <p> + “Do not believe . . .” + </p> + <p> + A fit of coughing checked his sentence in a faint splutter. Directly + afterwards he swallowed—as it were—a couple of pebbles, + throwing his chin up in the act; and Lingard, who looked at him narrowly, + saw a bone, sharp and triangular like the head of a snake, dart up and + down twice under the skin of his throat. Then that, too, did not move. + Nothing moved. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Lingard, and with that word he came unexpectedly to the end + of his speech. His hand in his pocket closed firmly round the butt of his + revolver bulging his jacket on the hip, and he thought how soon and how + quickly he could terminate his quarrel with that man who had been so + anxious to deliver himself into his hands—and how inadequate would + be that ending! He could not bear the idea of that man escaping from him + by going out of life; escaping from fear, from doubt, from remorse into + the peaceful certitude of death. He held him now. And he was not going to + let him go—to let him disappear for ever in the faint blue smoke of + a pistol shot. His anger grew within him. He felt a touch as of a burning + hand on his heart. Not on the flesh of his breast, but a touch on his + heart itself, on the palpitating and untiring particle of matter that + responds to every emotion of the soul; that leaps with joy, with terror, + or with anger. + </p> + <p> + He drew a long breath. He could see before him the bare chest of the man + expanding and collapsing under the wide-open jacket. He glanced aside, and + saw the bosom of the woman near him rise and fall in quick respirations + that moved slightly up and down her hand, which was pressed to her breast + with all the fingers spread out and a little curved, as if grasping + something too big for its span. And nearly a minute passed. One of those + minutes when the voice is silenced, while the thoughts flutter in the + head, like captive birds inside a cage, in rushes desperate, exhausting + and vain. + </p> + <p> + During that minute of silence Lingard’s anger kept rising, immense and + towering, such as a crested wave running over the troubled shallows of the + sands. Its roar filled his cars; a roar so powerful and distracting that, + it seemed to him, his head must burst directly with the expanding volume + of that sound. He looked at that man. That infamous figure upright on its + feet, still, rigid, with stony eyes, as if its rotten soul had departed + that moment and the carcass hadn’t had the time yet to topple over. For + the fraction of a second he had the illusion and the fear of the scoundrel + having died there before the enraged glance of his eyes. Willems’ eyelids + fluttered, and the unconscious and passing tremor in that stiffly erect + body exasperated Lingard like a fresh outrage. The fellow dared to stir! + Dared to wink, to breathe, to exist; here, right before his eyes! His grip + on the revolver relaxed gradually. As the transport of his rage increased, + so also his contempt for the instruments that pierce or stab, that + interpose themselves between the hand and the object of hate. He wanted + another kind of satisfaction. Naked hands, by heaven! No firearms. Hands + that could take him by the throat, beat down his defence, batter his face + into shapeless flesh; hands that could feel all the desperation of his + resistance and overpower it in the violent delight of a contact lingering + and furious, intimate and brutal. + </p> + <p> + He let go the revolver altogether, stood hesitating, then throwing his + hands out, strode forward—and everything passed from his sight. He + could not see the man, the woman, the earth, the sky—saw nothing, as + if in that one stride he had left the visible world behind to step into a + black and deserted space. He heard screams round him in that obscurity, + screams like the melancholy and pitiful cries of sea-birds that dwell on + the lonely reefs of great oceans. Then suddenly a face appeared within a + few inches of his own. His face. He felt something in his left hand. His + throat . . . Ah! the thing like a snake’s head that darts up and down . . + . He squeezed hard. He was back in the world. He could see the quick + beating of eyelids over a pair of eyes that were all whites, the grin of a + drawn-up lip, a row of teeth gleaming through the drooping hair of a + moustache . . . Strong white teeth. Knock them down his lying throat . . . + He drew back his right hand, the fist up to the shoulder, knuckles out. + From under his feet rose the screams of sea-birds. Thousands of them. + Something held his legs . . . What the devil . . . He delivered his blow + straight from the shoulder, felt the jar right up his arm, and realized + suddenly that he was striking something passive and unresisting. His heart + sank within him with disappointment, with rage, with mortification. He + pushed with his left arm, opening the hand with haste, as if he had just + perceived that he got hold by accident of something repulsive—and he + watched with stupefied eyes Willems tottering backwards in groping + strides, the white sleeve of his jacket across his face. He watched his + distance from that man increase, while he remained motionless, without + being able to account to himself for the fact that so much empty space had + come in between them. It should have been the other way. They ought to + have been very close, and . . . Ah! He wouldn’t fight, he wouldn’t resist, + he wouldn’t defend himself! A cur! Evidently a cur! . . . He was amazed + and aggrieved—profoundly, bitterly—with the immense and blank + desolation of a small child robbed of a toy. He shouted—unbelieving: + </p> + <p> + “Will you be a cheat to the end?” + </p> + <p> + He waited for some answer. He waited anxiously with an impatience that + seemed to lift him off his feet. He waited for some word, some sign; for + some threatening stir. Nothing! Only two unwinking eyes glittered intently + at him above the white sleeve. He saw the raised arm detach itself from + the face and sink along the body. A white clad arm, with a big stain on + the white sleeve. A red stain. There was a cut on the cheek. It bled. The + nose bled too. The blood ran down, made one moustache look like a dark rag + stuck over the lip, and went on in a wet streak down the clipped beard on + one side of the chin. A drop of blood hung on the end of some hairs that + were glued together; it hung for a while and took a leap down on the + ground. Many more followed, leaping one after another in close file. One + alighted on the breast and glided down instantly with devious vivacity, + like a small insect running away; it left a narrow dark track on the white + skin. He looked at it, looked at the tiny and active drops, looked at what + he had done, with obscure satisfaction, with anger, with regret. This + wasn’t much like an act of justice. He had a desire to go up nearer to the + man, to hear him speak, to hear him say something atrocious and wicked + that would justify the violence of the blow. He made an attempt to move, + and became aware of a close embrace round both his legs, just above the + ankles. Instinctively, he kicked out with his foot, broke through the + close bond and felt at once the clasp transferred to his other leg; the + clasp warm, desperate and soft, of human arms. He looked down bewildered. + He saw the body of the woman stretched at length, flattened on the ground + like a dark blue rag. She trailed face downwards, clinging to his leg with + both arms in a tenacious hug. He saw the top of her head, the long black + hair streaming over his foot, all over the beaten earth, around his boot. + He couldn’t see his foot for it. He heard the short and repeated moaning + of her breath. He imagined the invisible face close to his heel. With one + kick into that face he could free himself. He dared not stir, and shouted + down— + </p> + <p> + “Let go! Let go! Let go!” + </p> + <p> + The only result of his shouting was a tightening of the pressure of her + arms. With a tremendous effort he tried to bring his right foot up to his + left, and succeeded partly. He heard distinctly the rub of her body on the + ground as he jerked her along. He tried to disengage himself by drawing up + his foot. He stamped. He heard a voice saying sharply— + </p> + <p> + “Steady, Captain Lingard, steady!” + </p> + <p> + His eyes flew back to Willems at the sound of that voice, and, in the + quick awakening of sleeping memories, Lingard stood suddenly still, + appeased by the clear ring of familiar words. Appeased as in days of old, + when they were trading together, when Willems was his trusted and helpful + companion in out-of-the-way and dangerous places; when that fellow, who + could keep his temper so much better than he could himself, had spared him + many a difficulty, had saved him from many an act of hasty violence by the + timely and good-humoured warning, whispered or shouted, “Steady, Captain + Lingard, steady.” A smart fellow. He had brought him up. The smartest + fellow in the islands. If he had only stayed with him, then all this . . . + He called out to Willems— + </p> + <p> + “Tell her to let me go or . . .” + </p> + <p> + He heard Willems shouting something, waited for awhile, then glanced + vaguely down and saw the woman still stretched out perfectly mute and + unstirring, with her head at his feet. He felt a nervous impatience that, + somehow, resembled fear. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her to let go, to go away, Willems, I tell you. I’ve had enough of + this,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Captain Lingard,” answered the calm voice of Willems, “she has + let go. Take your foot off her hair; she can’t get up.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard leaped aside, clean away, and spun round quickly. He saw her sit + up and cover her face with both hands, then he turned slowly on his heel + and looked at the man. Willems held himself very straight, but was + unsteady on his feet, and moved about nearly on the same spot, like a + tipsy man attempting to preserve his balance. After gazing at him for a + while, Lingard called, rancorous and irritable— + </p> + <p> + “What have you got to say for yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Willems began to walk towards him. He walked slowly, reeling a little + before he took each step, and Lingard saw him put his hand to his face, + then look at it holding it up to his eyes, as if he had there, concealed + in the hollow of the palm, some small object which he wanted to examine + secretly. Suddenly he drew it, with a brusque movement, down the front of + his jacket and left a long smudge. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a fine thing to do,” said Willems. + </p> + <p> + He stood in front of Lingard, one of his eyes sunk deep in the increasing + swelling of his cheek, still repeating mechanically the movement of + feeling his damaged face; and every time he did this he pressed the palm + to some clean spot on his jacket, covering the white cotton with bloody + imprints as of some deformed and monstrous hand. Lingard said nothing, + looking on. At last Willems left off staunching the blood and stood, his + arms hanging by his side, with his face stiff and distorted under the + patches of coagulated blood; and he seemed as though he had been set up + there for a warning: an incomprehensible figure marked all over with some + awful and symbolic signs of deadly import. Speaking with difficulty, he + repeated in a reproachful tone— + </p> + <p> + “That was a fine thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “After all,” answered Lingard, bitterly, “I had too good an opinion of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I of you. Don’t you see that I could have had that fool over there + killed and the whole thing burnt to the ground, swept off the face of the + earth. You wouldn’t have found as much as a heap of ashes had I liked. I + could have done all that. And I wouldn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “You—could—not. You dared not. You scoundrel!” cried Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the use of calling me names?” + </p> + <p> + “True,” retorted Lingard—“there’s no name bad enough for you.” + </p> + <p> + There was a short interval of silence. At the sound of their rapidly + exchanged words, Aissa had got up from the ground where she had been + sitting, in a sorrowful and dejected pose, and approached the two men. She + stood on one side and looked on eagerly, in a desperate effort of her + brain, with the quick and distracted eyes of a person trying for her life + to penetrate the meaning of sentences uttered in a foreign tongue: the + meaning portentous and fateful that lurks in the sounds of mysterious + words; in the sounds surprising, unknown and strange. + </p> + <p> + Willems let the last speech of Lingard pass by; seemed by a slight + movement of his hand to help it on its way to join the other shadows of + the past. Then he said— + </p> + <p> + “You have struck me; you have insulted me . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Insulted you!” interrupted Lingard, passionately. “Who—what can + insult you . . . you . . .” + </p> + <p> + He choked, advanced a step. + </p> + <p> + “Steady! steady!” said Willems calmly. “I tell you I sha’n’t fight. Is it + clear enough to you that I sha’n’t? I—shall—not—lift—a—finger.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, slowly punctuating each word with a slight jerk of his head, + he stared at Lingard, his right eye open and big, the left small and + nearly closed by the swelling of one half of his face, that appeared all + drawn out on one side like faces seen in a concave glass. And they stood + exactly opposite each other: one tall, slight and disfigured; the other + tall, heavy and severe. + </p> + <p> + Willems went on— + </p> + <p> + “If I had wanted to hurt you—if I had wanted to destroy you, it was + easy. I stood in the doorway long enough to pull a trigger—and you + know I shoot straight.” + </p> + <p> + “You would have missed,” said Lingard, with assurance. “There is, under + heaven, such a thing as justice.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of that word on his own lips made him pause, confused, like an + unexpected and unanswerable rebuke. The anger of his outraged pride, the + anger of his outraged heart, had gone out in the blow; and there remained + nothing but the sense of some immense infamy—of something vague, + disgusting and terrible, which seemed to surround him on all sides, hover + about him with shadowy and stealthy movements, like a band of assassins in + the darkness of vast and unsafe places. Was there, under heaven, such a + thing as justice? He looked at the man before him with such an intensity + of prolonged glance that he seemed to see right through him, that at last + he saw but a floating and unsteady mist in human shape. Would it blow away + before the first breath of the breeze and leave nothing behind? + </p> + <p> + The sound of Willems’ voice made him start violently. Willems was saying— + </p> + <p> + “I have always led a virtuous life; you know I have. You always praised me + for my steadiness; you know you have. You know also I never stole—if + that’s what you’re thinking of. I borrowed. You know how much I repaid. It + was an error of judgment. But then consider my position there. I had been + a little unlucky in my private affairs, and had debts. Could I let myself + go under before the eyes of all those men who envied me? But that’s all + over. It was an error of judgment. I’ve paid for it. An error of + judgment.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard, astounded into perfect stillness, looked down. He looked down at + Willems’ bare feet. Then, as the other had paused, he repeated in a blank + tone— + </p> + <p> + “An error of judgment . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” drawled out Willems, thoughtfully, and went on with increasing + animation: “As I said, I have always led a virtuous life. More so than + Hudig—than you. Yes, than you. I drank a little, I played cards a + little. Who doesn’t? But I had principles from a boy. Yes, principles. + Business is business, and I never was an ass. I never respected fools. + They had to suffer for their folly when they dealt with me. The evil was + in them, not in me. But as to principles, it’s another matter. I kept + clear of women. It’s forbidden—I had no time—and I despised + them. Now I hate them!” + </p> + <p> + He put his tongue out a little; a tongue whose pink and moist end ran here + and there, like something independently alive, under his swollen and + blackened lip; he touched with the tips of his fingers the cut on his + cheek, felt all round it with precaution: and the unharmed side of his + face appeared for a moment to be preoccupied and uneasy about the state of + that other side which was so very sore and stiff. + </p> + <p> + He recommenced speaking, and his voice vibrated as though with repressed + emotion of some kind. + </p> + <p> + “You ask my wife, when you see her in Macassar, whether I have no reason + to hate her. She was nobody, and I made her Mrs. Willems. A half-caste + girl! You ask her how she showed her gratitude to me. You ask . . . Never + mind that. Well, you came and dumped me here like a load of rubbish; + dumped me here and left me with nothing to do—nothing good to + remember—and damn little to hope for. You left me here at the mercy + of that fool, Almayer, who suspected me of something. Of what? Devil only + knows. But he suspected and hated me from the first; I suppose because you + befriended me. Oh! I could read him like a book. He isn’t very deep, your + Sambir partner, Captain Lingard, but he knows how to be disagreeable. + Months passed. I thought I would die of sheer weariness, of my thoughts, + of my regrets And then . . .” + </p> + <p> + He made a quick step nearer to Lingard, and as if moved by the same + thought, by the same instinct, by the impulse of his will, Aissa also + stepped nearer to them. They stood in a close group, and the two men could + feel the calm air between their faces stirred by the light breath of the + anxious woman who enveloped them both in the uncomprehending, in the + despairing and wondering glances of her wild and mournful eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + Willems turned a little from her and spoke lower. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that,” he said, with an almost imperceptible movement of his head + towards the woman to whom he was presenting his shoulder. “Look at that! + Don’t believe her! What has she been saying to you? What? I have been + asleep. Had to sleep at last. I’ve been waiting for you three days and + nights. I had to sleep some time. Hadn’t I? I told her to remain awake and + watch for you, and call me at once. She did watch. You can’t believe her. + You can’t believe any woman. Who can tell what’s inside their heads? No + one. You can know nothing. The only thing you can know is that it isn’t + anything like what comes through their lips. They live by the side of you. + They seem to hate you, or they seem to love you; they caress or torment + you; they throw you over or stick to you closer than your skin for some + inscrutable and awful reason of their own—which you can never know! + Look at her—and look at me. At me!—her infernal work. What has + she been saying?” + </p> + <p> + His voice had sunk to a whisper. Lingard listened with great attention, + holding his chin in his hand, which grasped a great handful of his white + beard. His elbow was in the palm of his other hand, and his eyes were + still fixed on the ground. He murmured, without looking up— + </p> + <p> + “She begged me for your life—if you want to know—as if the + thing were worth giving or taking!” + </p> + <p> + “And for three days she begged me to take yours,” said Willems quickly. + “For three days she wouldn’t give me any peace. She was never still. She + planned ambushes. She has been looking for places all over here where I + could hide and drop you with a safe shot as you walked up. It’s true. I + give you my word.” + </p> + <p> + “Your word,” muttered Lingard, contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + Willems took no notice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! She is a ferocious creature,” he went on. “You don’t know . . . I + wanted to pass the time—to do something—to have something to + think about—to forget my troubles till you came back. And . . . look + at her . . . she took me as if I did not belong to myself. She did. I did + not know there was something in me she could get hold of. She, a savage. + I, a civilized European, and clever! She that knew no more than a wild + animal! Well, she found out something in me. She found it out, and I was + lost. I knew it. She tormented me. I was ready to do anything. I resisted—but + I was ready. I knew that too. That frightened me more than anything; more + than my own sufferings; and that was frightful enough, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + Lingard listened, fascinated and amazed like a child listening to a fairy + tale, and, when Willems stopped for breath, he shuffled his feet a little. + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” cried out Aissa, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The two men looked at her quickly, and then looked at one another. + </p> + <p> + Willems began again, speaking hurriedly— + </p> + <p> + “I tried to do something. Take her away from those people. I went to + Almayer; the biggest blind fool that you ever . . . Then Abdulla came—and + she went away. She took away with her something of me which I had to get + back. I had to do it. As far as you are concerned, the change here had to + happen sooner or later; you couldn’t be master here for ever. It isn’t + what I have done that torments me. It is the why. It’s the madness that + drove me to it. It’s that thing that came over me. That may come again, + some day.” + </p> + <p> + “It will do no harm to anybody then, I promise you,” said Lingard, + significantly. + </p> + <p> + Willems looked at him for a second with a blank stare, then went on— + </p> + <p> + “I fought against her. She goaded me to violence and to murder. Nobody + knows why. She pushed me to it persistently, desperately, all the time. + Fortunately Abdulla had sense. I don’t know what I wouldn’t have done. She + held me then. Held me like a nightmare that is terrible and sweet. By and + by it was another life. I woke up. I found myself beside an animal as full + of harm as a wild cat. You don’t know through what I have passed. Her + father tried to kill me—and she very nearly killed him. I believe + she would have stuck at nothing. I don’t know which was more terrible! She + would have stuck at nothing to defend her own. And when I think that it + was me—me—Willems . . . I hate her. To-morrow she may want my + life. How can I know what’s in her? She may want to kill me next!” + </p> + <p> + He paused in great trepidation, then added in a scared tone— + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to die here.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you?” said Lingard, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Willems turned towards Aissa and pointed at her with a bony forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “Look at her! Always there. Always near. Always watching, watching . . . + for something. Look at her eyes. Ain’t they big? Don’t they stare? You + wouldn’t think she can shut them like human beings do. I don’t believe she + ever does. I go to sleep, if I can, under their stare, and when I wake up + I see them fixed on me and moving no more than the eyes of a corpse. While + I am still they are still. By God—she can’t move them till I stir, + and then they follow me like a pair of jailers. They watch me; when I stop + they seem to wait patient and glistening till I am off my guard—for + to do something. To do something horrible. Look at them! You can see + nothing in them. They are big, menacing—and empty. The eyes of a + savage; of a damned mongrel, half-Arab, half-Malay. They hurt me! I am + white! I swear to you I can’t stand this! Take me away. I am white! All + white!” + </p> + <p> + He shouted towards the sombre heaven, proclaiming desperately under the + frown of thickening clouds the fact of his pure and superior descent. He + shouted, his head thrown up, his arms swinging about wildly; lean, ragged, + disfigured; a tall madman making a great disturbance about something + invisible; a being absurd, repulsive, pathetic, and droll. Lingard, who + was looking down as if absorbed in deep thought, gave him a quick glance + from under his eyebrows: Aissa stood with clasped hands. At the other end + of the courtyard the old woman, like a vague and decrepit apparition, rose + noiselessly to look, then sank down again with a stealthy movement and + crouched low over the small glow of the fire. Willems’ voice filled the + enclosure, rising louder with every word, and then, suddenly, at its very + loudest, stopped short—like water stops running from an over-turned + vessel. As soon as it had ceased the thunder seemed to take up the burden + in a low growl coming from the inland hills. The noise approached in + confused mutterings which kept on increasing, swelling into a roar that + came nearer, rushed down the river, passed close in a tearing crash—and + instantly sounded faint, dying away in monotonous and dull repetitions + amongst the endless sinuosities of the lower reaches. Over the great + forests, over all the innumerable people of unstirring trees—over + all that living people immense, motionless, and mute—the silence, + that had rushed in on the track of the passing tumult, remained suspended + as deep and complete as if it had never been disturbed from the beginning + of remote ages. Then, through it, after a time, came to Lingard’s ears the + voice of the running river: a voice low, discreet, and sad, like the + persistent and gentle voices that speak of the past in the silence of + dreams. + </p> + <p> + He felt a great emptiness in his heart. It seemed to him that there was + within his breast a great space without any light, where his thoughts + wandered forlornly, unable to escape, unable to rest, unable to die, to + vanish—and to relieve him from the fearful oppression of their + existence. Speech, action, anger, forgiveness, all appeared to him alike + useless and vain, appeared to him unsatisfactory, not worth the effort of + hand or brain that was needed to give them effect. He could not see why he + should not remain standing there, without ever doing anything, to the end + of time. He felt something, something like a heavy chain, that held him + there. This wouldn’t do. He backed away a little from Willems and Aissa, + leaving them close together, then stopped and looked at both. The man and + the woman appeared to him much further than they really were. He had made + only about three steps backward, but he believed for a moment that another + step would take him out of earshot for ever. They appeared to him slightly + under life size, and with a great cleanness of outlines, like figures + carved with great precision of detail and highly finished by a skilful + hand. He pulled himself together. The strong consciousness of his own + personality came back to him. He had a notion of surveying them from a + great and inaccessible height. + </p> + <p> + He said slowly: “You have been possessed of a devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Willems gloomily, and looking at Aissa. “Isn’t it pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve heard this kind of talk before,” said Lingard, in a scornful tone; + then paused, and went on steadily after a while: “I regret nothing. I + picked you up by the waterside, like a starving cat—by God. I regret + nothing; nothing that I have done. Abdulla—twenty others—no + doubt Hudig himself, were after me. That’s business—for them. But + that you should . . . Money belongs to him who picks it up and is strong + enough to keep it—but this thing was different. It was part of my + life. . . . I am an old fool.” + </p> + <p> + He was. The breath of his words, of the very words he spoke, fanned the + spark of divine folly in his breast, the spark that made him—the + hard-headed, heavy-handed adventurer—stand out from the crowd, from + the sordid, from the joyous, unscrupulous, and noisy crowd of men that + were so much like himself. + </p> + <p> + Willems said hurriedly: “It wasn’t me. The evil was not in me, Captain + Lingard.” + </p> + <p> + “And where else confound you! Where else?” interrupted Lingard, raising + his voice. “Did you ever see me cheat and lie and steal? Tell me that. Did + you? Hey? I wonder where in perdition you came from when I found you under + my feet. . . . No matter. You will do no more harm.” + </p> + <p> + Willems moved nearer, gazing upon him anxiously. Lingard went on with + distinct deliberation— + </p> + <p> + “What did you expect when you asked me to see you? What? You know me. I am + Lingard. You lived with me. You’ve heard men speak. You knew what you had + done. Well! What did you expect?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I know?” groaned Willems, wringing his hands; “I was alone in + that infernal savage crowd. I was delivered into their hands. After the + thing was done, I felt so lost and weak that I would have called the devil + himself to my aid if it had been any good—if he hadn’t put in all + his work already. In the whole world there was only one man that had ever + cared for me. Only one white man. You! Hate is better than being alone! + Death is better! I expected . . . anything. Something to expect. Something + to take me out of this. Out of her sight!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. His laugh seemed to be torn out from him against his will, + seemed to be brought violently on the surface from under his bitterness, + his self-contempt, from under his despairing wonder at his own nature. + </p> + <p> + “When I think that when I first knew her it seemed to me that my whole + life wouldn’t be enough to . . . And now when I look at her! She did it + all. I must have been mad. I was mad. Every time I look at her I remember + my madness. It frightens me. . . . And when I think that of all my life, + of all my past, of all my future, of my intelligence, of my work, there is + nothing left but she, the cause of my ruin, and you whom I have mortally + offended . . .” + </p> + <p> + He hid his face for a moment in his hands, and when he took them away he + had lost the appearance of comparative calm and gave way to a wild + distress. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lingard . . . anything . . . a deserted island . . . anywhere . . + . I promise . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” shouted Lingard, roughly. + </p> + <p> + He became dumb, suddenly, completely. + </p> + <p> + The wan light of the clouded morning retired slowly from the courtyard, + from the clearings, from the river, as if it had gone unwillingly to hide + in the enigmatical solitudes of the gloomy and silent forests. The clouds + over their heads thickened into a low vault of uniform blackness. The air + was still and inexpressibly oppressive. Lingard unbuttoned his jacket, + flung it wide open and, inclining his body sideways a little, wiped his + forehead with his hand, which he jerked sharply afterwards. Then he looked + at Willems and said— + </p> + <p> + “No promise of yours is any good to me. I am going to take your conduct + into my own hands. Pay attention to what I am going to say. You are my + prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + Willems’ head moved imperceptibly; then he became rigid and still. He + seemed not to breathe. + </p> + <p> + “You shall stay here,” continued Lingard, with sombre deliberation. “You + are not fit to go amongst people. Who could suspect, who could guess, who + could imagine what’s in you? I couldn’t! You are my mistake. I shall hide + you here. If I let you out you would go amongst unsuspecting men, and lie, + and steal, and cheat for a little money or for some woman. I don’t care + about shooting you. It would be the safest way though. But I won’t. Do not + expect me to forgive you. To forgive one must have been angry and become + contemptuous, and there is nothing in me now—no anger, no contempt, + no disappointment. To me you are not Willems, the man I befriended and + helped through thick and thin, and thought much of . . . You are not a + human being that may be destroyed or forgiven. You are a bitter thought, a + something without a body and that must be hidden . . . You are my shame.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased and looked slowly round. How dark it was! It seemed to him that + the light was dying prematurely out of the world and that the air was + already dead. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he went on, “I shall see to it that you don’t starve.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say that I must live here, Captain Lingard?” said + Willems, in a kind of mechanical voice without any inflections. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear me say something I did not mean?” asked Lingard. “You + said you didn’t want to die here—well, you must live . . . Unless + you change your mind,” he added, as if in involuntary afterthought. + </p> + <p> + He looked at Willems narrowly, then shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “You are alone,” he went on. “Nothing can help you. Nobody will. You are + neither white nor brown. You have no colour as you have no heart. Your + accomplices have abandoned you to me because I am still somebody to be + reckoned with. You are alone but for that woman there. You say you did + this for her. Well, you have her.” + </p> + <p> + Willems mumbled something, and then suddenly caught his hair with both his + hands and remained standing so. Aissa, who had been looking at him, turned + to Lingard. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say, Rajah Laut?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + There was a slight stir amongst the filmy threads of her disordered hair, + the bushes by the river sides trembled, the big tree nodded precipitately + over them with an abrupt rustle, as if waking with a start from a troubled + sleep—and the breath of hot breeze passed, light, rapid, and + scorching, under the clouds that whirled round, unbroken but undulating, + like a restless phantom of a sombre sea. + </p> + <p> + Lingard looked at her pityingly before he said— + </p> + <p> + “I have told him that he must live here all his life . . . and with you.” + </p> + <p> + The sun seemed to have gone out at last like a flickering light away up + beyond the clouds, and in the stifling gloom of the courtyard the three + figures stood colourless and shadowy, as if surrounded by a black and + superheated mist. Aissa looked at Willems, who remained still, as though + he had been changed into stone in the very act of tearing his hair. Then + she turned her head towards Lingard and shouted— + </p> + <p> + “You lie! You lie! . . . White man. Like you all do. You . . . whom + Abdulla made small. You lie!” + </p> + <p> + Her words rang out shrill and venomous with her secret scorn, with her + overpowering desire to wound regardless of consequences; in her woman’s + reckless desire to cause suffering at any cost, to cause it by the sound + of her own voice—by her own voice, that would carry the poison of + her thought into the hated heart. + </p> + <p> + Willems let his hands fall, and began to mumble again. Lingard turned his + ear towards him instinctively, caught something that sounded like “Very + well”—then some more mumbling—then a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “As far as the rest of the world is concerned,” said Lingard, after + waiting for awhile in an attentive attitude, “your life is finished. + Nobody will be able to throw any of your villainies in my teeth; nobody + will be able to point at you and say, ‘Here goes a scoundrel of Lingard’s + up-bringing.’ You are buried here.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think that I will stay . . . that I will submit?” exclaimed + Willems, as if he had suddenly recovered the power of speech. + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t stay here—on this spot,” said Lingard, drily. “There + are the forests—and here is the river. You may swim. Fifteen miles + up, or forty down. At one end you will meet Almayer, at the other the sea. + Take your choice.” + </p> + <p> + He burst into a short, joyless laugh, then added with severe gravity— + </p> + <p> + “There is also another way.” + </p> + <p> + “If you want to drive my soul into damnation by trying to drive me to + suicide you will not succeed,” said Willems in wild excitement. “I will + live. I shall repent. I may escape. . . . Take that woman away—she + is sin.” + </p> + <p> + A hooked dart of fire tore in two the darkness of the distant horizon and + lit up the gloom of the earth with a dazzling and ghastly flame. Then the + thunder was heard far away, like an incredibly enormous voice muttering + menaces. + </p> + <p> + Lingard said— + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care what happens, but I may tell you that without that woman + your life is not worth much—not twopence. There is a fellow here who + . . . and Abdulla himself wouldn’t stand on any ceremony. Think of that! + And then she won’t go.” + </p> + <p> + He began, even while he spoke, to walk slowly down towards the little + gate. He didn’t look, but he felt as sure that Willems was following him + as if he had been leading him by a string. Directly he had passed through + the wicket-gate into the big courtyard he heard a voice, behind his back, + saying— + </p> + <p> + “I think she was right. I ought to have shot you. I couldn’t have been + worse off.” + </p> + <p> + “Time yet,” answered Lingard, without stopping or looking back. “But, you + see, you can’t. There is not even that in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t provoke me, Captain Lingard,” cried Willems. + </p> + <p> + Lingard turned round sharply. Willems and Aissa stopped. Another forked + flash of lightning split up the clouds overhead, and threw upon their + faces a sudden burst of light—a blaze violent, sinister and + fleeting; and in the same instant they were deafened by a near, single + crash of thunder, which was followed by a rushing noise, like a frightened + sigh of the startled earth. + </p> + <p> + “Provoke you!” said the old adventurer, as soon as he could make himself + heard. “Provoke you! Hey! What’s there in you to provoke? What do I care?” + </p> + <p> + “It is easy to speak like that when you know that in the whole world—in + the whole world—I have no friend,” said Willems. + </p> + <p> + “Whose fault?” said Lingard, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Their voices, after the deep and tremendous noise, sounded to them very + unsatisfactory—thin and frail, like the voices of pigmies—and + they became suddenly silent, as if on that account. From up the courtyard + Lingard’s boatmen came down and passed them, keeping step in a single + file, their paddles on shoulder, and holding their heads straight with + their eyes fixed on the river. Ali, who was walking last, stopped before + Lingard, very stiff and upright. He said— + </p> + <p> + “That one-eyed Babalatchi is gone, with all his women. He took everything. + All the pots and boxes. Big. Heavy. Three boxes.” + </p> + <p> + He grinned as if the thing had been amusing, then added with an appearance + of anxious concern, “Rain coming.” + </p> + <p> + “We return,” said Lingard. “Make ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir!” ejaculated Ali with precision, and moved on. He had been + quartermaster with Lingard before making up his mind to stay in Sambir as + Almayer’s head man. He strutted towards the landing-place thinking proudly + that he was not like those other ignorant boatmen, and knew how to answer + properly the very greatest of white captains. + </p> + <p> + “You have misunderstood me from the first, Captain Lingard,” said Willems. + </p> + <p> + “Have I? It’s all right, as long as there is no mistake about my meaning,” + answered Lingard, strolling slowly to the landing-place. Willems followed + him, and Aissa followed Willems. + </p> + <p> + Two hands were extended to help Lingard in embarking. He stepped + cautiously and heavily into the long and narrow canoe, and sat in the + canvas folding-chair that had been placed in the middle. He leaned back + and turned his head to the two figures that stood on the bank a little + above him. Aissa’s eyes were fastened on his face in a visible impatience + to see him gone. Willems’ look went straight above the canoe, straight at + the forest on the other side of the river. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Ali,” said Lingard, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + A slight stir animated the faces, and a faint murmur ran along the line of + paddlers. The foremost man pushed with the point of his paddle, canted the + fore end out of the dead water into the current; and the canoe fell + rapidly off before the rush of brown water, the stern rubbing gently + against the low bank. + </p> + <p> + “We shall meet again, Captain Lingard!” cried Willems, in an unsteady + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” said Lingard, turning half round in his chair to look at Willems. + His fierce red eyes glittered remorselessly over the high back of his + seat. + </p> + <p> + “Must cross the river. Water less quick over there,” said Ali. + </p> + <p> + He pushed in his turn now with all his strength, throwing his body + recklessly right out over the stern. Then he recovered himself just in + time into the squatting attitude of a monkey perched on a high shelf, and + shouted: “Dayong!” + </p> + <p> + The paddles struck the water together. The canoe darted forward and went + on steadily crossing the river with a sideways motion made up of its own + speed and the downward drift of the current. + </p> + <p> + Lingard watched the shore astern. The woman shook her hand at him, and + then squatted at the feet of the man who stood motionless. After a while + she got up and stood beside him, reaching up to his head—and Lingard + saw then that she had wetted some part of her covering and was trying to + wash the dried blood off the man’s immovable face, which did not seem to + know anything about it. Lingard turned away and threw himself back in his + chair, stretching his legs out with a sigh of fatigue. His head fell + forward; and under his red face the white beard lay fan-like on his + breast, the ends of fine long hairs all astir in the faint draught made by + the rapid motion of the craft that carried him away from his prisoner—from + the only thing in his life he wished to hide. + </p> + <p> + In its course across the river the canoe came into the line of Willems’ + sight and his eyes caught the image, followed it eagerly as it glided, + small but distinct, on the dark background of the forest. He could see + plainly the figure of the man sitting in the middle. All his life he had + felt that man behind his back, a reassuring presence ready with help, with + commendation, with advice; friendly in reproof, enthusiastic in + approbation; a man inspiring confidence by his strength, by his + fearlessness, by the very weakness of his simple heart. And now that man + was going away. He must call him back. + </p> + <p> + He shouted, and his words, which he wanted to throw across the river, + seemed to fall helplessly at his feet. Aissa put her hand on his arm in a + restraining attempt, but he shook it off. He wanted to call back his very + life that was going away from him. He shouted again—and this time he + did not even hear himself. No use. He would never return. And he stood in + sullen silence looking at the white figure over there, lying back in the + chair in the middle of the boat; a figure that struck him suddenly as very + terrible, heartless and astonishing, with its unnatural appearance of + running over the water in an attitude of languid repose. + </p> + <p> + For a time nothing on earth stirred, seemingly, but the canoe, which + glided up-stream with a motion so even and smooth that it did not convey + any sense of movement. Overhead, the massed clouds appeared solid and + steady as if held there in a powerful grip, but on their uneven surface + there was a continuous and trembling glimmer, a faint reflection of the + distant lightning from the thunderstorm that had broken already on the + coast and was working its way up the river with low and angry growls. + Willems looked on, as motionless as everything round him and above him. + Only his eyes seemed to live, as they followed the canoe on its course + that carried it away from him, steadily, unhesitatingly, finally, as if it + were going, not up the great river into the momentous excitement of + Sambir, but straight into the past, into the past crowded yet empty, like + an old cemetery full of neglected graves, where lie dead hopes that never + return. + </p> + <p> + From time to time he felt on his face the passing, warm touch of an + immense breath coming from beyond the forest, like the short panting of an + oppressed world. Then the heavy air round him was pierced by a sharp gust + of wind, bringing with it the fresh, damp feel of the falling rain; and + all the innumerable tree-tops of the forests swayed to the left and sprang + back again in a tumultuous balancing of nodding branches and shuddering + leaves. A light frown ran over the river, the clouds stirred slowly, + changing their aspect but not their place, as if they had turned + ponderously over; and when the sudden movement had died out in a quickened + tremor of the slenderest twigs, there was a short period of formidable + immobility above and below, during which the voice of the thunder was + heard, speaking in a sustained, emphatic and vibrating roll, with violent + louder bursts of crashing sound, like a wrathful and threatening discourse + of an angry god. For a moment it died out, and then another gust of wind + passed, driving before it a white mist which filled the space with a cloud + of waterdust that hid suddenly from Willems the canoe, the forests, the + river itself; that woke him up from his numbness in a forlorn shiver, that + made him look round despairingly to see nothing but the whirling drift of + rain spray before the freshening breeze, while through it the heavy big + drops fell about him with sonorous and rapid beats upon the dry earth. He + made a few hurried steps up the courtyard and was arrested by an immense + sheet of water that fell all at once on him, fell sudden and overwhelming + from the clouds, cutting his respiration, streaming over his head, + clinging to him, running down his body, off his arms, off his legs. He + stood gasping while the water beat him in a vertical downpour, drove on + him slanting in squalls, and he felt the drops striking him from above, + from everywhere; drops thick, pressed and dashing at him as if flung from + all sides by a mob of infuriated hands. From under his feet a great vapour + of broken water floated up, he felt the ground become soft—melt + under him—and saw the water spring out from the dry earth to meet + the water that fell from the sombre heaven. An insane dread took + possession of him, the dread of all that water around him, of the water + that ran down the courtyard towards him, of the water that pressed him on + every side, of the slanting water that drove across his face in wavering + sheets which gleamed pale red with the flicker of lightning streaming + through them, as if fire and water were falling together, monstrously + mixed, upon the stunned earth. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to run away, but when he moved it was to slide about painfully + and slowly upon that earth which had become mud so suddenly under his + feet. He fought his way up the courtyard like a man pushing through a + crowd, his head down, one shoulder forward, stopping often, and sometimes + carried back a pace or two in the rush of water which his heart was not + stout enough to face. Aissa followed him step by step, stopping when he + stopped, recoiling with him, moving forward with him in his toilsome way + up the slippery declivity of the courtyard, of that courtyard, from which + everything seemed to have been swept away by the first rush of the mighty + downpour. They could see nothing. The tree, the bushes, the house, and the + fences—all had disappeared in the thickness of the falling rain. + Their hair stuck, streaming, to their heads; their clothing clung to them, + beaten close to their bodies; water ran off them, off their heads over + their shoulders. They moved, patient, upright, slow and dark, in the gleam + clear or fiery of the falling drops, under the roll of unceasing thunder, + like two wandering ghosts of the drowned that, condemned to haunt the + water for ever, had come up from the river to look at the world under a + deluge. + </p> + <p> + On the left the tree seemed to step out to meet them, appearing vaguely, + high, motionless and patient; with a rustling plaint of its innumerable + leaves through which every drop of water tore its separate way with cruel + haste. And then, to the right, the house surged up in the mist, very + black, and clamorous with the quick patter of rain on its high-pitched + roof above the steady splash of the water running off the eaves. Down the + plankway leading to the door flowed a thin and pellucid stream, and when + Willems began his ascent it broke over his foot as if he were going up a + steep ravine in the bed of a rapid and shallow torrent. Behind his heels + two streaming smudges of mud stained for an instant the purity of the + rushing water, and then he splashed his way up with a spurt and stood on + the bamboo platform before the open door under the shelter of the + overhanging eaves—under shelter at last! + </p> + <p> + A low moan ending in a broken and plaintive mutter arrested Willems on the + threshold. He peered round in the half-light under the roof and saw the + old woman crouching close to the wall in a shapeless heap, and while he + looked he felt a touch of two arms on his shoulders. Aissa! He had + forgotten her. He turned, and she clasped him round the neck instantly, + pressing close to him as if afraid of violence or escape. He stiffened + himself in repulsion, in horror, in the mysterious revolt of his heart; + while she clung to him—clung to him as if he were a refuge from + misery, from storm, from weariness, from fear, from despair; and it was on + the part of that being an embrace terrible, enraged and mournful, in which + all her strength went out to make him captive, to hold him for ever. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing. He looked into her eyes while he struggled with her + fingers about the nape of his neck, and suddenly he tore her hands apart, + holding her arms up in a strong grip of her wrists, and bending his + swollen face close over hers, he said— + </p> + <p> + “It is all your doing. You . . .” + </p> + <p> + She did not understand him—not a word. He spoke in the language of + his people—of his people that know no mercy and no shame. And he was + angry. Alas! he was always angry now, and always speaking words that she + could not understand. She stood in silence, looking at him through her + patient eyes, while he shook her arms a little and then flung them down. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t follow me!” he shouted. “I want to be alone—I mean to be left + alone!” + </p> + <p> + He went in, leaving the door open. + </p> + <p> + She did not move. What need to understand the words when they are spoken + in such a voice? In that voice which did not seem to be his voice—his + voice when he spoke by the brook, when he was never angry and always + smiling! Her eyes were fixed upon the dark doorway, but her hands strayed + mechanically upwards; she took up all her hair, and, inclining her head + slightly over her shoulder, wrung out the long black tresses, twisting + them persistently, while she stood, sad and absorbed, like one listening + to an inward voice—the voice of bitter, of unavailing regret. The + thunder had ceased, the wind had died out, and the rain fell perpendicular + and steady through a great pale clearness—the light of remote sun + coming victorious from amongst the dissolving blackness of the clouds. She + stood near the doorway. He was there—alone in the gloom of the + dwelling. He was there. He spoke not. What was in his mind now? What fear? + What desire? Not the desire of her as in the days when he used to smile . + . . How could she know? . . . + </p> + <p> + A sigh coming from the bottom of her heart, flew out into the world + through her parted lips. A sigh faint, profound, and broken; a sigh full + of pain and fear, like the sigh of those who are about to face the + unknown: to face it in loneliness, in doubt, and without hope. She let go + her hair, that fell scattered over her shoulders like a funeral veil, and + she sank down suddenly by the door. Her hands clasped her ankles; she + rested her head on her drawn-up knees, and remained still, very still, + under the streaming mourning of her hair. She was thinking of him; of the + days by the brook; she was thinking of all that had been their love—and + she sat in the abandoned posture of those who sit weeping by the dead, of + those who watch and mourn over a corpse. + </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 + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + Almayer propped, alone on the verandah of his house, with both his elbows + on the table, and holding his head between his hands, stared before him, + away over the stretch of sprouting young grass in his courtyard, and over + the short jetty with its cluster of small canoes, amongst which his big + whale-boat floated high, like a white mother of all that dark and aquatic + brood. He stared on the river, past the schooner anchored in mid-stream, + past the forests of the left bank; he stared through and past the illusion + of the material world. + </p> + <p> + The sun was sinking. Under the sky was stretched a network of white + threads, a network fine and close-meshed, where here and there were caught + thicker white vapours of globular shape; and to the eastward, above the + ragged barrier of the forests, surged the summits of a chain of great + clouds, growing bigger slowly, in imperceptible motion, as if careful not + to disturb the glowing stillness of the earth and of the sky. Abreast of + the house the river was empty but for the motionless schooner. Higher up, + a solitary log came out from the bend above and went on drifting slowly + down the straight reach: a dead and wandering tree going out to its grave + in the sea, between two ranks of trees motionless and living. + </p> + <p> + And Almayer sat, his face in his hands, looking on and hating all this: + the muddy river; the faded blue of the sky; the black log passing by on + its first and last voyage; the green sea of leaves—the sea that + glowed shimmered, and stirred above the uniform and impenetrable gloom of + the forests—the joyous sea of living green powdered with the + brilliant dust of oblique sunrays. + </p> + <p> + He hated all this; he begrudged every day—every minute—of his + life spent amongst all these things; he begrudged it bitterly, angrily, + with enraged and immense regret, like a miser compelled to give up some of + his treasure to a near relation. And yet all this was very precious to + him. It was the present sign of a splendid future. + </p> + <p> + He pushed the table away impatiently, got up, made a few steps aimlessly, + then stood by the balustrade and again looked at the river—at that + river which would have been the instrument for the making of his fortune + if . . . if . . . + </p> + <p> + “What an abominable brute!” he said. + </p> + <p> + He was alone, but he spoke aloud, as one is apt to do under the impulse of + a strong, of an overmastering thought. + </p> + <p> + “What a brute!” he muttered again. + </p> + <p> + The river was dark now, and the schooner lay on it, a black, a lonely, and + a graceful form, with the slender masts darting upwards from it in two + frail and raking lines. The shadows of the evening crept up the trees, + crept up from bough to bough, till at last the long sunbeams coursing from + the western horizon skimmed lightly over the topmost branches, then flew + upwards amongst the piled-up clouds, giving them a sombre and fiery aspect + in the last flush of light. And suddenly the light disappeared as if lost + in the immensity of the great, blue, and empty hollow overhead. The sun + had set: and the forests became a straight wall of formless blackness. + Above them, on the edge of lingering clouds, a single star glimmered + fitfully, obscured now and then by the rapid flight of high and invisible + vapours. + </p> + <p> + Almayer fought with the uneasiness within his breast. He heard Ali, who + moved behind him preparing his evening meal, and he listened with strange + attention to the sounds the man made—to the short, dry bang of the + plate put upon the table, to the clink of glass and the metallic rattle of + knife and fork. The man went away. Now he was coming back. He would speak + directly; and Almayer, notwithstanding the absorbing gravity of his + thoughts, listened for the sound of expected words. He heard them, spoken + in English with painstaking distinctness. + </p> + <p> + “Ready, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Almayer, curtly. He did not move. He remained pensive, + with his back to the table upon which stood the lighted lamp brought by + Ali. He was thinking: “Where was Lingard now? Halfway down the river + probably, in Abdulla’s ship. He would be back in about three days—perhaps + less. And then? Then the schooner would have to be got out of the river, + and when that craft was gone they—he and Lingard—would remain + here; alone with the constant thought of that other man, that other man + living near them! What an extraordinary idea to keep him there for ever. + For ever! What did that mean—for ever? Perhaps a year, perhaps ten + years. Preposterous! Keep him there ten years—or may be twenty! The + fellow was capable of living more than twenty years. And for all that time + he would have to be watched, fed, looked after. There was nobody but + Lingard to have such notions. Twenty years! Why, no! In less than ten + years their fortune would be made and they would leave this place, first + for Batavia—yes, Batavia—and then for Europe. England, no + doubt. Lingard would want to go to England. And would they leave that man + here? How would that fellow look in ten years? Very old probably. Well, + devil take him. Nina would be fifteen. She would be rich and very pretty + and he himself would not be so old then. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Almayer smiled into the night. + </p> + <p> + . . . Yes, rich! Why! Of course! Captain Lingard was a resourceful man, + and he had plenty of money even now. They were rich already; but not + enough. Decidedly not enough. Money brings money. That gold business was + good. Famous! Captain Lingard was a remarkable man. He said the gold was + there—and it was there. Lingard knew what he was talking about. But + he had queer ideas. For instance, about Willems. Now what did he want to + keep him alive for? Why? + </p> + <p> + “That scoundrel,” muttered Almayer again. + </p> + <p> + “Makan Tuan!” ejaculated Ali suddenly, very loud in a pressing tone. + </p> + <p> + Almayer walked to the table, sat down, and his anxious visage dropped from + above into the light thrown down by the lamp-shade. He helped himself + absently, and began to eat in great mouthfuls. + </p> + <p> + . . . Undoubtedly, Lingard was the man to stick to! The man undismayed, + masterful and ready. How quickly he had planned a new future when Willems’ + treachery destroyed their established position in Sambir! And the position + even now was not so bad. What an immense prestige that Lingard had with + all those people—Arabs, Malays and all. Ah, it was good to be able + to call a man like that father. Fine! Wonder how much money really the old + fellow had. People talked—they exaggerated surely, but if he had + only half of what they said . . . + </p> + <p> + He drank, throwing his head up, and fell to again. + </p> + <p> + . . . Now, if that Willems had known how to play his cards well, had he + stuck to the old fellow he would have been in his position, he would be + now married to Lingard’s adopted daughter with his future assured—splendid + . . . + </p> + <p> + “The beast!” growled Almayer, between two mouthfuls. + </p> + <p> + Ali stood rigidly straight with an uninterested face, his gaze lost in the + night which pressed round the small circle of light that shone on the + table, on the glass, on the bottle, and on Almayer’s head as he leaned + over his plate moving his jaws. + </p> + <p> + . . . A famous man Lingard—yet you never knew what he would do next. + It was notorious that he had shot a white man once for less than Willems + had done. For less? . . . Why, for nothing, so to speak! It was not even + his own quarrel. It was about some Malay returning from pilgrimage with + wife and children. Kidnapped, or robbed, or something. A stupid story—an + old story. And now he goes to see that Willems and—nothing. Comes + back talking big about his prisoner; but after all he said very little. + What did that Willems tell him? What passed between them? The old fellow + must have had something in his mind when he let that scoundrel off. And + Joanna! She would get round the old fellow. Sure. Then he would forgive + perhaps. Impossible. But at any rate he would waste a lot of money on + them. The old man was tenacious in his hates, but also in his affections. + He had known that beast Willems from a boy. They would make it up in a + year or so. Everything is possible: why did he not rush off at first and + kill the brute? That would have been more like Lingard. . . . + </p> + <p> + Almayer laid down his spoon suddenly, and pushing his plate away, threw + himself back in the chair. + </p> + <p> + . . . Unsafe. Decidedly unsafe. He had no mind to share Lingard’s money + with anybody. Lingard’s money was Nina’s money in a sense. And if Willems + managed to become friendly with the old man it would be dangerous for him—Almayer. + Such an unscrupulous scoundrel! He would oust him from his position. He + would lie and slander. Everything would be lost. Lost. Poor Nina. What + would become of her? Poor child. For her sake he must remove that Willems. + Must. But how? Lingard wanted to be obeyed. Impossible to kill Willems. + Lingard might be angry. Incredible, but so it was. He might . . . + </p> + <p> + A wave of heat passed through Almayer’s body, flushed his face, and broke + out of him in copious perspiration. He wriggled in his chair, and pressed + his hands together under the table. What an awful prospect! He fancied he + could see Lingard and Willems reconciled and going away arm-in-arm, + leaving him alone in this God-forsaken hole—in Sambir—in this + deadly swamp! And all his sacrifices, the sacrifice of his independence, + of his best years, his surrender to Lingard’s fancies and caprices, would + go for nothing! Horrible! Then he thought of his little daughter—his + daughter!—and the ghastliness of his supposition overpowered him. He + had a deep emotion, a sudden emotion that made him feel quite faint at the + idea of that young life spoiled before it had fairly begun. His dear + child’s life! Lying back in his chair he covered his face with both his + hands. + </p> + <p> + Ali glanced down at him and said, unconcernedly—“Master finish?” + </p> + <p> + Almayer was lost in the immensity of his commiseration for himself, for + his daughter, who was—perhaps—not going to be the richest + woman in the world—notwithstanding Lingard’s promises. He did not + understand the other’s question, and muttered through his fingers in a + doleful tone— + </p> + <p> + “What did you say? What? Finish what?” + </p> + <p> + “Clear up meza,” explained Ali. + </p> + <p> + “Clear up!” burst out Almayer, with incomprehensible exasperation. “Devil + take you and the table. Stupid! Chatterer! Chelakka! Get out!” + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward, glaring at his head man, then sank back in his seat + with his arms hanging straight down on each side of the chair. And he sat + motionless in a meditation so concentrated and so absorbing, with all his + power of thought so deep within himself, that all expression disappeared + from his face in an aspect of staring vacancy. + </p> + <p> + Ali was clearing the table. He dropped negligently the tumbler into the + greasy dish, flung there the spoon and fork, then slipped in the plate + with a push amongst the remnants of food. He took up the dish, tucked up + the bottle under his armpit, and went off. + </p> + <p> + “My hammock!” shouted Almayer after him. + </p> + <p> + “Ada! I come soon,” answered Ali from the doorway in an offended tone, + looking back over his shoulder. . . . How could he clear the table and + hang the hammock at the same time. Ya-wa! Those white men were all alike. + Wanted everything done at once. Like children . . . + </p> + <p> + The indistinct murmur of his criticism went away, faded and died out + together with the soft footfall of his bare feet in the dark passage. + </p> + <p> + For some time Almayer did not move. His thoughts were busy at work shaping + a momentous resolution, and in the perfect silence of the house he + believed that he could hear the noise of the operation as if the work had + been done with a hammer. He certainly felt a thumping of strokes, faint, + profound, and startling, somewhere low down in his breast; and he was + aware of a sound of dull knocking, abrupt and rapid, in his ears. Now and + then he held his breath, unconsciously, too long, and had to relieve + himself by a deep expiration that whistled dully through his pursed lips. + The lamp standing on the far side of the table threw a section of a + lighted circle on the floor, where his out-stretched legs stuck out from + under the table with feet rigid and turned up like the feet of a corpse; + and his set face with fixed eyes would have been also like the face of the + dead, but for its vacant yet conscious aspect; the hard, the stupid, the + stony aspect of one not dead, but only buried under the dust, ashes, and + corruption of personal thoughts, of base fears, of selfish desires. + </p> + <p> + “I will do it!” + </p> + <p> + Not till he heard his own voice did he know that he had spoken. It + startled him. He stood up. The knuckles of his hand, somewhat behind him, + were resting on the edge of the table as he remained still with one foot + advanced, his lips a little open, and thought: It would not do to fool + about with Lingard. But I must risk it. It’s the only way I can see. I + must tell her. She has some little sense. I wish they were a thousand + miles off already. A hundred thousand miles. I do. And if it fails. And + she blabs out then to Lingard? She seemed a fool. No; probably they will + get away. And if they did, would Lingard believe me? Yes. I never lied to + him. He would believe. I don’t know . . . Perhaps he won’t. . . . “I must + do it. Must!” he argued aloud to himself. + </p> + <p> + For a long time he stood still, looking before him with an intense gaze, a + gaze rapt and immobile, that seemed to watch the minute quivering of a + delicate balance, coming to a rest. + </p> + <p> + To the left of him, in the whitewashed wall of the house that formed the + back of the verandah, there was a closed door. Black letters were painted + on it proclaiming the fact that behind that door there was the office of + Lingard & Co. The interior had been furnished by Lingard when he had + built the house for his adopted daughter and her husband, and it had been + furnished with reckless prodigality. There was an office desk, a revolving + chair, bookshelves, a safe: all to humour the weakness of Almayer, who + thought all those paraphernalia necessary to successful trading. Lingard + had laughed, but had taken immense trouble to get the things. It pleased + him to make his protege, his adopted son-in-law, happy. It had been the + sensation of Sambir some five years ago. While the things were being + landed, the whole settlement literally lived on the river bank in front of + the Rajah Laut’s house, to look, to wonder, to admire. . . . What a big + meza, with many boxes fitted all over it and under it! What did the white + man do with such a table? And look, look, O Brothers! There is a green + square box, with a gold plate on it, a box so heavy that those twenty men + cannot drag it up the bank. Let us go, brothers, and help pull at the + ropes, and perchance we may see what’s inside. Treasure, no doubt. Gold is + heavy and hard to hold, O Brothers! Let us go and earn a recompense from + the fierce Rajah of the Sea who shouts over there, with a red face. See! + There is a man carrying a pile of books from the boat! What a number of + books. What were they for? . . . And an old invalided jurumudi, who had + travelled over many seas and had heard holy men speak in far-off + countries, explained to a small knot of unsophisticated citizens of Sambir + that those books were books of magic—of magic that guides the white + men’s ships over the seas, that gives them their wicked wisdom and their + strength; of magic that makes them great, powerful, and irresistible while + they live, and—praise be to Allah!—the victims of Satan, the + slaves of Jehannum when they die. + </p> + <p> + And when he saw the room furnished, Almayer had felt proud. In his + exultation of an empty-headed quill-driver, he thought himself, by the + virtue of that furniture, at the head of a serious business. He had sold + himself to Lingard for these things—married the Malay girl of his + adoption for the reward of these things and of the great wealth that must + necessarily follow upon conscientious book-keeping. He found out very soon + that trade in Sambir meant something entirely different. He could not + guide Patalolo, control the irrepressible old Sahamin, or restrain the + youthful vagaries of the fierce Bahassoen with pen, ink, and paper. He + found no successful magic in the blank pages of his ledgers; and gradually + he lost his old point of view in the saner appreciation of his situation. + The room known as the office became neglected then like a temple of an + exploded superstition. At first, when his wife reverted to her original + savagery, Almayer, now and again, had sought refuge from her there; but + after their child began to speak, to know him, he became braver, for he + found courage and consolation in his unreasoning and fierce affection for + his daughter—in the impenetrable mantle of selfishness he wrapped + round both their lives: round himself, and that young life that was also + his. + </p> + <p> + When Lingard ordered him to receive Joanna into his house, he had a + truckle bed put into the office—the only room he could spare. The + big office desk was pushed on one side, and Joanna came with her little + shabby trunk and with her child and took possession in her dreamy, slack, + half-asleep way; took possession of the dust, dirt, and squalor, where she + appeared naturally at home, where she dragged a melancholy and dull + existence; an existence made up of sad remorse and frightened hope, + amongst the hopeless disorder—the senseless and vain decay of all + these emblems of civilized commerce. Bits of white stuff; rags yellow, + pink, blue: rags limp, brilliant and soiled, trailed on the floor, lay on + the desk amongst the sombre covers of books soiled, grimy, but + stiff-backed, in virtue, perhaps, of their European origin. The biggest + set of bookshelves was partly hidden by a petticoat, the waistband of + which was caught upon the back of a slender book pulled a little out of + the row so as to make an improvised clothespeg. The folding canvas + bedstead stood nearly in the middle of the room, stood anyhow, parallel to + no wall, as if it had been, in the process of transportation to some + remote place, dropped casually there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled + blankets that lay in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat almost all + day with her stockingless feet upon one of the bed pillows that were + somehow always kicking about the floor. She sat there, vaguely tormented + at times by the thought of her absent husband, but most of the time + thinking tearfully of nothing at all, looking with swimming eyes at her + little son—at the big-headed, pasty-faced, and sickly Louis Willems—who + rolled a glass inkstand, solid with dried ink, about the floor, and + tottered after it with the portentous gravity of demeanour and absolute + absorption by the business in hand that characterize the pursuits of early + childhood. Through the half-open shutter a ray of sunlight, a ray + merciless and crude, came into the room, beat in the early morning upon + the safe in the far-off corner, then, travelling against the sun, cut at + midday the big desk in two with its solid and clean-edged brilliance; with + its hot brilliance in which a swarm of flies hovered in dancing flight + over some dirty plate forgotten there amongst yellow papers for many a + day. And towards the evening the cynical ray seemed to cling to the ragged + petticoat, lingered on it with wicked enjoyment of that misery it had + exposed all day; lingered on the corner of the dusty bookshelf, in a red + glow intense and mocking, till it was suddenly snatched by the setting sun + out of the way of the coming night. And the night entered the room. The + night abrupt, impenetrable and all-filling with its flood of darkness; the + night cool and merciful; the blind night that saw nothing, but could hear + the fretful whimpering of the child, the creak of the bedstead, Joanna’s + deep sighs as she turned over, sleepless, in the confused conviction of + her wickedness, thinking of that man masterful, fair-headed, and strong—a + man hard perhaps, but her husband; her clever and handsome husband to whom + she had acted so cruelly on the advice of bad people, if her own people; + and of her poor, dear, deceived mother. + </p> + <p> + To Almayer, Joanna’s presence was a constant worry, a worry unobtrusive + yet intolerable; a constant, but mostly mute, warning of possible danger. + In view of the absurd softness of Lingard’s heart, every one in whom + Lingard manifested the slightest interest was to Almayer a natural enemy. + He was quite alive to that feeling, and in the intimacy of the secret + intercourse with his inner self had often congratulated himself upon his + own wide-awake comprehension of his position. In that way, and impelled by + that motive, Almayer had hated many and various persons at various times. + But he never had hated and feared anybody so much as he did hate and fear + Willems. Even after Willems’ treachery, which seemed to remove him beyond + the pale of all human sympathy, Almayer mistrusted the situation and + groaned in spirit every time he caught sight of Joanna. + </p> + <p> + He saw her very seldom in the daytime. But in the short and opal-tinted + twilights, or in the azure dusk of starry evenings, he often saw, before + he slept, the slender and tall figure trailing to and fro the ragged tail + of its white gown over the dried mud of the riverside in front of the + house. Once or twice when he sat late on the verandah, with his feet upon + the deal table on a level with the lamp, reading the seven months’ old + copy of the North China Herald, brought by Lingard, he heard the stairs + creak, and, looking round the paper, he saw her frail and meagre form rise + step by step and toil across the verandah, carrying with difficulty the + big, fat child, whose head, lying on the mother’s bony shoulder, seemed of + the same size as Joanna’s own. Several times she had assailed him with + tearful clamour or mad entreaties: asking about her husband, wanting to + know where he was, when he would be back; and ending every such outburst + with despairing and incoherent self-reproaches that were absolutely + incomprehensible to Almayer. On one or two occasions she had overwhelmed + her host with vituperative abuse, making him responsible for her husband’s + absence. Those scenes, begun without any warning, ended abruptly in a + sobbing flight and a bang of the door; stirred the house with a sudden, a + fierce, and an evanescent disturbance; like those inexplicable whirlwinds + that rise, run, and vanish without apparent cause upon the sun-scorched + dead level of arid and lamentable plains. + </p> + <p> + But to-night the house was quiet, deadly quiet, while Almayer stood still, + watching that delicate balance where he was weighing all his chances: + Joanna’s intelligence, Lingard’s credulity, Willems’ reckless audacity, + desire to escape, readiness to seize an unexpected opportunity. He + weighed, anxious and attentive, his fears and his desires against the + tremendous risk of a quarrel with Lingard. . . . Yes. Lingard would be + angry. Lingard might suspect him of some connivance in his prisoner’s + escape—but surely he would not quarrel with him—Almayer—about + those people once they were gone—gone to the devil in their own way. + And then he had hold of Lingard through the little girl. Good. What an + annoyance! A prisoner! As if one could keep him in there. He was bound to + get away some time or other. Of course. A situation like that can’t last. + Anybody could see that. Lingard’s eccentricity passed all bounds. You may + kill a man, but you mustn’t torture him. It was almost criminal. It caused + worry, trouble, and unpleasantness. . . . Almayer for a moment felt very + angry with Lingard. He made him responsible for the anguish he suffered + from, for the anguish of doubt and fear; for compelling him—the + practical and innocent Almayer—to such painful efforts of mind in + order to find out some issue for absurd situations created by the + unreasonable sentimentality of Lingard’s unpractical impulses. + </p> + <p> + “Now if the fellow were dead it would be all right,” said Almayer to the + verandah. + </p> + <p> + He stirred a little, and scratching his nose thoughtfully, revelled in a + short flight of fancy, showing him his own image crouching in a big boat, + that floated arrested—say fifty yards off—abreast of Willems’ + landing-place. In the bottom of the boat there was a gun. A loaded gun. + One of the boatmen would shout, and Willems would answer—from the + bushes. The rascal would be suspicious. Of course. Then the man would wave + a piece of paper urging Willems to come to the landing-place and receive + an important message. “From the Rajah Laut” the man would yell as the boat + edged in-shore, and that would fetch Willems out. Wouldn’t it? Rather! And + Almayer saw himself jumping up at the right moment, taking aim, pulling + the trigger—and Willems tumbling over, his head in the water—the + swine! + </p> + <p> + He seemed to hear the report of the shot. It made him thrill from head to + foot where he stood. . . . How simple! . . . Unfortunate . . . Lingard . . + . He sighed, shook his head. Pity. Couldn’t be done. And couldn’t leave + him there either! Suppose the Arabs were to get hold of him again—for + instance to lead an expedition up the river! Goodness only knows what harm + would come of it. . . . + </p> + <p> + The balance was at rest now and inclining to the side of immediate action. + Almayer walked to the door, walked up very close to it, knocked loudly, + and turned his head away, looking frightened for a moment at what he had + done. After waiting for a while he put his ear against the panel and + listened. Nothing. He composed his features into an agreeable expression + while he stood listening and thinking to himself: I hear her. Crying. Eh? + I believe she has lost the little wits she had and is crying night and day + since I began to prepare her for the news of her husband’s death—as + Lingard told me. I wonder what she thinks. It’s just like father to make + me invent all these stories for nothing at all. Out of kindness. Kindness! + Damn! . . . She isn’t deaf, surely. + </p> + <p> + He knocked again, then said in a friendly tone, grinning benevolently at + the closed door— + </p> + <p> + “It’s me, Mrs. Willems. I want to speak to you. I have . . . have . . . + important news. . . .” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “News,” repeated Almayer, distinctly. “News about your husband. Your + husband! . . . Damn him!” he added, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + He heard a stumbling rush inside. Things were overturned. Joanna’s + agitated voice cried— + </p> + <p> + “News! What? What? I am coming out.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” shouted Almayer. “Put on some clothes, Mrs. Willems, and let me in. + It’s . . . very confidential. You have a candle, haven’t you?” + </p> + <p> + She was knocking herself about blindly amongst the furniture in that room. + The candlestick was upset. Matches were struck ineffectually. The matchbox + fell. He heard her drop on her knees and grope over the floor while she + kept on moaning in maddened distraction. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God! News! Yes . . . yes. . . . Ah! where . . . where . . . + candle. Oh, my God! . . . I can’t find . . . Don’t go away, for the love + of Heaven . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to go away,” said Almayer, impatiently, through the keyhole; + “but look sharp. It’s coni . . . it’s pressing.” + </p> + <p> + He stamped his foot lightly, waiting with his hand on the door-handle. He + thought anxiously: The woman’s a perfect idiot. Why should I go away? She + will be off her head. She will never catch my meaning. She’s too stupid. + </p> + <p> + She was moving now inside the room hurriedly and in silence. He waited. + There was a moment of perfect stillness in there, and then she spoke in an + exhausted voice, in words that were shaped out of an expiring sigh—out + of a sigh light and profound, like words breathed out by a woman before + going off into a dead faint— + </p> + <p> + “Come in.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed the door. Ali, coming through the passage with an armful of + pillows and blankets pressed to his breast high up under his chin, caught + sight of his master before the door closed behind him. He was so + astonished that he dropped his bundle and stood staring at the door for a + long time. He heard the voice of his master talking. Talking to that + Sirani woman! Who was she? He had never thought about that really. He + speculated for a while hazily upon things in general. She was a Sirani + woman—and ugly. He made a disdainful grimace, picked up the bedding, + and went about his work, slinging the hammock between two uprights of the + verandah. . . . Those things did not concern him. She was ugly, and + brought here by the Rajah Laut, and his master spoke to her in the night. + Very well. He, Ali, had his work to do. Sling the hammock—go round + and see that the watchmen were awake—take a look at the moorings of + the boats, at the padlock of the big storehouse—then go to sleep. To + sleep! He shivered pleasantly. He leaned with both arms over his master’s + hammock and fell into a light doze. + </p> + <p> + A scream, unexpected, piercing—a scream beginning at once in the + highest pitch of a woman’s voice and then cut short, so short that it + suggested the swift work of death—caused Ali to jump on one side + away from the hammock, and the silence that succeeded seemed to him as + startling as the awful shriek. He was thunderstruck with surprise. Almayer + came out of the office, leaving the door ajar, passed close to his servant + without taking any notice, and made straight for the water-chatty hung on + a nail in a draughty place. He took it down and came back, missing the + petrified Ali by an inch. He moved with long strides, yet, notwithstanding + his haste, stopped short before the door, and, throwing his head back, + poured a thin stream of water down his throat. While he came and went, + while he stopped to drink, while he did all this, there came steadily from + the dark room the sound of feeble and persistent crying, the crying of a + sleepy and frightened child. After he had drunk, Almayer went in, closing + the door carefully. + </p> + <p> + Ali did not budge. That Sirani woman shrieked! He felt an immense + curiosity very unusual to his stolid disposition. He could not take his + eyes off the door. Was she dead in there? How interesting and funny! He + stood with open mouth till he heard again the rattle of the door-handle. + Master coming out. He pivoted on his heels with great rapidity and made + believe to be absorbed in the contemplation of the night outside. He heard + Almayer moving about behind his back. Chairs were displaced. His master + sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Ali,” said Almayer. + </p> + <p> + His face was gloomy and thoughtful. He looked at his head man, who had + approached the table, then he pulled out his watch. It was going. Whenever + Lingard was in Sambir Almayer’s watch was going. He would set it by the + cabin clock, telling himself every time that he must really keep that + watch going for the future. And every time, when Lingard went away, he + would let it run down and would measure his weariness by sunrises and + sunsets in an apathetic indifference to mere hours; to hours only; to + hours that had no importance in Sambir life, in the tired stagnation of empty + days; when nothing mattered to him but the quality of guttah and the size + of rattans; where there were no small hopes to be watched for; where to + him there was nothing interesting, nothing supportable, nothing desirable + to expect; nothing bitter but the slowness of the passing days; nothing + sweet but the hope, the distant and glorious hope—the hope wearying, + aching and precious, of getting away. + </p> + <p> + He looked at the watch. Half-past eight. Ali waited stolidly. + </p> + <p> + “Go to the settlement,” said Almayer, “and tell Mahmat Banjer to come and + speak to me to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Ali went off muttering. He did not like his errand. Banjer and his two + brothers were Bajow vagabonds who had appeared lately in Sambir and had + been allowed to take possession of a tumbledown abandoned hut, on three + posts, belonging to Lingard & Co., and standing just outside their + fence. Ali disapproved of the favour shown to those strangers. Any kind of + dwelling was valuable in Sambir at that time, and if master did not want + that old rotten house he might have given it to him, Ali, who was his + servant, instead of bestowing it upon those bad men. Everybody knew they + were bad. It was well known that they had stolen a boat from Hinopari, who + was very aged and feeble and had no sons; and that afterwards, by the + truculent recklessness of their demeanour, they had frightened the poor + old man into holding his tongue about it. Yet everybody knew of it. It was + one of the tolerated scandals of Sambir, disapproved and accepted, a + manifestation of that base acquiescence in success, of that inexpressed + and cowardly toleration of strength, that exists, infamous and + irremediable, at the bottom of all hearts, in all societies; whenever men + congregate; in bigger and more virtuous places than Sambir, and in Sambir + also, where, as in other places, one man could steal a boat with impunity + while another would have no right to look at a paddle. + </p> + <p> + Almayer, leaning back in his chair, meditated. The more he thought, the + more he felt convinced that Banjer and his brothers were exactly the men + he wanted. Those fellows were sea gipsies, and could disappear without + attracting notice; and if they returned, nobody—and Lingard least of + all—would dream of seeking information from them. Moreover, they had + no personal interest of any kind in Sambir affairs—had taken no + sides—would know nothing anyway. + </p> + <p> + He called in a strong voice: “Mrs. Willems!” + </p> + <p> + She came out quickly, almost startling him, so much did she appear as + though she had surged up through the floor, on the other side of the + table. The lamp was between them, and Almayer moved it aside, looking up + at her from his chair. She was crying. She was crying gently, silently, in + a ceaseless welling up of tears that did not fall in drops, but seemed to + overflow in a clear sheet from under her eyelids—seemed to flow at + once all over her face, her cheeks, and over her chin that glistened with + moisture in the light. Her breast and her shoulders were shaken repeatedly + by a convulsive and noiseless catching in her breath, and after every + spasmodic sob her sorrowful little head, tied up in a red kerchief, + trembled on her long neck, round which her bony hand gathered and clasped + the disarranged dress. + </p> + <p> + “Compose yourself, Mrs. Willems,” said Almayer. + </p> + <p> + She emitted an inarticulate sound that seemed to be a faint, a very far + off, a hardly audible cry of mortal distress. Then the tears went on + flowing in profound stillness. + </p> + <p> + “You must understand that I have told you all this because I am your + friend—real friend,” said Almayer, after looking at her for some + time with visible dissatisfaction. “You, his wife, ought to know the + danger he is in. Captain Lingard is a terrible man, you know.” + </p> + <p> + She blubbered out, sniffing and sobbing together. + </p> + <p> + “Do you . . . you . . . speak . . . the . . . the truth now?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word of honour. On the head of my child,” protested Almayer. “I + had to deceive you till now because of Captain Lingard. But I couldn’t + bear it. Think only what a risk I run in telling you—if ever Lingard + was to know! Why should I do it? Pure friendship. Dear Peter was my + colleague in Macassar for years, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall I do . . . what shall I do!” she exclaimed, faintly, looking + around on every side as if she could not make up her mind which way to + rush off. + </p> + <p> + “You must help him to clear out, now Lingard is away. He offended Lingard, + and that’s no joke. Lingard said he would kill him. He will do it, too,” + said Almayer, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + She wrung her hands. “Oh! the wicked man. The wicked, wicked man!” she + moaned, swaying her body from side to side. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Yes! He is terrible,” assented Almayer. “You must not lose any time. + I say! Do you understand me, Mrs. Willems? Think of your husband. Of your + poor husband. How happy he will be. You will bring him his life—actually + his life. Think of him.” + </p> + <p> + She ceased her swaying movement, and now, with her head sunk between her + shoulders, she hugged herself with both her arms; and she stared at + Almayer with wild eyes, while her teeth chattered, rattling violently and + uninterruptedly, with a very loud sound, in the deep peace of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Mother of God!” she wailed. “I am a miserable woman. Will he forgive + me? The poor, innocent man. Will he forgive me? Oh, Mr. Almayer, he is so + severe. Oh! help me. . . . I dare not. . . . You don’t know what I’ve done + to him. . . . I daren’t! . . . I can’t! . . . God help me!” + </p> + <p> + The last words came in a despairing cry. Had she been flayed alive she + could not have sent to heaven a more terrible, a more heartrending and + anguished plaint. + </p> + <p> + “Sh! Sh!” hissed Almayer, jumping up. “You will wake up everybody with + your shouting.” + </p> + <p> + She kept on sobbing then without any noise, and Almayer stared at her in + boundless astonishment. The idea that, maybe, he had done wrong by + confiding in her, upset him so much that for a moment he could not find a + connected thought in his head. + </p> + <p> + At last he said: “I swear to you that your husband is in such a position + that he would welcome the devil . . . listen well to me . . . the devil + himself if the devil came to him in a canoe. Unless I am much mistaken,” + he added, under his breath. Then again, loudly: “If you have any little + difference to make up with him, I assure you—I swear to you—this + is your time!” + </p> + <p> + The ardently persuasive tone of his words—he thought—would + have carried irresistible conviction to a graven image. He noticed with + satisfaction that Joanna seemed to have got some inkling of his meaning. + He continued, speaking slowly— + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Mrs. Willems. I can’t do anything. Daren’t. But I will tell + you what I will do. There will come here in about ten minutes a Bugis man—you + know the language; you are from Macassar. He has a large canoe; he can + take you there. To the new Rajah’s clearing, tell him. They are three + brothers, ready for anything if you pay them . . . you have some money. + Haven’t you?” + </p> + <p> + She stood—perhaps listening—but giving no sign of + intelligence, and stared at the floor in sudden immobility, as if the + horror of the situation, the overwhelming sense of her own wickedness and + of her husband’s great danger, had stunned her brain, her heart, her will—had + left her no faculty but that of breathing and of keeping on her feet. + Almayer swore to himself with much mental profanity that he had never seen + a more useless, a more stupid being. + </p> + <p> + “D’ye hear me?” he said, raising his voice. “Do try to understand. Have + you any money? Money. Dollars. Guilders. Money! What’s the matter with + you?” + </p> + <p> + Without raising her eyes she said, in a voice that sounded weak and + undecided as if she had been making a desperate effort of memory— + </p> + <p> + “The house has been sold. Mr. Hudig was angry.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer gripped the edge of the table with all his strength. He resisted + manfully an almost uncontrollable impulse to fly at her and box her ears. + </p> + <p> + “It was sold for money, I suppose,” he said with studied and incisive + calmness. “Have you got it? Who has got it?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him, raising her swollen eyelids with a great effort, in + a sorrowful expression of her drooping mouth, of her whole besmudged and + tear-stained face. She whispered resignedly— + </p> + <p> + “Leonard had some. He wanted to get married. And uncle Antonio; he sat at + the door and would not go away. And Aghostina—she is so poor . . . + and so many, many children—little children. And Luiz the engineer. + He never said a word against my husband. Also our cousin Maria. She came + and shouted, and my head was so bad, and my heart was worse. Then cousin + Salvator and old Daniel da Souza, who . . .” + </p> + <p> + Almayer had listened to her speechless with rage. He thought: I must give + money now to that idiot. Must! Must get her out of the way now before + Lingard is back. He made two attempts to speak before he managed to burst + out— + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to know their blasted names! Tell me, did all those infernal + people leave you anything? To you! That’s what I want to know!” + </p> + <p> + “I have two hundred and fifteen dollars,” said Joanna, in a frightened + tone. + </p> + <p> + Almayer breathed freely. He spoke with great friendliness— + </p> + <p> + “That will do. It isn’t much, but it will do. Now when the man comes I + will be out of the way. You speak to him. Give him some money; only a + little, mind! And promise more. Then when you get there you will be guided + by your husband, of course. And don’t forget to tell him that Captain + Lingard is at the mouth of the river—the northern entrance. You will + remember. Won’t you? The northern branch. Lingard is—death.” + </p> + <p> + Joanna shivered. Almayer went on rapidly— + </p> + <p> + “I would have given you money if you had wanted it. ‘Pon my word! Tell + your husband I’ve sent you to him. And tell him not to lose any time. And + also say to him from me that we shall meet—some day. That I could + not die happy unless I met him once more. Only once. I love him, you know. + I prove it. Tremendous risk to me—this business is!” + </p> + <p> + Joanna snatched his hand and before he knew what she would be at, pressed + it to her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Willems! Don’t. What are you . . .” cried the abashed Almayer, + tearing his hand away. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are good!” she cried, with sudden exaltation, “You are noble . . + . I shall pray every day . . . to all the saints . . . I shall . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind . . . never mind!” stammered out Almayer, confusedly, without + knowing very well what he was saying. “Only look out for Lingard. . . . I + am happy to be able . . . in your sad situation . . . believe me. . . .” + </p> + <p> + They stood with the table between them, Joanna looking down, and her face, + in the half-light above the lamp, appeared like a soiled carving of old + ivory—a carving, with accentuated anxious hollows, of old, very old + ivory. Almayer looked at her, mistrustful, hopeful. He was saying to + himself: How frail she is! I could upset her by blowing at her. She seems + to have got some idea of what must be done, but will she have the strength + to carry it through? I must trust to luck now! + </p> + <p> + Somewhere far in the back courtyard Ali’s voice rang suddenly in angry + remonstrance— + </p> + <p> + “Why did you shut the gate, O father of all mischief? You a watchman! You + are only a wild man. Did I not tell you I was coming back? You . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I am off, Mrs. Willems,” exclaimed Almayer. “That man is here—with + my servant. Be calm. Try to . . .” + </p> + <p> + He heard the footsteps of the two men in the passage, and without + finishing his sentence ran rapidly down the steps towards the riverside. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + For the next half-hour Almayer, who wanted to give Joanna plenty of time, + stumbled amongst the lumber in distant parts of his enclosure, sneaked + along the fences; or held his breath, flattened against grass walls behind + various outhouses: all this to escape Ali’s inconveniently zealous search + for his master. He heard him talk with the head watchman—sometimes + quite close to him in the darkness—then moving off, coming back, + wondering, and, as the time passed, growing uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “He did not fall into the river?—say, thou blind watcher!” Ali was + growling in a bullying tone, to the other man. “He told me to fetch + Mahmat, and when I came back swiftly I found him not in the house. There + is that Sirani woman there, so that Mahmat cannot steal anything, but it + is in my mind, the night will be half gone before I rest.” + </p> + <p> + He shouted— + </p> + <p> + “Master! O master! O mast . . .” + </p> + <p> + “What are you making that noise for?” said Almayer, with severity, + stepping out close to them. + </p> + <p> + The two Malays leaped away from each other in their surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You may go. I don’t want you any more tonight, Ali,” went on Almayer. “Is + Mahmat there?” + </p> + <p> + “Unless the ill-behaved savage got tired of waiting. Those men know not + politeness. They should not be spoken to by white men,” said Ali, + resentfully. + </p> + <p> + Almayer went towards the house, leaving his servants to wonder where he + had sprung from so unexpectedly. The watchman hinted obscurely at powers + of invisibility possessed by the master, who often at night . . . Ali + interrupted him with great scorn. Not every white man has the power. Now, + the Rajah Laut could make himself invisible. Also, he could be in two + places at once, as everybody knew; except he—the useless watchman—who + knew no more about white men than a wild pig! Ya-wa! + </p> + <p> + And Ali strolled towards his hut, yawning loudly. + </p> + <p> + As Almayer ascended the steps he heard the noise of a door flung to, and + when he entered the verandah he saw only Mahmat there, close to the + doorway of the passage. Mahmat seemed to be caught in the very act of + slinking away, and Almayer noticed that with satisfaction. Seeing the + white man, the Malay gave up his attempt and leaned against the wall. He + was a short, thick, broad-shouldered man with very dark skin and a wide, + stained, bright-red mouth that uncovered, when he spoke, a close row of + black and glistening teeth. His eyes were big, prominent, dreamy and + restless. He said sulkily, looking all over the place from under his + eyebrows— + </p> + <p> + “White Tuan, you are great and strong—and I a poor man. Tell me what + is your will, and let me go in the name of God. It is late.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer examined the man thoughtfully. How could he find out whether . . . + He had it! Lately he had employed that man and his two brothers as extra + boatmen to carry stores, provisions, and new axes to a camp of rattan + cutters some distance up the river. A three days’ expedition. He would + test him now in that way. He said negligently— + </p> + <p> + “I want you to start at once for the camp, with surat for the Kavitan. One + dollar a day.” + </p> + <p> + The man appeared plunged in dull hesitation, but Almayer, who knew his + Malays, felt pretty sure from his aspect that nothing would induce the + fellow to go. He urged— + </p> + <p> + “It is important—and if you are swift I shall give two dollars for + the last day.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Tuan. We do not go,” said the man, in a hoarse whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “We start on another journey.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “To a place we know of,” said Mahmat, a little louder, in a stubborn + manner, and looking at the floor. + </p> + <p> + Almayer experienced a feeling of immense joy. He said, with affected + annoyance— + </p> + <p> + “You men live in my house and it is as if it were your own. I may want my + house soon.” + </p> + <p> + Mahmat looked up. + </p> + <p> + “We are men of the sea and care not for a roof when we have a canoe that + will hold three, and a paddle apiece. The sea is our house. Peace be with + you, Tuan.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and went away rapidly, and Almayer heard him directly afterwards + in the courtyard calling to the watchman to open the gate. Mahmat passed + through the gate in silence, but before the bar had been put up behind him + he had made up his mind that if the white man ever wanted to eject him + from his hut, he would burn it and also as many of the white man’s other + buildings as he could safely get at. And he began to call his brothers + before he was inside the dilapidated dwelling. + </p> + <p> + “All’s well!” muttered Almayer to himself, taking some loose Java tobacco + from a drawer in the table. “Now if anything comes out I am clear. I asked + the man to go up the river. I urged him. He will say so himself. Good.” + </p> + <p> + He began to charge the china bowl of his pipe, a pipe with a long cherry + stem and a curved mouthpiece, pressing the tobacco down with his thumb and + thinking: No. I sha’n’t see her again. Don’t want to. I will give her a + good start, then go in chase—and send an express boat after father. + Yes! that’s it. + </p> + <p> + He approached the door of the office and said, holding his pipe away from + his lips— + </p> + <p> + “Good luck to you, Mrs. Willems. Don’t lose any time. You may get along by + the bushes; the fence there is out of repair. Don’t lose time. Don’t + forget that it is a matter of . . . life and death. And don’t forget that + I know nothing. I trust you.” + </p> + <p> + He heard inside a noise as of a chest-lid falling down. She made a few + steps. Then a sigh, profound and long, and some faint words which he did + not catch. He moved away from the door on tiptoe, kicked off his slippers + in a corner of the verandah, then entered the passage puffing at his pipe; + entered cautiously in a gentle creaking of planks and turned into a + curtained entrance to the left. There was a big room. On the floor a small + binnacle lamp—that had found its way to the house years ago from the + lumber-room of the Flash—did duty for a night-light. It glimmered + very small and dull in the great darkness. Almayer walked to it, and + picking it up revived the flame by pulling the wick with his fingers, + which he shook directly after with a grimace of pain. Sleeping shapes, + covered—head and all—with white sheets, lay about on the mats + on the floor. In the middle of the room a small cot, under a square white + mosquito net, stood—the only piece of furniture between the four + walls—looking like an altar of transparent marble in a gloomy + temple. A woman, half-lying on the floor with her head dropped on her + arms, which were crossed on the foot of the cot, woke up as Almayer strode + over her outstretched legs. She sat up without a word, leaning forward, + and, clasping her knees, stared down with sad eyes, full of sleep. + </p> + <p> + Almayer, the smoky light in one hand, his pipe in the other, stood before + the curtained cot looking at his daughter—at his little Nina—at + that part of himself, at that small and unconscious particle of humanity + that seemed to him to contain all his soul. And it was as if he had been + bathed in a bright and warm wave of tenderness, in a tenderness greater + than the world, more precious than life; the only thing real, living, + sweet, tangible, beautiful and safe amongst the elusive, the distorted and + menacing shadows of existence. On his face, lit up indistinctly by the + short yellow flame of the lamp, came a look of rapt attention while he + looked into her future. And he could see things there! Things charming and + splendid passing before him in a magic unrolling of resplendent pictures; + pictures of events brilliant, happy, inexpressibly glorious, that would + make up her life. He would do it! He would do it. He would! He would—for + that child! And as he stood in the still night, lost in his enchanting and + gorgeous dreams, while the ascending, thin thread of tobacco smoke spread + into a faint bluish cloud above his head, he appeared strangely impressive + and ecstatic: like a devout and mystic worshipper, adoring, transported + and mute; burning incense before a shrine, a diaphanous shrine of a + child-idol with closed eyes; before a pure and vaporous shrine of a small + god—fragile, powerless, unconscious and sleeping. + </p> + <p> + When Ali, roused by loud and repeated shouting of his name, stumbled + outside the door of his hut, he saw a narrow streak of trembling gold + above the forests and a pale sky with faded stars overhead: signs of the + coming day. His master stood before the door waving a piece of paper in + his hand and shouting excitedly—“Quick, Ali! Quick!” When he saw his + servant he rushed forward, and pressing the paper on him objurgated him, + in tones which induced Ali to think that something awful had happened, to + hurry up and get the whale-boat ready to go immediately—at once, at + once—after Captain Lingard. Ali remonstrated, agitated also, having + caught the infection of distracted haste. + </p> + <p> + “If must go quick, better canoe. Whale-boat no can catch, same as small + canoe.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Whale-boat! whale-boat! You dolt! you wretch!” howled Almayer, + with all the appearance of having gone mad. “Call the men! Get along with + it. Fly!” + </p> + <p> + And Ali rushed about the courtyard kicking the doors of huts open to put + his head in and yell frightfully inside; and as he dashed from hovel to + hovel, men shivering and sleepy were coming out, looking after him + stupidly, while they scratched their ribs with bewildered apathy. It was + hard work to put them in motion. They wanted time to stretch themselves + and to shiver a little. Some wanted food. One said he was sick. Nobody + knew where the rudder was. Ali darted here and there, ordering, abusing, + pushing one, then another, and stopping in his exertions at times to wring + his hands hastily and groan, because the whale-boat was much slower than + the worst canoe and his master would not listen to his protestations. + </p> + <p> + Almayer saw the boat go off at last, pulled anyhow by men that were cold, + hungry, and sulky; and he remained on the jetty watching it down the + reach. It was broad day then, and the sky was perfectly cloudless. Almayer + went up to the house for a moment. His household was all astir and + wondering at the strange disappearance of the Sirani woman, who had taken + her child and had left her luggage. Almayer spoke to no one, got his + revolver, and went down to the river again. He jumped into a small canoe + and paddled himself towards the schooner. He worked very leisurely, but as + soon as he was nearly alongside he began to hail the silent craft with the + tone and appearance of a man in a tremendous hurry. + </p> + <p> + “Schooner ahoy! schooner ahoy!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + A row of blank faces popped up above the bulwark. After a while a man with + a woolly head of hair said— + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + “The mate! the mate! Call him, steward!” said Almayer, excitedly, making a + frantic grab at a rope thrown down to him by somebody. + </p> + <p> + In less than a minute the mate put his head over. He asked, surprised— + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you, Mr. Almayer?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me have the gig at once, Mr. Swan—at once. I ask in Captain + Lingard’s name. I must have it. Matter of life and death.” + </p> + <p> + The mate was impressed by Almayer’s agitation + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it, sir. . . . Man the gig there! Bear a hand, serang! . . + . It’s hanging astern, Mr. Almayer,” he said, looking down again. “Get + into it, sir. The men are coming down by the painter.” + </p> + <p> + By the time Almayer had clambered over into the stern sheets, four + calashes were in the boat and the oars were being passed over the + taffrail. The mate was looking on. Suddenly he said— + </p> + <p> + “Is it dangerous work? Do you want any help? I would come . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” cried Almayer. “Come along. Don’t lose a moment. Go and get + your revolver. Hurry up! hurry up!” + </p> + <p> + Yet, notwithstanding his feverish anxiety to be off, he lolled back very + quiet and unconcerned till the mate got in and, passing over the thwarts, + sat down by his side. Then he seemed to wake up, and called out— + </p> + <p> + “Let go—let go the painter!” + </p> + <p> + “Let go the painter—the painter!” yelled the bowman, jerking at it. + </p> + <p> + People on board also shouted “Let go!” to one another, till it occurred at + last to somebody to cast off the rope; and the boat drifted rapidly away + from the schooner in the sudden silencing of all voices. + </p> + <p> + Almayer steered. The mate sat by his side, pushing the cartridges into the + chambers of his revolver. When the weapon was loaded he asked— + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Are you after somebody?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Almayer, curtly, with his eyes fixed ahead on the river. “We + must catch a dangerous man.” + </p> + <p> + “I like a bit of a chase myself,” declared the mate, and then, discouraged + by Almayer’s aspect of severe thoughtfulness, said nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Nearly an hour passed. The calashes stretched forward head first and lay + back with their faces to the sky, alternately, in a regular swing that + sent the boat flying through the water; and the two sitters, very upright + in the stern sheets, swayed rhythmically a little at every stroke of the + long oars plied vigorously. + </p> + <p> + The mate observed: “The tide is with us.” + </p> + <p> + “The current always runs down in this river,” said Almayer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I know,” retorted the other; “but it runs faster on the ebb. + Look by the land at the way we get over the ground! A five-knot current + here, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m!” growled Almayer. Then suddenly: “There is a passage between two + islands that will save us four miles. But at low water the two islands, in + the dry season, are like one with only a mud ditch between them. Still, + it’s worth trying.” + </p> + <p> + “Ticklish job that, on a falling tide,” said the mate, coolly. “You know + best whether there’s time to get through.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try,” said Almayer, watching the shore intently. “Look out now!” + </p> + <p> + He tugged hard at the starboard yoke-line. + </p> + <p> + “Lay in your oars!” shouted the mate. + </p> + <p> + The boat swept round and shot through the narrow opening of a creek that + broadened out before the craft had time to lose its way. + </p> + <p> + “Out oars! . . . Just room enough,” muttered the mate. + </p> + <p> + It was a sombre creek of black water speckled with the gold of scattered + sunlight falling through the boughs that met overhead in a soaring, + restless arc full of gentle whispers passing, tremulous, aloft amongst the + thick leaves. The creepers climbed up the trunks of serried trees that + leaned over, looking insecure and undermined by floods which had eaten + away the earth from under their roots. And the pungent, acrid smell of + rotting leaves, of flowers, of blossoms and plants dying in that poisonous + and cruel gloom, where they pined for sunshine in vain, seemed to lay + heavy, to press upon the shiny and stagnant water in its tortuous windings + amongst the everlasting and invincible shadows. + </p> + <p> + Almayer looked anxious. He steered badly. Several times the blades of the + oars got foul of the bushes on one side or the other, checking the way of + the gig. During one of those occurrences, while they were getting clear, + one of the calashes said something to the others in a rapid whisper. They + looked down at the water. So did the mate. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” he exclaimed. “Eh, Mr. Almayer! Look! The water is running out. + See there! We will be caught.” + </p> + <p> + “Back! back! We must go back!” cried Almayer. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps better go on.” + </p> + <p> + “No; back! back!” + </p> + <p> + He pulled at the steering line, and ran the nose of the boat into the + bank. Time was lost again in getting clear. + </p> + <p> + “Give way, men! give way!” urged the mate, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + The men pulled with set lips and dilated nostrils, breathing hard. + </p> + <p> + “Too late,” said the mate, suddenly. “The oars touch the bottom already. + We are done.” + </p> + <p> + The boat stuck. The men laid in the oars, and sat, panting, with crossed + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we are caught,” said Almayer, composedly. “That is unlucky!” + </p> + <p> + The water was falling round the boat. The mate watched the patches of mud + coming to the surface. Then in a moment he laughed, and pointing his + finger at the creek— + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he said; “the blamed river is running away from us. Here’s the + last drop of water clearing out round that bend.” + </p> + <p> + Almayer lifted his head. The water was gone, and he looked only at a + curved track of mud—of mud soft and black, hiding fever, rottenness, + and evil under its level and glazed surface. + </p> + <p> + “We are in for it till the evening,” he said, with cheerful resignation. + “I did my best. Couldn’t help it.” + </p> + <p> + “We must sleep the day away,” said the mate. “There’s nothing to eat,” he + added, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + Almayer stretched himself in the stern sheets. The Malays curled down + between thwarts. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m jiggered!” said the mate, starting up after a long pause. “I + was in a devil of a hurry to go and pass the day stuck in the mud. Here’s + a holiday for you! Well! well!” + </p> + <p> + They slept or sat unmoving and patient. As the sun mounted higher the + breeze died out, and perfect stillness reigned in the empty creek. A troop + of long-nosed monkeys appeared, and crowding on the outer boughs, + contemplated the boat and the motionless men in it with grave and + sorrowful intensity, disturbed now and then by irrational outbreaks of mad + gesticulation. A little bird with sapphire breast balanced a slender twig + across a slanting beam of light, and flashed in it to and fro like a gem + dropped from the sky. His minute round eye stared at the strange and + tranquil creatures in the boat. After a while he sent out a thin twitter + that sounded impertinent and funny in the solemn silence of the great + wilderness; in the great silence full of struggle and death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + On Lingard’s departure solitude and silence closed round Willems; the + cruel solitude of one abandoned by men; the reproachful silence which + surrounds an outcast ejected by his kind, the silence unbroken by the + slightest whisper of hope; an immense and impenetrable silence that + swallows up without echo the murmur of regret and the cry of revolt. The + bitter peace of the abandoned clearings entered his heart, in which + nothing could live now but the memory and hate of his past. Not remorse. + In the breast of a man possessed by the masterful consciousness of his + individuality with its desires and its rights; by the immovable conviction + of his own importance, of an importance so indisputable and final that it + clothes all his wishes, endeavours, and mistakes with the dignity of + unavoidable fate, there could be no place for such a feeling as that of + remorse. + </p> + <p> + The days passed. They passed unnoticed, unseen, in the rapid blaze of + glaring sunrises, in the short glow of tender sunsets, in the crushing + oppression of high noons without a cloud. How many days? Two—three—or + more? He did not know. To him, since Lingard had gone, the time seemed to + roll on in profound darkness. All was night within him. All was gone from + his sight. He walked about blindly in the deserted courtyards, amongst the + empty houses that, perched high on their posts, looked down inimically on + him, a white stranger, a man from other lands; seemed to look hostile and + mute out of all the memories of native life that lingered between their + decaying walls. His wandering feet stumbled against the blackened brands + of extinct fires, kicking up a light black dust of cold ashes that flew in + drifting clouds and settled to leeward on the fresh grass sprouting from + the hard ground, between the shade trees. He moved on, and on; ceaseless, + unresting, in widening circles, in zigzagging paths that led to no issue; + he struggled on wearily with a set, distressed face behind which, in his + tired brain, seethed his thoughts: restless, sombre, tangled, chilling, + horrible and venomous, like a nestful of snakes. + </p> + <p> + From afar, the bleared eyes of the old serving woman, the sombre gaze of + Aissa followed the gaunt and tottering figure in its unceasing prowl along + the fences, between the houses, amongst the wild luxuriance of riverside + thickets. Those three human beings abandoned by all were like shipwrecked + people left on an insecure and slippery ledge by the retiring tide of an + angry sea—listening to its distant roar, living anguished between + the menace of its return and the hopeless horror of their solitude—in + the midst of a tempest of passion, of regret, of disgust, of despair. The + breath of the storm had cast two of them there, robbed of everything—even + of resignation. The third, the decrepit witness of their struggle and + their torture, accepted her own dull conception of facts; of strength and + youth gone; of her useless old age; of her last servitude; of being thrown + away by her chief, by her nearest, to use up the last and worthless + remnant of flickering life between those two incomprehensible and sombre + outcasts: a shrivelled, an unmoved, a passive companion of their disaster. + </p> + <p> + To the river Willems turned his eyes like a captive that looks fixedly at + the door of his cell. If there was any hope in the world it would come + from the river, by the river. For hours together he would stand in + sunlight while the sea breeze sweeping over the lonely reach fluttered his + ragged garments; the keen salt breeze that made him shiver now and then + under the flood of intense heat. He looked at the brown and sparkling + solitude of the flowing water, of the water flowing ceaseless and free in + a soft, cool murmur of ripples at his feet. The world seemed to end there. + The forests of the other bank appeared unattainable, enigmatical, for ever + beyond reach like the stars of heaven—and as indifferent. Above and + below, the forests on his side of the river came down to the water in a + serried multitude of tall, immense trees towering in a great spread of + twisted boughs above the thick undergrowth; great, solid trees, looking + sombre, severe, and malevolently stolid, like a giant crowd of pitiless + enemies pressing round silently to witness his slow agony. He was alone, + small, crushed. He thought of escape—of something to be done. What? + A raft! He imagined himself working at it, feverishly, desperately; + cutting down trees, fastening the logs together and then drifting down + with the current, down to the sea into the straits. There were ships there—ships, + help, white men. Men like himself. Good men who would rescue him, take him + away, take him far away where there was trade, and houses, and other men + that could understand him exactly, appreciate his capabilities; where + there was proper food, and money; where there were beds, knives, forks, + carriages, brass bands, cool drinks, churches with well-dressed people + praying in them. He would pray also. The superior land of refined delights + where he could sit on a chair, eat his tiffin off a white tablecloth, nod + to fellows—good fellows; he would be popular; always was—where + he could be virtuous, correct, do business, draw a salary, smoke cigars, + buy things in shops—have boots . . . be happy, free, become rich. O + God! What was wanted? Cut down a few trees. No! One would do. They used to + make canoes by burning out a tree trunk, he had heard. Yes! One would do. + One tree to cut down . . . He rushed forward, and suddenly stood still as + if rooted in the ground. He had a pocket-knife. + </p> + <p> + And he would throw himself down on the ground by the riverside. He was + tired, exhausted; as if that raft had been made, the voyage accomplished, + the fortune attained. A glaze came over his staring eyes, over his eyes + that gazed hopelessly at the rising river where big logs and uprooted + trees drifted in the shine of mid-stream: a long procession of black and + ragged specks. He could swim out and drift away on one of these trees. + Anything to escape! Anything! Any risk! He could fasten himself up between + the dead branches. He was torn by desire, by fear; his heart was wrung by + the faltering of his courage. He turned over, face downwards, his head on + his arms. He had a terrible vision of shadowless horizons where the blue + sky and the blue sea met; or a circular and blazing emptiness where a dead + tree and a dead man drifted together, endlessly, up and down, upon the + brilliant undulations of the straits. No ships there. Only death. And the + river led to it. + </p> + <p> + He sat up with a profound groan. + </p> + <p> + Yes, death. Why should he die? No! Better solitude, better hopeless + waiting, alone. Alone. No! he was not alone, he saw death looking at him + from everywhere; from the bushes, from the clouds—he heard her + speaking to him in the murmur of the river, filling the space, touching + his heart, his brain with a cold hand. He could see and think of nothing + else. He saw it—the sure death—everywhere. He saw it so close + that he was always on the point of throwing out his arms to keep it off. + It poisoned all he saw, all he did; the miserable food he ate, the muddy + water he drank; it gave a frightful aspect to sunrises and sunsets, to the + brightness of hot noon, to the cooling shadows of the evenings. He saw the + horrible form among the big trees, in the network of creepers in the + fantastic outlines of leaves, of the great indented leaves that seemed to + be so many enormous hands with big broad palms, with stiff fingers + outspread to lay hold of him; hands gently stirring, or hands arrested in + a frightful immobility, with a stillness attentive and watching for the + opportunity to take him, to enlace him, to strangle him, to hold him till + he died; hands that would hold him dead, that would never let go, that + would cling to his body for ever till it perished—disappeared in + their frantic and tenacious grasp. + </p> + <p> + And yet the world was full of life. All the things, all the men he knew, + existed, moved, breathed; and he saw them in a long perspective, far off, + diminished, distinct, desirable, unattainable, precious . . . lost for + ever. Round him, ceaselessly, there went on without a sound the mad + turmoil of tropical life. After he had died all this would remain! He + wanted to clasp, to embrace solid things; he had an immense craving for + sensations; for touching, pressing, seeing, handling, holding on, to all + these things. All this would remain—remain for years, for ages, for + ever. After he had miserably died there, all this would remain, would + live, would exist in joyous sunlight, would breathe in the coolness of + serene nights. What for, then? He would be dead. He would be stretched + upon the warm moisture of the ground, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, + knowing nothing; he would lie stiff, passive, rotting slowly; while over + him, under him, through him—unopposed, busy, hurried—the + endless and minute throngs of insects, little shining monsters of + repulsive shapes, with horns, with claws, with pincers, would swarm in + streams, in rushes, in eager struggle for his body; would swarm countless, + persistent, ferocious and greedy—till there would remain nothing but + the white gleam of bleaching bones in the long grass; in the long grass + that would shoot its feathery heads between the bare and polished ribs. + There would be that only left of him; nobody would miss him; no one would + remember him. + </p> + <p> + Nonsense! It could not be. There were ways out of this. Somebody would + turn up. Some human beings would come. He would speak, entreat—use + force to extort help from them. He felt strong; he was very strong. He + would . . . The discouragement, the conviction of the futility of his + hopes would return in an acute sensation of pain in his heart. He would + begin again his aimless wanderings. He tramped till he was ready to drop, + without being able to calm by bodily fatigue the trouble of his soul. + There was no rest, no peace within the cleared grounds of his prison. + There was no relief but in the black release of sleep, of sleep without + memory and without dreams; in the sleep coming brutal and heavy, like the + lead that kills. To forget in annihilating sleep; to tumble headlong, as + if stunned, out of daylight into the night of oblivion, was for him the + only, the rare respite from this existence which he lacked the courage to + endure—or to end. + </p> + <p> + He lived, he struggled with the inarticulate delirium of his thoughts + under the eyes of the silent Aissa. She shared his torment in the poignant + wonder, in the acute longing, in the despairing inability to understand + the cause of his anger and of his repulsion; the hate of his looks; the + mystery of his silence; the menace of his rare words—of those words + in the speech of white people that were thrown at her with rage, with + contempt, with the evident desire to hurt her; to hurt her who had given + herself, her life—all she had to give—to that white man; to + hurt her who had wanted to show him the way to true greatness, who had + tried to help him, in her woman’s dream of everlasting, enduring, + unchangeable affection. From the short contact with the whites in the + crashing collapse of her old life, there remained with her the imposing + idea of irresistible power and of ruthless strength. She had found a man + of their race—and with all their qualities. All whites are alike. + But this man’s heart was full of anger against his own people, full of + anger existing there by the side of his desire of her. And to her it had + been an intoxication of hope for great things born in the proud and tender + consciousness of her influence. She had heard the passing whisper of + wonder and fear in the presence of his hesitation, of his resistance, of + his compromises; and yet with a woman’s belief in the durable + steadfastness of hearts, in the irresistible charm of her own personality, + she had pushed him forward, trusting the future, blindly, hopefully; sure + to attain by his side the ardent desire of her life, if she could only + push him far beyond the possibility of retreat. She did not know, and + could not conceive, anything of his—so exalted—ideals. She + thought the man a warrior and a chief, ready for battle, violence, and + treachery to his own people—for her. What more natural? Was he not a + great, strong man? Those two, surrounded each by the impenetrable wall of + their aspirations, were hopelessly alone, out of sight, out of earshot of + each other; each the centre of dissimilar and distant horizons; standing + each on a different earth, under a different sky. She remembered his + words, his eyes, his trembling lips, his outstretched hands; she + remembered the great, the immeasurable sweetness of her surrender, that + beginning of her power which was to last until death. He remembered the + quaysides and the warehouses; the excitement of a life in a whirl of + silver coins; the glorious uncertainty of a money hunt; his numerous + successes, the lost possibilities of wealth and consequent glory. She, a + woman, was the victim of her heart, of her woman’s belief that there is + nothing in the world but love—the everlasting thing. He was the + victim of his strange principles, of his continence, of his blind belief + in himself, of his solemn veneration for the voice of his boundless + ignorance. + </p> + <p> + In a moment of his idleness, of suspense, of discouragement, she had come—that + creature—and by the touch of her hand had destroyed his future, his + dignity of a clever and civilized man; had awakened in his breast the + infamous thing which had driven him to what he had done, and to end + miserably in the wilderness and be forgotten, or else remembered with hate + or contempt. He dared not look at her, because now whenever he looked at + her his thought seemed to touch crime, like an outstretched hand. She + could only look at him—and at nothing else. What else was there? She + followed him with a timorous gaze, with a gaze for ever expecting, + patient, and entreating. And in her eyes there was the wonder and + desolation of an animal that knows only suffering, of the incomplete soul + that knows pain but knows not hope; that can find no refuge from the facts + of life in the illusory conviction of its dignity, of an exalted destiny + beyond; in the heavenly consolation of a belief in the momentous origin of + its hate. + </p> + <p> + For the first three days after Lingard went away he would not even speak + to her. She preferred his silence to the sound of hated and + incomprehensible words he had been lately addressing to her with a wild + violence of manner, passing at once into complete apathy. And during these + three days he hardly ever left the river, as if on that muddy bank he had + felt himself nearer to his freedom. He would stay late; he would stay till + sunset; he would look at the glow of gold passing away amongst sombre + clouds in a bright red flush, like a splash of warm blood. It seemed to + him ominous and ghastly with a foreboding of violent death that beckoned + him from everywhere—even from the sky. + </p> + <p> + One evening he remained by the riverside long after sunset, regardless of + the night mist that had closed round him, had wrapped him up and clung to + him like a wet winding-sheet. A slight shiver recalled him to his senses, + and he walked up the courtyard towards his house. Aissa rose from before + the fire, that glimmered red through its own smoke, which hung thickening + under the boughs of the big tree. She approached him from the side as he + neared the plankway of the house. He saw her stop to let him begin his + ascent. In the darkness her figure was like the shadow of a woman with + clasped hands put out beseechingly. He stopped—could not help + glancing at her. In all the sombre gracefulness of the straight figure, + her limbs, features—all was indistinct and vague but the gleam of + her eyes in the faint starlight. He turned his head away and moved on. He + could feel her footsteps behind him on the bending planks, but he walked + up without turning his head. He knew what she wanted. She wanted to come + in there. He shuddered at the thought of what might happen in the + impenetrable darkness of that house if they were to find themselves alone—even + for a moment. He stopped in the doorway, and heard her say— + </p> + <p> + “Let me come in. Why this anger? Why this silence? . . . Let me watch . . + . by your side. . . . Have I not watched faithfully? Did harm ever come to + you when you closed your eyes while I was by? . . . I have waited . .. I + have waited for your smile, for your words . . . I can wait no more.. . . + Look at me . . . speak to me. Is there a bad spirit in you? A bad spirit + that has eaten up your courage and your love? Let me touch you. Forget all + . . . All. Forget the wicked hearts, the angry faces . . . and remember + only the day I came to you . . . to you! O my heart! O my life!” + </p> + <p> + The pleading sadness of her appeal filled the space with the tremor of her + low tones, that carried tenderness and tears into the great peace of the + sleeping world. All around them the forests, the clearings, the river, + covered by the silent veil of night, seemed to wake up and listen to her + words in attentive stillness. After the sound of her voice had died out in + a stifled sigh they appeared to listen yet; and nothing stirred among the + shapeless shadows but the innumerable fireflies that twinkled in changing + clusters, in gliding pairs, in wandering and solitary points—like + the glimmering drift of scattered star-dust. + </p> + <p> + Willems turned round slowly, reluctantly, as if compelled by main force. + Her face was hidden in her hands, and he looked above her bent head, into + the sombre brilliance of the night. It was one of those nights that give + the impression of extreme vastness, when the sky seems higher, when the + passing puffs of tepid breeze seem to bring with them faint whispers from + beyond the stars. The air was full of sweet scent, of the scent charming, + penetrating and violent like the impulse of love. He looked into that + great dark place odorous with the breath of life, with the mystery of + existence, renewed, fecund, indestructible; and he felt afraid of his + solitude, of the solitude of his body, of the loneliness of his soul in + the presence of this unconscious and ardent struggle, of this lofty + indifference, of this merciless and mysterious purpose, perpetuating + strife and death through the march of ages. For the second time in his + life he felt, in a sudden sense of his significance, the need to send a + cry for help into the wilderness, and for the second time he realized the + hopelessness of its unconcern. He could shout for help on every side—and + nobody would answer. He could stretch out his hands, he could call for + aid, for support, for sympathy, for relief—and nobody would come. + Nobody. There was no one there—but that woman. + </p> + <p> + His heart was moved, softened with pity at his own abandonment. His anger + against her, against her who was the cause of all his misfortunes, + vanished before his extreme need for some kind of consolation. Perhaps—if + he must resign himself to his fate—she might help him to forget. To + forget! For a moment, in an access of despair so profound that it seemed + like the beginning of peace, he planned the deliberate descent from his + pedestal, the throwing away of his superiority, of all his hopes, of old + ambitions, of the ungrateful civilization. For a moment, forgetfulness in + her arms seemed possible; and lured by that possibility the semblance of + renewed desire possessed his breast in a burst of reckless contempt for + everything outside himself—in a savage disdain of Earth and of + Heaven. He said to himself that he would not repent. The punishment for + his only sin was too heavy. There was no mercy under Heaven. He did not + want any. He thought, desperately, that if he could find with her again + the madness of the past, the strange delirium that had changed him, that + had worked his undoing, he would be ready to pay for it with an eternity + of perdition. He was intoxicated by the subtle perfumes of the night; he + was carried away by the suggestive stir of the warm breeze; he was + possessed by the exaltation of the solitude, of the silence, of his + memories, in the presence of that figure offering herself in a submissive + and patient devotion; coming to him in the name of the past, in the name + of those days when he could see nothing, think of nothing, desire nothing—but + her embrace. + </p> + <p> + He took her suddenly in his arms, and she clasped her hands round his neck + with a low cry of joy and surprise. He took her in his arms and waited for + the transport, for the madness, for the sensations remembered and lost; + and while she sobbed gently on his breast he held her and felt cold, sick, + tired, exasperated with his failure—and ended by cursing himself. + She clung to him trembling with the intensity of her happiness and her + love. He heard her whispering—her face hidden on his shoulder—of + past sorrow, of coming joy that would last for ever; of her unshaken + belief in his love. She had always believed. Always! Even while his face + was turned away from her in the dark days while his mind was wandering in + his own land, amongst his own people. But it would never wander away from + her any more, now it had come back. He would forget the cold faces and the + hard hearts of the cruel people. What was there to remember? Nothing? Was + it not so? . . . + </p> + <p> + He listened hopelessly to the faint murmur. He stood still and rigid, + pressing her mechanically to his breast while he thought that there was + nothing for him in the world. He was robbed of everything; robbed of his + passion, of his liberty, of forgetfulness, of consolation. She, wild with + delight, whispered on rapidly, of love, of light, of peace, of long years. + . . . He looked drearily above her head down into the deeper gloom of the + courtyard. And, all at once, it seemed to him that he was peering into a + sombre hollow, into a deep black hole full of decay and of whitened bones; + into an immense and inevitable grave full of corruption where sooner or + later he must, unavoidably, fall. + </p> + <p> + In the morning he came out early, and stood for a time in the doorway, + listening to the light breathing behind him—in the house. She slept. + He had not closed his eyes through all that night. He stood swaying—then + leaned against the lintel of the door. He was exhausted, done up; fancied + himself hardly alive. He had a disgusted horror of himself that, as he + looked at the level sea of mist at his feet, faded quickly into dull + indifference. It was like a sudden and final decrepitude of his senses, of + his body, of his thoughts. Standing on the high platform, he looked over + the expanse of low night fog above which, here and there, stood out the + feathery heads of tall bamboo clumps and the round tops of single trees, + resembling small islets emerging black and solid from a ghostly and + impalpable sea. Upon the faintly luminous background of the eastern sky, + the sombre line of the great forests bounded that smooth sea of white + vapours with an appearance of a fantastic and unattainable shore. + </p> + <p> + He looked without seeing anything—thinking of himself. Before his + eyes the light of the rising sun burst above the forest with the + suddenness of an explosion. He saw nothing. Then, after a time, he + murmured with conviction—speaking half aloud to himself in the shock + of the penetrating thought: + </p> + <p> + “I am a lost man.” + </p> + <p> + He shook his hand above his head in a gesture careless and tragic, then + walked down into the mist that closed above him in shining undulations + under the first breath of the morning breeze. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + Willems moved languidly towards the river, then retraced his steps to the + tree and let himself fall on the seat under its shade. On the other side + of the immense trunk he could hear the old woman moving about, sighing + loudly, muttering to herself, snapping dry sticks, blowing up the fire. + After a while a whiff of smoke drifted round to where he sat. It made him + feel hungry, and that feeling was like a new indignity added to an + intolerable load of humiliations. He felt inclined to cry. He felt very + weak. He held up his arm before his eyes and watched for a little while + the trembling of the lean limb. Skin and bone, by God! How thin he was! . + . . He had suffered from fever a good deal, and now he thought with + tearful dismay that Lingard, although he had sent him food—and what + food, great Lord: a little rice and dried fish; quite unfit for a white + man—had not sent him any medicine. Did the old savage think that he + was like the wild beasts that are never ill? He wanted quinine. + </p> + <p> + He leaned the back of his head against the tree and closed his eyes. He + thought feebly that if he could get hold of Lingard he would like to flay + him alive; but it was only a blurred, a short and a passing thought. His + imagination, exhausted by the repeated delineations of his own fate, had + not enough strength left to grip the idea of revenge. He was not indignant + and rebellious. He was cowed. He was cowed by the immense cataclysm of his + disaster. Like most men, he had carried solemnly within his breast the + whole universe, and the approaching end of all things in the destruction + of his own personality filled him with paralyzing awe. Everything was + toppling over. He blinked his eyes quickly, and it seemed to him that the + very sunshine of the morning disclosed in its brightness a suggestion of + some hidden and sinister meaning. In his unreasoning fear he tried to hide + within himself. He drew his feet up, his head sank between his shoulders, + his arms hugged his sides. Under the high and enormous tree soaring + superbly out of the mist in a vigorous spread of lofty boughs, with a + restless and eager flutter of its innumerable leaves in the clear + sunshine, he remained motionless, huddled up on his seat: terrified and + still. + </p> + <p> + Willems’ gaze roamed over the ground, and then he watched with idiotic + fixity half a dozen black ants entering courageously a tuft of long grass + which, to them, must have appeared a dark and a dangerous jungle. Suddenly + he thought: There must be something dead in there. Some dead insect. Death + everywhere! He closed his eyes again in an access of trembling pain. Death + everywhere—wherever one looks. He did not want to see the ants. He + did not want to see anybody or anything. He sat in the darkness of his own + making, reflecting bitterly that there was no peace for him. He heard + voices now. . . . Illusion! Misery! Torment! Who would come? Who would + speak to him? What business had he to hear voices? . . . yet he heard them + faintly, from the river. Faintly, as if shouted far off over there, came + the words “We come back soon.” . . . Delirium and mockery! Who would come + back? Nobody ever comes back! Fever comes back. He had it on him this + morning. That was it. . . . He heard unexpectedly the old woman muttering + something near by. She had come round to his side of the tree. He opened + his eyes and saw her bent back before him. She stood, with her hand + shading her eyes, looking towards the landing-place. Then she glided away. + She had seen—and now she was going back to her cooking; a woman + incurious; expecting nothing; without fear and without hope. + </p> + <p> + She had gone back behind the tree, and now Willems could see a human + figure on the path to the landing-place. It appeared to him to be a woman, + in a red gown, holding some heavy bundle in her arms; it was an apparition + unexpected, familiar and odd. He cursed through his teeth . . . It had + wanted only this! See things like that in broad daylight! He was very bad—very + bad. . . . He was horribly scared at this awful symptom of the desperate + state of his health. + </p> + <p> + This scare lasted for the space of a flash of lightning, and in the next + moment it was revealed to him that the woman was real; that she was coming + towards him; that she was his wife! He put his feet down to the ground + quickly, but made no other movement. His eyes opened wide. He was so + amazed that for a time he absolutely forgot his own existence. The only + idea in his head was: Why on earth did she come here? + </p> + <p> + Joanna was coming up the courtyard with eager, hurried steps. She carried + in her arms the child, wrapped up in one of Almayer’s white blankets that + she had snatched off the bed at the last moment, before leaving the house. + She seemed to be dazed by the sun in her eyes; bewildered by her strange + surroundings. She moved on, looking quickly right and left in impatient + expectation of seeing her husband at any moment. Then, approaching the + tree, she perceived suddenly a kind of a dried-up, yellow corpse, sitting + very stiff on a bench in the shade and looking at her with big eyes that + were alive. That was her husband. + </p> + <p> + She stopped dead short. They stared at one another in profound stillness, + with astounded eyes, with eyes maddened by the memories of things far off + that seemed lost in the lapse of time. Their looks crossed, passed each + other, and appeared to dart at them through fantastic distances, to come + straight from the incredible. + </p> + <p> + Looking at him steadily she came nearer, and deposited the blanket with + the child in it on the bench. Little Louis, after howling with terror in + the darkness of the river most of the night, now slept soundly and did not + wake. Willems’ eyes followed his wife, his head turning slowly after her. + He accepted her presence there with a tired acquiescence in its fabulous + improbability. Anything might happen. What did she come for? She was part + of the general scheme of his misfortune. He half expected that she would + rush at him, pull his hair, and scratch his face. Why not? Anything might + happen! In an exaggerated sense of his great bodily weakness he felt + somewhat apprehensive of possible assault. At any rate, she would scream + at him. He knew her of old. She could screech. He had thought that he was + rid of her for ever. She came now probably to see the end. . . . + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she turned, and embracing him slid gently to the ground. + </p> + <p> + This startled him. With her forehead on his knees she sobbed noiselessly. + He looked down dismally at the top of her head. What was she up to? He had + not the strength to move—to get away. He heard her whispering + something, and bent over to listen. He caught the word “Forgive.” + </p> + <p> + That was what she came for! All that way. Women are queer. Forgive. Not + he! . . . All at once this thought darted through his brain: How did she + come? In a boat. Boat! boat! + </p> + <p> + He shouted “Boat!” and jumped up, knocking her over. Before she had time + to pick herself up he pounced upon her and was dragging her up by the + shoulders. No sooner had she regained her feet than she clasped him + tightly round the neck, covering his face, his eyes, his mouth, his nose + with desperate kisses. He dodged his head about, shaking her arms, trying + to keep her off, to speak, to ask her. . . . She came in a boat, boat, + boat! . . . They struggled and swung round, tramping in a semicircle. He + blurted out, “Leave off. Listen,” while he tore at her hands. This meeting + of lawful love and sincere joy resembled fight. Louis Willems slept + peacefully under his blanket. + </p> + <p> + At last Willems managed to free himself, and held her off, pressing her + arms down. He looked at her. He had half a suspicion that he was dreaming. + Her lips trembled; her eyes wandered unsteadily, always coming back to his + face. He saw her the same as ever, in his presence. She appeared startled, + tremulous, ready to cry. She did not inspire him with confidence. He + shouted— + </p> + <p> + “How did you come?” + </p> + <p> + She answered in hurried words, looking at him intently— + </p> + <p> + “In a big canoe with three men. I know everything. Lingard’s away. I come + to save you. I know. . . . Almayer told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Canoe!—Almayer—Lies. Told you—You!” stammered Willems + in a distracted manner. “Why you?—Told what?” + </p> + <p> + Words failed him. He stared at his wife, thinking with fear that she—stupid + woman—had been made a tool in some plan of treachery . . . in some + deadly plot. + </p> + <p> + She began to cry— + </p> + <p> + “Don’t look at me like that, Peter. What have I done? I come to beg—to + beg—forgiveness. . . . Save—Lingard—danger.” + </p> + <p> + He trembled with impatience, with hope, with fear. She looked at him and + sobbed out in a fresh outburst of grief— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Peter. What’s the matter?—Are you ill? . . . Oh! you look so + ill . . .” + </p> + <p> + He shook her violently into a terrified and wondering silence. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you!—I am well—perfectly well. . . . Where’s that + boat? Will you tell me where that boat is—at last? The boat, I say . + . . You! . . .” + </p> + <p> + “You hurt me,” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + He let her go, and, mastering her terror, she stood quivering and looking + at him with strange intensity. Then she made a movement forward, but he + lifted his finger, and she restrained herself with a long sigh. He calmed + down suddenly and surveyed her with cold criticism, with the same + appearance as when, in the old days, he used to find fault with the + household expenses. She found a kind of fearful delight in this abrupt + return into the past, into her old subjection. + </p> + <p> + He stood outwardly collected now, and listened to her disconnected story. + Her words seemed to fall round him with the distracting clatter of + stunning hail. He caught the meaning here and there, and straightway would + lose himself in a tremendous effort to shape out some intelligible theory + of events. There was a boat. A boat. A big boat that could take him to sea + if necessary. That much was clear. She brought it. Why did Almayer lie to + her so? Was it a plan to decoy him into some ambush? Better that than + hopeless solitude. She had money. The men were ready to go anywhere . . . + she said. + </p> + <p> + He interrupted her— + </p> + <p> + “Where are they now?” + </p> + <p> + “They are coming directly,” she answered, tearfully. “Directly. There are + some fishing stakes near here—they said. They are coming directly.” + </p> + <p> + Again she was talking and sobbing together. She wanted to be forgiven. + Forgiven? What for? Ah! the scene in Macassar. As if he had time to think + of that! What did he care what she had done months ago? He seemed to + struggle in the toils of complicated dreams where everything was + impossible, yet a matter of course, where the past took the aspects of the + future and the present lay heavy on his heart—seemed to take him by + the throat like the hand of an enemy. And while she begged, entreated, + kissed his hands, wept on his shoulder, adjured him in the name of God, to + forgive, to forget, to speak the word for which she longed, to look at his + boy, to believe in her sorrow and in her devotion—his eyes, in the + fascinated immobility of shining pupils, looked far away, far beyond her, + beyond the river, beyond this land, through days, weeks, months; looked + into liberty, into the future, into his triumph . . . into the great + possibility of a startling revenge. + </p> + <p> + He felt a sudden desire to dance and shout. He shouted— + </p> + <p> + “After all, we shall meet again, Captain Lingard.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! No!” she cried, joining her hands. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with surprise. He had forgotten she was there till the + break of her cry in the monotonous tones of her prayer recalled him into + that courtyard from the glorious turmoil of his dreams. It was very + strange to see her there—near him. He felt almost affectionate + towards her. After all, she came just in time. Then he thought: That other + one. I must get away without a scene. Who knows; she may be dangerous! . . + . And all at once he felt he hated Aissa with an immense hatred that + seemed to choke him. He said to his wife— + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment.” + </p> + <p> + She, obedient, seemed to gulp down some words which wanted to come out. He + muttered: “Stay here,” and disappeared round the tree. + </p> + <p> + The water in the iron pan on the cooking fire boiled furiously, belching + out volumes of white steam that mixed with the thin black thread of smoke. + The old woman appeared to him through this as if in a fog, squatting on + her heels, impassive and weird. + </p> + <p> + Willems came up near and asked, “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + The woman did not even lift her head, but answered at once, readily, as + though she had expected the question for a long time. + </p> + <p> + “While you were asleep under the tree, before the strange canoe came, she + went out of the house. I saw her look at you and pass on with a great + light in her eyes. A great light. And she went towards the place where our + master Lakamba had his fruit trees. When we were many here. Many, many. + Men with arms by their side. Many . . . men. And talk . . . and songs . . + .” + </p> + <p> + She went on like that, raving gently to herself for a long time after + Willems had left her. + </p> + <p> + Willems went back to his wife. He came up close to her and found he had + nothing to say. Now all his faculties were concentrated upon his wish to + avoid Aissa. She might stay all the morning in that grove. Why did those + rascally boatmen go? He had a physical repugnance to set eyes on her. And + somewhere, at the very bottom of his heart, there was a fear of her. Why? + What could she do? Nothing on earth could stop him now. He felt strong, + reckless, pitiless, and superior to everything. He wanted to preserve + before his wife the lofty purity of his character. He thought: She does + not know. Almayer held his tongue about Aissa. But if she finds out, I am + lost. If it hadn’t been for the boy I would . . . free of both of them. . + . . The idea darted through his head. Not he! Married. . . . Swore + solemnly. No . . . sacred tie. . . . Looking on his wife, he felt for the + first time in his life something approaching remorse. Remorse, arising + from his conception of the awful nature of an oath before the altar. . . . + She mustn’t find out. . . . Oh, for that boat! He must run in and get his + revolver. Couldn’t think of trusting himself unarmed with those Bajow + fellows. Get it now while she is away. Oh, for that boat! . . . He dared + not go to the river and hail. He thought: She might hear me. . . . I’ll go + and get . . . cartridges . . . then will be all ready . . . nothing else. + No. + </p> + <p> + And while he stood meditating profoundly before he could make up his mind + to run to the house, Joanna pleaded, holding to his arm—pleaded + despairingly, broken-hearted, hopeless whenever she glanced up at his + face, which to her seemed to wear the aspect of unforgiving rectitude, of + virtuous severity, of merciless justice. And she pleaded humbly—abashed + before him, before the unmoved appearance of the man she had wronged in + defiance of human and divine laws. He heard not a word of what she said + till she raised her voice in a final appeal— + </p> + <p> + “. . . Don’t you see I loved you always? They told me horrible things + about you. . . . My own mother! They told me—you have been—you + have been unfaithful to me, and I . . .” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a damned lie!” shouted Willems, waking up for a moment into + righteous indignation. + </p> + <p> + “I know! I know—Be generous.—Think of my misery since you went + away—Oh! I could have torn my tongue out. . . . I will never believe + anybody—Look at the boy—Be merciful—I could never rest + till I found you. . . . Say—a word—one word. . .” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil do you want?” exclaimed Willems, looking towards the + river. “Where’s that damned boat? Why did you let them go away? You + stupid!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Peter!—I know that in your heart you have forgiven me—You + are so generous—I want to hear you say so. . . . Tell me—do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes!” said Willems, impatiently. “I forgive you. Don’t be a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go away. Don’t leave me alone here. Where is the danger? I am so + frightened. . . . Are you alone here? Sure? . . . Let us go away!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s sense,” said Willems, still looking anxiously towards the river. + </p> + <p> + She sobbed gently, leaning on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He had seen above the steep bank the heads of three men glide along + smoothly. Then, where the shore shelved down to the landing-place, + appeared a big canoe which came slowly to land. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,” he went on, briskly. “I must get my revolver.” + </p> + <p> + He made a few hurried paces towards the house, but seemed to catch sight + of something, turned short round and came back to his wife. She stared at + him, alarmed by the sudden change in his face. He appeared much + discomposed. He stammered a little as he began to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Take the child. Walk down to the boat and tell them to drop it out of + sight, quick, behind the bushes. Do you hear? Quick! I will come to you + there directly. Hurry up!” + </p> + <p> + “Peter! What is it? I won’t leave you. There is some danger in this + horrible place.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you do what I tell you?” said Willems, in an irritable whisper. + </p> + <p> + “No! no! no! I won’t leave you. I will not lose you again. Tell me, what + is it?” + </p> + <p> + From beyond the house came a faint voice singing. Willems shook his wife + by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Do what I tell you! Run at once!” + </p> + <p> + She gripped his arm and clung to him desperately. He looked up to heaven + as if taking it to witness of that woman’s infernal folly. + </p> + <p> + The song grew louder, then ceased suddenly, and Aissa appeared in sight, + walking slowly, her hands full of flowers. + </p> + <p> + She had turned the corner of the house, coming out into the full sunshine, + and the light seemed to leap upon her in a stream brilliant, tender, and + caressing, as if attracted by the radiant happiness of her face. She had + dressed herself for a festive day, for the memorable day of his return to + her, of his return to an affection that would last for ever. The rays of + the morning sun were caught by the oval clasp of the embroidered belt that + held the silk sarong round her waist. The dazzling white stuff of her body + jacket was crossed by a bar of yellow and silver of her scarf, and in the + black hair twisted high on her small head shone the round balls of gold + pins amongst crimson blossoms and white star-shaped flowers, with which + she had crowned herself to charm his eyes; those eyes that were henceforth + to see nothing in the world but her own resplendent image. And she moved + slowly, bending her face over the mass of pure white champakas and jasmine + pressed to her breast, in a dreamy intoxication of sweet scents and of + sweeter hopes. + </p> + <p> + She did not seem to see anything, stopped for a moment at the foot of the + plankway leading to the house, then, leaving her high-heeled wooden + sandals there, ascended the planks in a light run; straight, graceful, + flexible, and noiseless, as if she had soared up to the door on invisible + wings. Willems pushed his wife roughly behind the tree, and made up his + mind quickly for a rush to the house, to grab his revolver and . . . + Thoughts, doubts, expedients seemed to boil in his brain. He had a + flashing vision of delivering a stunning blow, of tying up that flower + bedecked woman in the dark house—a vision of things done swiftly + with enraged haste—to save his prestige, his superiority—something + of immense importance. . . . He had not made two steps when Joanna bounded + after him, caught the back of his ragged jacket, tore out a big piece, and + instantly hooked herself with both hands to the collar, nearly dragging + him down on his back. Although taken by surprise, he managed to keep his + feet. From behind she panted into his ear— + </p> + <p> + “That woman! Who’s that woman? Ah! that’s what those boatmen were talking + about. I heard them . . . heard them . . . heard . . . in the night. They + spoke about some woman. I dared not understand. I would not ask . . . + listen . . . believe! How could I? Then it’s true. No. Say no. . . . Who’s + that woman?” + </p> + <p> + He swayed, tugging forward. She jerked at him till the button gave way, + and then he slipped half out of his jacket and, turning round, remained + strangely motionless. His heart seemed to beat in his throat. He choked—tried + to speak—could not find any words. He thought with fury: I will kill + both of them. + </p> + <p> + For a second nothing moved about the courtyard in the great vivid + clearness of the day. Only down by the landing-place a waringan-tree, all + in a blaze of clustering red berries, seemed alive with the stir of little + birds that filled with the feverish flutter of their feathers the tangle + of overloaded branches. Suddenly the variegated flock rose spinning in a + soft whirr and dispersed, slashing the sunlit haze with the sharp outlines + of stiffened wings. Mahmat and one of his brothers appeared coming up from + the landing-place, their lances in their hands, to look for their + passengers. + </p> + <p> + Aissa coming now empty-handed out of the house, caught sight of the two + armed men. In her surprise she emitted a faint cry, vanished back and in a + flash reappeared in the doorway with Willems’ revolver in her hand. To her + the presence of any man there could only have an ominous meaning. There + was nothing in the outer world but enemies. She and the man she loved were + alone, with nothing round them but menacing dangers. She did not mind + that, for if death came, no matter from what hand, they would die + together. + </p> + <p> + Her resolute eyes took in the courtyard in a circular glance. She noticed + that the two strangers had ceased to advance and now were standing close + together leaning on the polished shafts of their weapons. The next moment + she saw Willems, with his back towards her, apparently struggling under + the tree with some one. She saw nothing distinctly, and, unhesitating, + flew down the plankway calling out: “I come!” + </p> + <p> + He heard her cry, and with an unexpected rush drove his wife backwards to + the seat. She fell on it; he jerked himself altogether out of his jacket, + and she covered her face with the soiled rags. He put his lips close to + her, asking— + </p> + <p> + “For the last time, will you take the child and go?” + </p> + <p> + She groaned behind the unclean ruins of his upper garment. She mumbled + something. He bent lower to hear. She was saying— + </p> + <p> + “I won’t. Order that woman away. I can’t look at her!” + </p> + <p> + “You fool!” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to spit the words at her, then, making up his mind, spun round + to face Aissa. She was coming towards them slowly now, with a look of + unbounded amazement on her face. Then she stopped and stared at him—who + stood there, stripped to the waist, bare-headed and sombre. + </p> + <p> + Some way off, Mahmat and his brother exchanged rapid words in calm + undertones. . . . This was the strong daughter of the holy man who had + died. The white man is very tall. There would be three women and the child + to take in the boat, besides that white man who had the money . . . . The + brother went away back to the boat, and Mahmat remained looking on. He + stood like a sentinel, the leaf-shaped blade of his lance glinting above + his head. + </p> + <p> + Willems spoke suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Give me this,” he said, stretching his hand towards the revolver. + </p> + <p> + Aissa stepped back. Her lips trembled. She said very low: “Your people?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded slightly. She shook her head thoughtfully, and a few delicate + petals of the flowers dying in her hair fell like big drops of crimson and + white at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Willems. “They sent for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell them to depart. They are accursed. What is there between them and + you—and you who carry my life in your heart!” + </p> + <p> + Willems said nothing. He stood before her looking down on the ground and + repeating to himself: I must get that revolver away from her, at once, at + once. I can’t think of trusting myself with those men without firearms. I + must have it. + </p> + <p> + She asked, after gazing in silence at Joanna, who was sobbing gently— + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “My wife,” answered Willems, without looking up. “My wife according to our + white law, which comes from God!” + </p> + <p> + “Your law! Your God!” murmured Aissa, contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “Give me this revolver,” said Willems, in a peremptory tone. He felt an + unwillingness to close with her, to get it by force. + </p> + <p> + She took no notice and went on— + </p> + <p> + “Your law . . . or your lies? What am I to believe? I came—I ran to + defend you when I saw the strange men. You lied to me with your lips, with + your eyes. You crooked heart! . . . Ah!” she added, after an abrupt pause. + “She is the first! Am I then to be a slave?” + </p> + <p> + “You may be what you like,” said Willems, brutally. “I am going.” + </p> + <p> + Her gaze was fastened on the blanket under which she had detected a slight + movement. She made a long stride towards it. Willems turned half round. + His legs seemed to him to be made of lead. He felt faint and so weak that, + for a moment, the fear of dying there where he stood, before he could + escape from sin and disaster, passed through his mind in a wave of + despair. + </p> + <p> + She lifted up one corner of the blanket, and when she saw the sleeping + child a sudden quick shudder shook her as though she had seen something + inexpressibly horrible. She looked at Louis Willems with eyes fixed in an + unbelieving and terrified stare. Then her fingers opened slowly, and a + shadow seemed to settle on her face as if something obscure and fatal had + come between her and the sunshine. She stood looking down, absorbed, as + though she had watched at the bottom of a gloomy abyss the mournful + procession of her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Willems did not move. All his faculties were concentrated upon the idea of + his release. And it was only then that the assurance of it came to him + with such force that he seemed to hear a loud voice shouting in the + heavens that all was over, that in another five, ten minutes, he would + step into another existence; that all this, the woman, the madness, the + sin, the regrets, all would go, rush into the past, disappear, become as + dust, as smoke, as drifting clouds—as nothing! Yes! All would vanish + in the unappeasable past which would swallow up all—even the very + memory of his temptation and of his downfall. Nothing mattered. He cared + for nothing. He had forgotten Aissa, his wife, Lingard, Hudig—everybody, + in the rapid vision of his hopeful future. + </p> + <p> + After a while he heard Aissa saying— + </p> + <p> + “A child! A child! What have I done to be made to devour this sorrow and + this grief? And while your man-child and the mother lived you told me + there was nothing for you to remember in the land from which you came! And + I thought you could be mine. I thought that I would . . .” + </p> + <p> + Her voice ceased in a broken murmur, and with it, in her heart, seemed to + die the greater and most precious hope of her new life. + </p> + <p> + She had hoped that in the future the frail arms of a child would bind + their two lives together in a bond which nothing on earth could break, a + bond of affection, of gratitude, of tender respect. She the first—the + only one! But in the instant she saw the son of that other woman she felt + herself removed into the cold, the darkness, the silence of a solitude + impenetrable and immense—very far from him, beyond the possibility + of any hope, into an infinity of wrongs without any redress. + </p> + <p> + She strode nearer to Joanna. She felt towards that woman anger, envy, + jealousy. Before her she felt humiliated and enraged. She seized the + hanging sleeve of the jacket in which Joanna was hiding her face and tore + it out of her hands, exclaiming loudly— + </p> + <p> + “Let me see the face of her before whom I am only a servant and a slave. + Ya-wa! I see you!” + </p> + <p> + Her unexpected shout seemed to fill the sunlit space of cleared grounds, + rise high and run on far into the land over the unstirring tree-tops of + the forests. She stood in sudden stillness, looking at Joanna with + surprised contempt. + </p> + <p> + “A Sirani woman!” she said, slowly, in a tone of wonder. + </p> + <p> + Joanna rushed at Willems—clung to him, shrieking: “Defend me, Peter! + Defend me from that woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet. There is no danger,” muttered Willems, thickly. + </p> + <p> + Aissa looked at them with scorn. “God is great! I sit in the dust at your + feet,” she exclaimed jeeringly, joining her hands above her head in a + gesture of mock humility. “Before you I am as nothing.” She turned to + Willems fiercely, opening her arms wide. “What have you made of me?” she + cried, “you lying child of an accursed mother! What have you made of me? + The slave of a slave. Don’t speak! Your words are worse than the poison of + snakes. A Sirani woman. A woman of a people despised by all.” + </p> + <p> + She pointed her finger at Joanna, stepped back, and began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Make her stop, Peter!” screamed Joanna. “That heathen woman. Heathen! + Heathen! Beat her, Peter.” + </p> + <p> + Willems caught sight of the revolver which Aissa had laid on the seat near + the child. He spoke in Dutch to his wife, without moving his head. + </p> + <p> + “Snatch the boy—and my revolver there. See. Run to the boat. I will + keep her back. Now’s the time.” + </p> + <p> + Aissa came nearer. She stared at Joanna, while between the short gusts of + broken laughter she raved, fumbling distractedly at the buckle of her + belt. + </p> + <p> + “To her! To her—the mother of him who will speak of your wisdom, of + your courage. All to her. I have nothing. Nothing. Take, take.” + </p> + <p> + She tore the belt off and threw it at Joanna’s feet. She flung down with + haste the armlets, the gold pins, the flowers; and the long hair, + released, fell scattered over her shoulders, framing in its blackness the + wild exaltation of her face. + </p> + <p> + “Drive her off, Peter. Drive off the heathen savage,” persisted Joanna. + She seemed to have lost her head altogether. She stamped, clinging to + Willems’ arm with both her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” cried Aissa. “Look at the mother of your son! She is afraid. Why + does she not go from before my face? Look at her. She is ugly.” + </p> + <p> + Joanna seemed to understand the scornful tone of the words. As Aissa + stepped back again nearer to the tree she let go her husband’s arm, rushed + at her madly, slapped her face, then, swerving round, darted at the child + who, unnoticed, had been wailing for some time, and, snatching him up, + flew down to the waterside, sending shriek after shriek in an access of + insane terror. + </p> + <p> + Willems made for the revolver. Aissa passed swiftly, giving him an + unexpected push that sent him staggering away from the tree. She caught up + the weapon, put it behind her back, and cried— + </p> + <p> + “You shall not have it. Go after her. Go to meet danger. . . . Go to meet + death. . . . Go unarmed. . . . Go with empty hands and sweet words . . . + as you came to me. . . . Go helpless and lie to the forests, to the sea . + . . to the death that waits for you. . . .” + </p> + <p> + She ceased as if strangled. She saw in the horror of the passing seconds + the half-naked, wild-looking man before her; she heard the faint + shrillness of Joanna’s insane shrieks for help somewhere down by the + riverside. The sunlight streamed on her, on him, on the mute land, on the + murmuring river—the gentle brilliance of a serene morning that, to + her, seemed traversed by ghastly flashes of uncertain darkness. Hate + filled the world, filled the space between them—the hate of race, + the hate of hopeless diversity, the hate of blood; the hate against the + man born in the land of lies and of evil from which nothing but misfortune + comes to those who are not white. And as she stood, maddened, she heard a + whisper near her, the whisper of the dead Omar’s voice saying in her ear: + “Kill! Kill!” + </p> + <p> + She cried, seeing him move— + </p> + <p> + “Do not come near me . . . or you die now! Go while I remember yet . . . + remember. . . .” + </p> + <p> + Willems pulled himself together for a struggle. He dared not go unarmed. + He made a long stride, and saw her raise the revolver. He noticed that she + had not cocked it, and said to himself that, even if she did fire, she + would surely miss. Go too high; it was a stiff trigger. He made a step + nearer—saw the long barrel moving unsteadily at the end of her + extended arm. He thought: This is my time . . . He bent his knees + slightly, throwing his body forward, and took off with a long bound for a + tearing rush. + </p> + <p> + He saw a burst of red flame before his eyes, and was deafened by a report + that seemed to him louder than a clap of thunder. Something stopped him + short, and he stood aspiring in his nostrils the acrid smell of the blue + smoke that drifted from before his eyes like an immense cloud. . . . + Missed, by Heaven! . . . Thought so! . . . And he saw her very far off, + throwing her arms up, while the revolver, very small, lay on the ground + between them. . . . Missed! . . . He would go and pick it up now. Never + before did he understand, as in that second, the joy, the triumphant + delight of sunshine and of life. His mouth was full of something salt and + warm. He tried to cough; spat out. . . . Who shrieks: In the name of God, + he dies!—he dies!—Who dies?—Must pick up—Night!—What? + . . . Night already. . . . + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + Many years afterwards Almayer was telling the story of the great + revolution in Sambir to a chance visitor from Europe. He was a Roumanian, + half naturalist, half orchid-hunter for commercial purposes, who used to + declare to everybody, in the first five minutes of acquaintance, his + intention of writing a scientific book about tropical countries. On his + way to the interior he had quartered himself upon Almayer. He was a man of + some education, but he drank his gin neat, or only, at most, would squeeze + the juice of half a small lime into the raw spirit. He said it was good + for his health, and, with that medicine before him, he would describe to + the surprised Almayer the wonders of European capitals; while Almayer, in + exchange, bored him by expounding, with gusto, his unfavourable opinions + of Sambir’s social and political life. They talked far into the night, + across the deal table on the verandah, while, between them, clear-winged, + small, and flabby insects, dissatisfied with moonlight, streamed in and + perished in thousands round the smoky light of the evil-smelling lamp. + </p> + <p> + Almayer, his face flushed, was saying— + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I did not see that. I told you I was stuck in the creek on + account of father’s—Captain Lingard’s—susceptible temper. I am + sure I did it all for the best in trying to facilitate the fellow’s + escape; but Captain Lingard was that kind of man—you know—one + couldn’t argue with. Just before sunset the water was high enough, and we + got out of the creek. We got to Lakamba’s clearing about dark. All very + quiet; I thought they were gone, of course, and felt very glad. We walked + up the courtyard—saw a big heap of something lying in the middle. + Out of that she rose and rushed at us. By God. . . . You know those + stories of faithful dogs watching their masters’ corpses . . . don’t let + anybody approach . . . got to beat them off—and all that. . . . + Well, ‘pon my word we had to beat her off. Had to! She was like a fury. + Wouldn’t let us touch him. Dead—of course. Should think so. Shot + through the lung, on the left side, rather high up, and at pretty close + quarters too, for the two holes were small. Bullet came out through the + shoulder-blade. After we had overpowered her—you can’t imagine how + strong that woman was; it took three of us—we got the body into the + boat and shoved off. We thought she had fainted then, but she got up and + rushed into the water after us. Well, I let her clamber in. What could I + do? The river’s full of alligators. I will never forget that pull + up-stream in the night as long as I live. She sat in the bottom of the + boat, holding his head in her lap, and now and again wiping his face with + her hair. There was a lot of blood dried about his mouth and chin. And for + all the six hours of that journey she kept on whispering tenderly to that + corpse! . . . I had the mate of the schooner with me. The man said + afterwards that he wouldn’t go through it again—not for a handful of + diamonds. And I believed him—I did. It makes me shiver. Do you think + he heard? No! I mean somebody—something—heard? . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I am a materialist,” declared the man of science, tilting the bottle + shakily over the emptied glass. + </p> + <p> + Almayer shook his head and went on— + </p> + <p> + “Nobody saw how it really happened but that man Mahmat. He always said + that he was no further off from them than two lengths of his lance. It + appears the two women rowed each other while that Willems stood between + them. Then Mahmat says that when Joanna struck her and ran off, the other + two seemed to become suddenly mad together. They rushed here and there. + Mahmat says—those were his very words: ‘I saw her standing holding + the pistol that fires many times and pointing it all over the campong. I + was afraid—lest she might shoot me, and jumped on one side. Then I + saw the white man coming at her swiftly. He came like our master the tiger + when he rushes out of the jungle at the spears held by men. She did not + take aim. The barrel of her weapon went like this—from side to side, + but in her eyes I could see suddenly a great fear. There was only one + shot. She shrieked while the white man stood blinking his eyes and very + straight, till you could count slowly one, two, three; then he coughed and + fell on his face. The daughter of Omar shrieked without drawing breath, + till he fell. I went away then and left silence behind me. These things + did not concern me, and in my boat there was that other woman who had + promised me money. We left directly, paying no attention to her cries. We + are only poor men—and had but a small reward for our trouble!’ + That’s what Mahmat said. Never varied. You ask him yourself. He’s the man + you hired the boats from, for your journey up the river.” + </p> + <p> + “The most rapacious thief I ever met!” exclaimed the traveller, thickly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! He is a respectable man. His two brothers got themselves speared—served + them right. They went in for robbing Dyak graves. Gold ornaments in them + you know. Serve them right. But he kept respectable and got on. Aye! + Everybody got on—but I. And all through that scoundrel who brought + the Arabs here.” + </p> + <p> + “De mortuis nil ni . . . num,” muttered Almayer’s guest. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would speak English instead of jabbering in your own language, + which no one can understand,” said Almayer, sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be angry,” hiccoughed the other. “It’s Latin, and it’s wisdom. It + means: Don’t waste your breath in abusing shadows. No offence there. I + like you. You have a quarrel with Providence—so have I. I was meant + to be a professor, while—look.” + </p> + <p> + His head nodded. He sat grasping the glass. Almayer walked up and down, + then stopped suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they all got on but I. Why? I am better than any of them. Lakamba + calls himself a Sultan, and when I go to see him on business sends that + one-eyed fiend of his—Babalatchi—to tell me that the ruler is + asleep; and shall sleep for a long time. And that Babalatchi! He is the + Shahbandar of the State—if you please. Oh Lord! Shahbandar! The pig! + A vagabond I wouldn’t let come up these steps when he first came here. . . + . Look at Abdulla now. He lives here because—he says—here he + is away from white men. But he has hundreds of thousands. Has a house in + Penang. Ships. What did he not have when he stole my trade from me! He + knocked everything here into a cocked hat, drove father to gold-hunting—then + to Europe, where he disappeared. Fancy a man like Captain Lingard + disappearing as though he had been a common coolie. Friends of mine wrote + to London asking about him. Nobody ever heard of him there! Fancy! Never + heard of Captain Lingard!” + </p> + <p> + The learned gatherer of orchids lifted his head. + </p> + <p> + “He was a sen—sentimen—tal old buc—buccaneer,” he + stammered out, “I like him. I’m sent—tal myself.” + </p> + <p> + He winked slowly at Almayer, who laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I told you about that gravestone. Yes! Another hundred and twenty + dollars thrown away. Wish I had them now. He would do it. And the + inscription. Ha! ha! ha! ‘Peter Willems, Delivered by the Mercy of God + from his Enemy.’ What enemy—unless Captain Lingard himself? And then + it has no sense. He was a great man—father was—but strange in + many ways. . . . You haven’t seen the grave? On the top of that hill, + there, on the other side of the river. I must show you. We will go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” said the other. “No interest—in the sun—too tiring. . + . . Unless you carry me there.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact he was carried there a few months afterwards, and his + was the second white man’s grave in Sambir; but at present he was alive if + rather drunk. He asked abruptly— + </p> + <p> + “And the woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Lingard, of course, kept her and her ugly brat in Macassar. Sinful + waste of money—that! Devil only knows what became of them since + father went home. I had my daughter to look after. I shall give you a word + to Mrs. Vinck in Singapore when you go back. You shall see my Nina there. + Lucky man. She is beautiful, and I hear so accomplished, so . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard already twenty . . . a hundred times about your daughter. + What ab—about—that—that other one, Ai—ssa?” + </p> + <p> + “She! Oh! we kept her here. She was mad for a long time in a quiet sort of + way. Father thought a lot of her. He gave her a house to live in, in my + campong. She wandered about, speaking to nobody unless she caught sight of + Abdulla, when she would have a fit of fury, and shriek and curse like + anything. Very often she would disappear—and then we all had to turn + out and hunt for her, because father would worry till she was brought + back. Found her in all kinds of places. Once in the abandoned campong of + Lakamba. Sometimes simply wandering in the bush. She had one favourite + spot we always made for at first. It was ten to one on finding her there—a + kind of a grassy glade on the banks of a small brook. Why she preferred + that place, I can’t imagine! And such a job to get her away from there. + Had to drag her away by main force. Then, as the time passed, she became + quieter and more settled, like. Still, all my people feared her greatly. + It was my Nina that tamed her. You see the child was naturally fearless + and used to have her own way, so she would go to her and pull at her + sarong, and order her about, as she did everybody. Finally she, I verily + believe, came to love the child. Nothing could resist that little one—you + know. She made a capital nurse. Once when the little devil ran away from + me and fell into the river off the end of the jetty, she jumped in and + pulled her out in no time. I very nearly died of fright. Now of course she + lives with my serving girls, but does what she likes. As long as I have a + handful of rice or a piece of cotton in the store she sha’n’t want for + anything. You have seen her. She brought in the dinner with Ali.” + </p> + <p> + “What! That doubled-up crone?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Almayer. “They age quickly here. And long foggy nights spent in + the bush will soon break the strongest backs—as you will find out + yourself soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Dis . . . disgusting,” growled the traveller. + </p> + <p> + He dozed off. Almayer stood by the balustrade looking out at the bluish + sheen of the moonlit night. The forests, unchanged and sombre, seemed to + hang over the water, listening to the unceasing whisper of the great + river; and above their dark wall the hill on which Lingard had buried the + body of his late prisoner rose in a black, rounded mass, upon the silver + paleness of the sky. Almayer looked for a long time at the clean-cut + outline of the summit, as if trying to make out through darkness and + distance the shape of that expensive tombstone. When he turned round at + last he saw his guest sleeping, his arms on the table, his head on his + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here!” he shouted, slapping the table with the palm of his + hand. + </p> + <p> + The naturalist woke up, and sat all in a heap, staring owlishly. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” went on Almayer, speaking very loud and thumping the table, “I + want to know. You, who say you have read all the books, just tell me . . . + why such infernal things are ever allowed. Here I am! Done harm to nobody, + lived an honest life . . . and a scoundrel like that is born in Rotterdam + or some such place at the other end of the world somewhere, travels out + here, robs his employer, runs away from his wife, and ruins me and my Nina—he + ruined me, I tell you—and gets himself shot at last by a poor + miserable savage, that knows nothing at all about him really. Where’s the + sense of all this? Where’s your Providence? Where’s the good for anybody + in all this? The world’s a swindle! A swindle! Why should I suffer? What + have I done to be treated so?” + </p> + <p> + He howled out his string of questions, and suddenly became silent. The man + who ought to have been a professor made a tremendous effort to articulate + distinctly— + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, don’t—don’t you see that the ba-bare fac—the + fact of your existence is off—offensive. . . . I—I like you—like + . . .” + </p> + <p> + He fell forward on the table, and ended his remarks by an unexpected and + prolonged snore. + </p> + <p> + Almayer shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the balustrade. + </p> + <p> + He drank his own trade gin very seldom, but when he did, a ridiculously + small quantity of the stuff could induce him to assume a rebellious + attitude towards the scheme of the universe. And now, throwing his body + over the rail, he shouted impudently into the night, turning his face + towards that far-off and invisible slab of imported granite upon which + Lingard had thought fit to record God’s mercy and Willems’ escape. + </p> + <p> + “Father was wrong—wrong!” he yelled. “I want you to smart for it. + You must smart for it! Where are you, Willems? Hey? . . . Hey? . . . Where + there is no mercy for you—I hope!” + </p> + <p> + “Hope,” repeated in a whispering echo the startled forests, the river and + the hills; and Almayer, who stood waiting, with a smile of tipsy attention + on his lips, heard no other answer. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s An Outcast of the Islands, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS *** + +***** This file should be named 638-h.htm or 638-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/638/ + +Produced by Judith 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: An Outcast of the Islands + +Author: Joseph Conrad + +Release Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #638] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +by Joseph Conrad + + + + + +_Pues el delito mayor Del hombre es haber nacito_ CALDERON + + + +TO EDWARD LANCELOT SANDERSON + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE + +"An Outcast of the Islands" is my second novel in the absolute sense of +the word; second in conception, second in execution, second as it were +in its essence. There was no hesitation, half-formed plan, vague idea, +or the vaguest reverie of anything else between it and "Almayer's +Folly." The only doubt I suffered from, after the publication of +"Almayer's Folly," was whether I should write another line for print. +Those days, now grown so dim, had their poignant moments. Neither in +my mind nor in my heart had I then given up the sea. In truth I was +clinging to it desperately, all the more desperately because, against +my will, I could not help feeling that there was something changed in my +relation to it. "Almayer's Folly," had been finished and done with. The +mood itself was gone. But it had left the memory of an experience that, +both in thought and emotion was unconnected with the sea, and I suppose +that part of my moral being which is rooted in consistency was badly +shaken. I was a victim of contrary stresses which produced a state of +immobility. I gave myself up to indolence. Since it was impossible for +me to face both ways I had elected to face nothing. The discovery of +new values in life is a very chaotic experience; there is a tremendous +amount of jostling and confusion and a momentary feeling of darkness. I +let my spirit float supine over that chaos. + +A phrase of Edward Garnett's is, as a matter of fact, responsible for +this book. The first of the friends I made for myself by my pen it +was but natural that he should be the recipient, at that time, of my +confidences. One evening when we had dined together and he had listened +to the account of my perplexities (I fear he must have been growing a +little tired of them) he pointed out that there was no need to determine +my future absolutely. Then he added: "You have the style, you have the +temperament; why not write another?" I believe that as far as one man +may wish to influence another man's life Edward Garnett had a great +desire that I should go on writing. At that time, and I may say, ever +afterwards, he was always very patient and gentle with me. What strikes +me most however in the phrase quoted above which was offered to me in a +tone of detachment is not its gentleness but its effective wisdom. Had +he said, "Why not go on writing," it is very probable he would have +scared me away from pen and ink for ever; but there was nothing either +to frighten one or arouse one's antagonism in the mere suggestion to +"write another." And thus a dead point in the revolution of my affairs +was insidiously got over. The word "another" did it. At about eleven +o'clock of a nice London night, Edward and I walked along interminable +streets talking of many things, and I remember that on getting home +I sat down and wrote about half a page of "An Outcast of the Islands" +before I slept. This was committing myself definitely, I won't say to +another life, but to another book. There is apparently something in my +character which will not allow me to abandon for good any piece of work +I have begun. I have laid aside many beginnings. I have laid them aside +with sorrow, with disgust, with rage, with melancholy and even with +self-contempt; but even at the worst I had an uneasy consciousness that +I would have to go back to them. + +"An Outcast of the Islands" belongs to those novels of mine that were +never laid aside; and though it brought me the qualification of "exotic +writer" I don't think the charge was at all justified. + +For the life of me I don't see that there is the slightest exotic spirit +in the conception or style of that novel. It is certainly the most +_tropical_ of my eastern tales. The mere scenery got a great hold on +me as I went on, perhaps because (I may just as well confess that) the +story itself was never very near my heart. + +It engaged my imagination much more than my affection. As to my feeling +for Willems it was but the regard one cannot help having for one's own +creation. Obviously I could not be indifferent to a man on whose head I +had brought so much evil simply by imagining him such as he appears in +the novel--and that, too, on a very slight foundation. + +The man who suggested Willems to me was not particularly interesting in +himself. My interest was aroused by his dependent position, his strange, +dubious status of a mistrusted, disliked, worn-out European living on +the reluctant toleration of that Settlement hidden in the heart of the +forest-land, up that sombre stream which our ship was the only white +men's ship to visit. With his hollow, clean-shaved cheeks, a heavy grey +moustache and eyes without any expression whatever, clad always in a +spotless sleeping suit much be-frogged in front, which left his lean +neck wholly uncovered, and with his bare feet in a pair of straw +slippers, he wandered silently amongst the houses in daylight, almost as +dumb as an animal and apparently much more homeless. I don't know +what he did with himself at night. He must have had a place, a hut, +a palm-leaf shed, some sort of hovel where he kept his razor and his +change of sleeping suits. An air of futile mystery hung over him, +something not exactly dark but obviously ugly. The only definite +statement I could extract from anybody was that it was he who had +"brought the Arabs into the river." That must have happened many years +before. But how did he bring them into the river? He could hardly have +done it in his arms like a lot of kittens. I knew that Almayer founded +the chronology of all his misfortunes on the date of that fateful +advent; and yet the very first time we dined with Almayer there was +Willems sitting at table with us in the manner of the skeleton at the +feast, obviously shunned by everybody, never addressed by any one, and +for all recognition of his existence getting now and then from Almayer +a venomous glance which I observed with great surprise. In the course +of the whole evening he ventured one single remark which I didn't catch +because his articulation was imperfect, as of a man who had forgotten +how to speak. I was the only person who seemed aware of the sound. +Willems subsided. Presently he retired, pointedly unnoticed--into the +forest maybe? Its immensity was there, within three hundred yards of +the verandah, ready to swallow up anything. Almayer conversing with my +captain did not stop talking while he glared angrily at the retreating +back. Didn't that fellow bring the Arabs into the river! Nevertheless +Willems turned up next morning on Almayer's verandah. From the bridge of +the steamer I could see plainly these two, breakfasting together, tete +a tete and, I suppose, in dead silence, one with his air of being no +longer interested in this world and the other raising his eyes now and +then with intense dislike. + +It was clear that in those days Willems lived on Almayer's charity. Yet +on returning two months later to Sambir I heard that he had gone on an +expedition up the river in charge of a steam-launch belonging to the +Arabs, to make some discovery or other. On account of the strange +reluctance that everyone manifested to talk about Willems it was +impossible for me to get at the rights of that transaction. Moreover, I +was a newcomer, the youngest of the company, and, I suspect, not judged +quite fit as yet for a full confidence. I was not much concerned about +that exclusion. The faint suggestion of plots and mysteries pertaining +to all matters touching Almayer's affairs amused me vastly. Almayer was +obviously very much affected. I believe he missed Willems immensely. He +wore an air of sinister preoccupation and talked confidentially with +my captain. I could catch only snatches of mumbled sentences. Then one +morning as I came along the deck to take my place at the breakfast table +Almayer checked himself in his low-toned discourse. My captain's face +was perfectly impenetrable. There was a moment of profound silence and +then as if unable to contain himself Almayer burst out in a loud vicious +tone: + +"One thing's certain; if he finds anything worth having up there they +will poison him like a dog." + +Disconnected though it was, that phrase, as food for thought, was +distinctly worth hearing. We left the river three days afterwards and I +never returned to Sambir; but whatever happened to the protagonist of +my Willems nobody can deny that I have recorded for him a less squalid +fate. + +J. C. 1919. + + + + +PART I + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +CHAPTER ONE + +When he stepped off the straight and narrow path of his peculiar +honesty, it was with an inward assertion of unflinching resolve to fall +back again into the monotonous but safe stride of virtue as soon as his +little excursion into the wayside quagmires had produced the desired +effect. It was going to be a short episode--a sentence in brackets, so +to speak--in the flowing tale of his life: a thing of no moment, to be +done unwillingly, yet neatly, and to be quickly forgotten. He imagined +that he could go on afterwards looking at the sunshine, enjoying the +shade, breathing in the perfume of flowers in the small garden before +his house. He fancied that nothing would be changed, that he would be +able as heretofore to tyrannize good-humouredly over his half-caste +wife, to notice with tender contempt his pale yellow child, to patronize +loftily his dark-skinned brother-in-law, who loved pink neckties and +wore patent-leather boots on his little feet, and was so humble before +the white husband of the lucky sister. Those were the delights of his +life, and he was unable to conceive that the moral significance of any +act of his could interfere with the very nature of things, could dim +the light of the sun, could destroy the perfume of the flowers, the +submission of his wife, the smile of his child, the awe-struck respect +of Leonard da Souza and of all the Da Souza family. That family's +admiration was the great luxury of his life. It rounded and completed +his existence in a perpetual assurance of unquestionable superiority. +He loved to breathe the coarse incense they offered before the shrine of +the successful white man; the man that had done them the honour to marry +their daughter, sister, cousin; the rising man sure to climb very +high; the confidential clerk of Hudig & Co. They were a numerous and an +unclean crowd, living in ruined bamboo houses, surrounded by neglected +compounds, on the outskirts of Macassar. He kept them at arm's length +and even further off, perhaps, having no illusions as to their worth. +They were a half-caste, lazy lot, and he saw them as they were--ragged, +lean, unwashed, undersized men of various ages, shuffling about +aimlessly in slippers; motionless old women who looked like monstrous +bags of pink calico stuffed with shapeless lumps of fat, and deposited +askew upon decaying rattan chairs in shady corners of dusty verandahs; +young women, slim and yellow, big-eyed, long-haired, moving languidly +amongst the dirt and rubbish of their dwellings as if every step +they took was going to be their very last. He heard their shrill +quarrellings, the squalling of their children, the grunting of their +pigs; he smelt the odours of the heaps of garbage in their courtyards: +and he was greatly disgusted. But he fed and clothed that shabby +multitude; those degenerate descendants of Portuguese conquerors; he was +their providence; he kept them singing his praises in the midst of their +laziness, of their dirt, of their immense and hopeless squalor: and he +was greatly delighted. They wanted much, but he could give them all they +wanted without ruining himself. In exchange he had their silent fear, +their loquacious love, their noisy veneration. It is a fine thing to be +a providence, and to be told so on every day of one's life. It gives one +a feeling of enormously remote superiority, and Willems revelled in +it. He did not analyze the state of his mind, but probably his greatest +delight lay in the unexpressed but intimate conviction that, should +he close his hand, all those admiring human beings would starve. His +munificence had demoralized them. An easy task. Since he descended +amongst them and married Joanna they had lost the little aptitude and +strength for work they might have had to put forth under the stress of +extreme necessity. They lived now by the grace of his will. This was +power. Willems loved it. In another, and perhaps a lower plane, his days +did not want for their less complex but more obvious pleasures. He liked +the simple games of skill--billiards; also games not so simple, and +calling for quite another kind of skill--poker. He had been the +aptest pupil of a steady-eyed, sententious American, who had drifted +mysteriously into Macassar from the wastes of the Pacific, and, after +knocking about for a time in the eddies of town life, had drifted out +enigmatically into the sunny solitudes of the Indian Ocean. The memory +of the Californian stranger was perpetuated in the game of poker--which +became popular in the capital of Celebes from that time--and in +a powerful cocktail, the recipe for which is transmitted--in the +Kwang-tung dialect--from head boy to head boy of the Chinese servants in +the Sunda Hotel even to this day. Willems was a connoisseur in the drink +and an adept at the game. Of those accomplishments he was moderately +proud. Of the confidence reposed in him by Hudig--the master--he was +boastfully and obtrusively proud. This arose from his great benevolence, +and from an exalted sense of his duty to himself and the world at large. +He experienced that irresistible impulse to impart information which is +inseparable from gross ignorance. There is always some one thing which +the ignorant man knows, and that thing is the only thing worth knowing; +it fills the ignorant man's universe. Willems knew all about himself. +On the day when, with many misgivings, he ran away from a Dutch +East-Indiaman in Samarang roads, he had commenced that study of +himself, of his own ways, of his own abilities, of those fate-compelling +qualities of his which led him toward that lucrative position which +he now filled. Being of a modest and diffident nature, his successes +amazed, almost frightened him, and ended--as he got over the succeeding +shocks of surprise--by making him ferociously conceited. He believed in +his genius and in his knowledge of the world. Others should know of it +also; for their own good and for his greater glory. All those friendly +men who slapped him on the back and greeted him noisily should have +the benefit of his example. For that he must talk. He talked to them +conscientiously. In the afternoon he expounded his theory of success +over the little tables, dipping now and then his moustache in the +crushed ice of the cocktails; in the evening he would often hold forth, +cue in hand, to a young listener across the billiard table. The billiard +balls stood still as if listening also, under the vivid brilliance of +the shaded oil lamps hung low over the cloth; while away in the shadows +of the big room the Chinaman marker would lean wearily against the +wall, the blank mask of his face looking pale under the mahogany +marking-board; his eyelids dropped in the drowsy fatigue of late hours +and in the buzzing monotony of the unintelligible stream of words poured +out by the white man. In a sudden pause of the talk the game would +recommence with a sharp click and go on for a time in the flowing soft +whirr and the subdued thuds as the balls rolled zig-zagging towards the +inevitably successful cannon. Through the big windows and the open doors +the salt dampness of the sea, the vague smell of mould and flowers from +the garden of the hotel drifted in and mingled with the odour of lamp +oil, growing heavier as the night advanced. The players' heads dived +into the light as they bent down for the stroke, springing back again +smartly into the greenish gloom of broad lamp-shades; the clock ticked +methodically; the unmoved Chinaman continuously repeated the score in a +lifeless voice, like a big talking doll--and Willems would win the game. +With a remark that it was getting late, and that he was a married man, +he would say a patronizing good-night and step out into the long, +empty street. At that hour its white dust was like a dazzling streak of +moonlight where the eye sought repose in the dimmer gleam of rare oil +lamps. Willems walked homewards, following the line of walls overtopped +by the luxuriant vegetation of the front gardens. The houses right and +left were hidden behind the black masses of flowering shrubs. Willems +had the street to himself. He would walk in the middle, his shadow +gliding obsequiously before him. He looked down on it complacently. +The shadow of a successful man! He would be slightly dizzy with the +cocktails and with the intoxication of his own glory. As he often told +people, he came east fourteen years ago--a cabin boy. A small boy. His +shadow must have been very small at that time; he thought with a smile +that he was not aware then he had anything--even a shadow--which +he dared call his own. And now he was looking at the shadow of the +confidential clerk of Hudig & Co. going home. How glorious! How good +was life for those that were on the winning side! He had won the game +of life; also the game of billiards. He walked faster, jingling his +winnings, and thinking of the white stone days that had marked the path +of his existence. He thought of the trip to Lombok for ponies--that +first important transaction confided to him by Hudig; then he reviewed +the more important affairs: the quiet deal in opium; the illegal traffic +in gunpowder; the great affair of smuggled firearms, the difficult +business of the Rajah of Goak. He carried that last through by sheer +pluck; he had bearded the savage old ruler in his council room; he had +bribed him with a gilt glass coach, which, rumour said, was used as a +hen-coop now; he had over-persuaded him; he had bested him in every way. +That was the way to get on. He disapproved of the elementary dishonesty +that dips the hand in the cash-box, but one could evade the laws and +push the principles of trade to their furthest consequences. Some call +that cheating. Those are the fools, the weak, the contemptible. The +wise, the strong, the respected, have no scruples. Where there are +scruples there can be no power. On that text he preached often to the +young men. It was his doctrine, and he, himself, was a shining example +of its truth. + +Night after night he went home thus, after a day of toil and pleasure, +drunk with the sound of his own voice celebrating his own prosperity. On +his thirtieth birthday he went home thus. He had spent in good company +a nice, noisy evening, and, as he walked along the empty street, the +feeling of his own greatness grew upon him, lifted him above the white +dust of the road, and filled him with exultation and regrets. He had not +done himself justice over there in the hotel, he had not talked enough +about himself, he had not impressed his hearers enough. Never mind. Some +other time. Now he would go home and make his wife get up and listen to +him. Why should she not get up?--and mix a cocktail for him--and listen +patiently. Just so. She shall. If he wanted he could make all the Da +Souza family get up. He had only to say a word and they would all come +and sit silently in their night vestments on the hard, cold ground of +his compound and listen, as long as he wished to go on explaining to +them from the top of the stairs, how great and good he was. They would. +However, his wife would do--for to-night. + +His wife! He winced inwardly. A dismal woman with startled eyes and +dolorously drooping mouth, that would listen to him in pained wonder +and mute stillness. She was used to those night-discourses now. She had +rebelled once--at the beginning. Only once. Now, while he sprawled in +the long chair and drank and talked, she would stand at the further +end of the table, her hands resting on the edge, her frightened eyes +watching his lips, without a sound, without a stir, hardly breathing, +till he dismissed her with a contemptuous: "Go to bed, dummy." She would +draw a long breath then and trail out of the room, relieved but unmoved. +Nothing could startle her, make her scold or make her cry. She did +not complain, she did not rebel. That first difference of theirs +was decisive. Too decisive, thought Willems, discontentedly. It had +frightened the soul out of her body apparently. A dismal woman! A +damn'd business altogether! What the devil did he want to go and saddle +himself. . . . Ah! Well! he wanted a home, and the match seemed to +please Hudig, and Hudig gave him the bungalow, that flower-bowered house +to which he was wending his way in the cool moonlight. And he had +the worship of the Da Souza tribe. A man of his stamp could carry off +anything, do anything, aspire to anything. In another five years those +white people who attended the Sunday card-parties of the Governor would +accept him--half-caste wife and all! Hooray! He saw his shadow dart +forward and wave a hat, as big as a rum barrel, at the end of an +arm several yards long. . . . Who shouted hooray? . . . He smiled +shamefacedly to himself, and, pushing his hands deep into his pockets, +walked faster with a suddenly grave face. Behind him--to the left--a +cigar end glowed in the gateway of Mr. Vinck's front yard. Leaning +against one of the brick pillars, Mr. Vinck, the cashier of Hudig & +Co., smoked the last cheroot of the evening. Amongst the shadows of +the trimmed bushes Mrs. Vinck crunched slowly, with measured steps, the +gravel of the circular path before the house. + +"There's Willems going home on foot--and drunk I fancy," said Mr. Vinck +over his shoulder. "I saw him jump and wave his hat." + +The crunching of the gravel stopped. + +"Horrid man," said Mrs. Vinck, calmly. "I have heard he beats his wife." + +"Oh no, my dear, no," muttered absently Mr. Vinck, with a vague gesture. +The aspect of Willems as a wife-beater presented to him no interest. How +women do misjudge! If Willems wanted to torture his wife he would have +recourse to less primitive methods. Mr. Vinck knew Willems well, and +believed him to be very able, very smart--objectionably so. As he took +the last quick draws at the stump of his cheroot, Mr. Vinck reflected +that the confidence accorded by Hudig to Willems was open, under the +circumstances, to loyal criticism from Hudig's cashier. + +"He is becoming dangerous; he knows too much. He will have to be got rid +of," said Mr. Vinck aloud. But Mrs. Vinck had gone in already, and after +shaking his head he threw away his cheroot and followed her slowly. + +Willems walked on homeward weaving the splendid web of his future. The +road to greatness lay plainly before his eyes, straight and shining, +without any obstacle that he could see. He had stepped off the path +of honesty, as he understood it, but he would soon regain it, never +to leave it any more! It was a very small matter. He would soon put it +right again. Meantime his duty was not to be found out, and he trusted +in his skill, in his luck, in his well-established reputation that would +disarm suspicion if anybody dared to suspect. But nobody would dare! +True, he was conscious of a slight deterioration. He had appropriated +temporarily some of Hudig's money. A deplorable necessity. But he judged +himself with the indulgence that should be extended to the weaknesses +of genius. He would make reparation and all would be as before; nobody +would be the loser for it, and he would go on unchecked toward the +brilliant goal of his ambition. + +Hudig's partner! + +Before going up the steps of his house he stood for awhile, his feet +well apart, chin in hand, contemplating mentally Hudig's future partner. +A glorious occupation. He saw him quite safe; solid as the hills; +deep--deep as an abyss; discreet as the grave. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +The sea, perhaps because of its saltness, roughens the outside but keeps +sweet the kernel of its servants' soul. The old sea; the sea of many +years ago, whose servants were devoted slaves and went from youth to age +or to a sudden grave without needing to open the book of life, because +they could look at eternity reflected on the element that gave the life +and dealt the death. Like a beautiful and unscrupulous woman, the sea +of the past was glorious in its smiles, irresistible in its anger, +capricious, enticing, illogical, irresponsible; a thing to love, a thing +to fear. It cast a spell, it gave joy, it lulled gently into boundless +faith; then with quick and causeless anger it killed. But its cruelty +was redeemed by the charm of its inscrutable mystery, by the immensity +of its promise, by the supreme witchery of its possible favour. Strong +men with childlike hearts were faithful to it, were content to live by +its grace--to die by its will. That was the sea before the time when the +French mind set the Egyptian muscle in motion and produced a dismal +but profitable ditch. Then a great pall of smoke sent out by countless +steam-boats was spread over the restless mirror of the Infinite. The +hand of the engineer tore down the veil of the terrible beauty in +order that greedy and faithless landlubbers might pocket dividends. The +mystery was destroyed. Like all mysteries, it lived only in the hearts +of its worshippers. The hearts changed; the men changed. The once loving +and devoted servants went out armed with fire and iron, and conquering +the fear of their own hearts became a calculating crowd of cold and +exacting masters. The sea of the past was an incomparably beautiful +mistress, with inscrutable face, with cruel and promising eyes. The sea +of to-day is a used-up drudge, wrinkled and defaced by the churned-up +wakes of brutal propellers, robbed of the enslaving charm of its +vastness, stripped of its beauty, of its mystery and of its promise. + +Tom Lingard was a master, a lover, a servant of the sea. The sea took +him young, fashioned him body and soul; gave him his fierce aspect, his +loud voice, his fearless eyes, his stupidly guileless heart. Generously +it gave him his absurd faith in himself, his universal love of creation, +his wide indulgence, his contemptuous severity, his straightforward +simplicity of motive and honesty of aim. Having made him what he was, +womanlike, the sea served him humbly and let him bask unharmed in the +sunshine of its terribly uncertain favour. Tom Lingard grew rich on the +sea and by the sea. He loved it with the ardent affection of a lover, +he made light of it with the assurance of perfect mastery, he feared it +with the wise fear of a brave man, and he took liberties with it as a +spoiled child might do with a paternal and good-natured ogre. He was +grateful to it, with the gratitude of an honest heart. His greatest +pride lay in his profound conviction of its faithfulness--in the deep +sense of his unerring knowledge of its treachery. + +The little brig Flash was the instrument of Lingard's fortune. They came +north together--both young--out of an Australian port, and after a very +few years there was not a white man in the islands, from Palembang to +Ternate, from Ombawa to Palawan, that did not know Captain Tom and +his lucky craft. He was liked for his reckless generosity, for his +unswerving honesty, and at first was a little feared on account of his +violent temper. Very soon, however, they found him out, and the word +went round that Captain Tom's fury was less dangerous than many a man's +smile. He prospered greatly. After his first--and successful--fight with +the sea robbers, when he rescued, as rumour had it, the yacht of some +big wig from home, somewhere down Carimata way, his great popularity +began. As years went on it grew apace. Always visiting out-of-the-way +places of that part of the world, always in search of new markets for +his cargoes--not so much for profit as for the pleasure of finding +them--he soon became known to the Malays, and by his successful +recklessness in several encounters with pirates, established the +terror of his name. Those white men with whom he had business, and who +naturally were on the look-out for his weaknesses, could easily see that +it was enough to give him his Malay title to flatter him greatly. So +when there was anything to be gained by it, and sometimes out of pure +and unprofitable good nature, they would drop the ceremonious "Captain +Lingard" and address him half seriously as Rajah Laut--the King of the +Sea. + +He carried the name bravely on his broad shoulders. He had carried it +many years already when the boy Willems ran barefooted on the deck of +the ship Kosmopoliet IV. in Samarang roads, looking with innocent eyes +on the strange shore and objurgating his immediate surroundings with +blasphemous lips, while his childish brain worked upon the heroic idea +of running away. From the poop of the Flash Lingard saw in the early +morning the Dutch ship get lumberingly under weigh, bound for the +eastern ports. Very late in the evening of the same day he stood on the +quay of the landing canal, ready to go on board of his brig. The night +was starry and clear; the little custom-house building was shut up, and +as the gharry that brought him down disappeared up the long avenue of +dusty trees leading to the town, Lingard thought himself alone on the +quay. He roused up his sleeping boat-crew and stood waiting for them to +get ready, when he felt a tug at his coat and a thin voice said, very +distinctly-- + +"English captain." + +Lingard turned round quickly, and what seemed to be a very lean boy +jumped back with commendable activity. + +"Who are you? Where do you spring from?" asked Lingard, in startled +surprise. + +From a safe distance the boy pointed toward a cargo lighter moored to +the quay. + +"Been hiding there, have you?" said Lingard. "Well, what do you want? +Speak out, confound you. You did not come here to scare me to death, for +fun, did you?" + +The boy tried to explain in imperfect English, but very soon Lingard +interrupted him. + +"I see," he exclaimed, "you ran away from the big ship that sailed this +morning. Well, why don't you go to your countrymen here?" + +"Ship gone only a little way--to Sourabaya. Make me go back to the +ship," explained the boy. + +"Best thing for you," affirmed Lingard with conviction. + +"No," retorted the boy; "me want stop here; not want go home. Get money +here; home no good." + +"This beats all my going a-fishing," commented the astonished Lingard. +"It's money you want? Well! well! And you were not afraid to run away, +you bag of bones, you!" + +The boy intimated that he was frightened of nothing but of being sent +back to the ship. Lingard looked at him in meditative silence. + +"Come closer," he said at last. He took the boy by the chin, and turning +up his face gave him a searching look. "How old are you?" + +"Seventeen." + +"There's not much of you for seventeen. Are you hungry?" + +"A little." + +"Will you come with me, in that brig there?" + +The boy moved without a word towards the boat and scrambled into the +bows. + +"Knows his place," muttered Lingard to himself as he stepped heavily +into the stern sheets and took up the yoke lines. "Give way there." + +The Malay boat crew lay back together, and the gig sprang away from the +quay heading towards the brig's riding light. + +Such was the beginning of Willems' career. + +Lingard learned in half an hour all that there was of Willems' +commonplace story. Father outdoor clerk of some ship-broker in +Rotterdam; mother dead. The boy quick in learning, but idle in school. +The straitened circumstances in the house filled with small brothers and +sisters, sufficiently clothed and fed but otherwise running wild, while +the disconsolate widower tramped about all day in a shabby overcoat and +imperfect boots on the muddy quays, and in the evening piloted wearily +the half-intoxicated foreign skippers amongst the places of cheap +delights, returning home late, sick with too much smoking and +drinking--for company's sake--with these men, who expected such +attentions in the way of business. Then the offer of the good-natured +captain of Kosmopoliet IV., who was pleased to do something for the +patient and obliging fellow; young Willems' great joy, his still greater +disappointment with the sea that looked so charming from afar, but +proved so hard and exacting on closer acquaintance--and then this +running away by a sudden impulse. The boy was hopelessly at variance +with the spirit of the sea. He had an instinctive contempt for the +honest simplicity of that work which led to nothing he cared for. +Lingard soon found this out. He offered to send him home in an English +ship, but the boy begged hard to be permitted to remain. He wrote a +beautiful hand, became soon perfect in English, was quick at figures; +and Lingard made him useful in that way. As he grew older his trading +instincts developed themselves astonishingly, and Lingard left him +often to trade in one island or another while he, himself, made an +intermediate trip to some out-of-the-way place. On Willems expressing +a wish to that effect, Lingard let him enter Hudig's service. He felt +a little sore at that abandonment because he had attached himself, in +a way, to his protege. Still he was proud of him, and spoke up for him +loyally. At first it was, "Smart boy that--never make a seaman though." +Then when Willems was helping in the trading he referred to him as "that +clever young fellow." Later when Willems became the confidential agent +of Hudig, employed in many a delicate affair, the simple-hearted old +seaman would point an admiring finger at his back and whisper to whoever +stood near at the moment, "Long-headed chap that; deuced long-headed +chap. Look at him. Confidential man of old Hudig. I picked him up in a +ditch, you may say, like a starved cat. Skin and bone. 'Pon my word I +did. And now he knows more than I do about island trading. Fact. I am +not joking. More than I do," he would repeat, seriously, with innocent +pride in his honest eyes. + +From the safe elevation of his commercial successes Willems patronized +Lingard. He had a liking for his benefactor, not unmixed with some +disdain for the crude directness of the old fellow's methods of conduct. +There were, however, certain sides of Lingard's character for which +Willems felt a qualified respect. The talkative seaman knew how to +be silent on certain matters that to Willems were very interesting. +Besides, Lingard was rich, and that in itself was enough to compel +Willems' unwilling admiration. In his confidential chats with Hudig, +Willems generally alluded to the benevolent Englishman as the "lucky +old fool" in a very distinct tone of vexation; Hudig would grunt an +unqualified assent, and then the two would look at each other in a +sudden immobility of pupils fixed by a stare of unexpressed thought. + +"You can't find out where he gets all that india-rubber, hey Willems?" +Hudig would ask at last, turning away and bending over the papers on his +desk. + +"No, Mr. Hudig. Not yet. But I am trying," was Willems' invariable +reply, delivered with a ring of regretful deprecation. + +"Try! Always try! You may try! You think yourself clever perhaps," +rumbled on Hudig, without looking up. "I have been trading with him +twenty--thirty years now. The old fox. And I have tried. Bah!" + +He stretched out a short, podgy leg and contemplated the bare instep and +the grass slipper hanging by the toes. "You can't make him drunk?" he +would add, after a pause of stertorous breathing. + +"No, Mr. Hudig, I can't really," protested Willems, earnestly. + +"Well, don't try. I know him. Don't try," advised the master, and, +bending again over his desk, his staring bloodshot eyes close to the +paper, he would go on tracing laboriously with his thick fingers the +slim unsteady letters of his correspondence, while Willems waited +respectfully for his further good pleasure before asking, with great +deference-- + +"Any orders, Mr. Hudig?" + +"Hm! yes. Go to Bun-Hin yourself and see the dollars of that payment +counted and packed, and have them put on board the mail-boat for +Ternate. She's due here this afternoon." + +"Yes, Mr. Hudig." + +"And, look here. If the boat is late, leave the case in Bun-Hin's godown +till to-morrow. Seal it up. Eight seals as usual. Don't take it away +till the boat is here." + +"No, Mr. Hudig." + +"And don't forget about these opium cases. It's for to-night. Use my own +boatmen. Transship them from the Caroline to the Arab barque," went +on the master in his hoarse undertone. "And don't you come to me with +another story of a case dropped overboard like last time," he added, +with sudden ferocity, looking up at his confidential clerk. + +"No, Mr. Hudig. I will take care." + +"That's all. Tell that pig as you go out that if he doesn't make the +punkah go a little better I will break every bone in his body," finished +up Hudig, wiping his purple face with a red silk handkerchief nearly as +big as a counterpane. + +Noiselessly Willems went out, shutting carefully behind him the little +green door through which he passed to the warehouse. Hudig, pen in hand, +listened to him bullying the punkah boy with profane violence, born +of unbounded zeal for the master's comfort, before he returned to his +writing amid the rustling of papers fluttering in the wind sent down by +the punkah that waved in wide sweeps above his head. + +Willems would nod familiarly to Mr. Vinck, who had his desk close to the +little door of the private office, and march down the warehouse with an +important air. Mr. Vinck--extreme dislike lurking in every wrinkle of +his gentlemanly countenance--would follow with his eyes the white figure +flitting in the gloom amongst the piles of bales and cases till it +passed out through the big archway into the glare of the street. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +The opportunity and the temptation were too much for Willems, and under +the pressure of sudden necessity he abused that trust which was his +pride, the perpetual sign of his cleverness and a load too heavy for him +to carry. A run of bad luck at cards, the failure of a small speculation +undertaken on his own account, an unexpected demand for money from one +or another member of the Da Souza family--and almost before he was well +aware of it he was off the path of his peculiar honesty. It was such a +faint and ill-defined track that it took him some time to find out how +far he had strayed amongst the brambles of the dangerous wilderness he +had been skirting for so many years, without any other guide than his +own convenience and that doctrine of success which he had found for +himself in the book of life--in those interesting chapters that the +Devil has been permitted to write in it, to test the sharpness of men's +eyesight and the steadfastness of their hearts. For one short, dark and +solitary moment he was dismayed, but he had that courage that will not +scale heights, yet will wade bravely through the mud--if there be no +other road. He applied himself to the task of restitution, and devoted +himself to the duty of not being found out. On his thirtieth birthday he +had almost accomplished the task--and the duty had been faithfully and +cleverly performed. He saw himself safe. Again he could look hopefully +towards the goal of his legitimate ambition. Nobody would dare to +suspect him, and in a few days there would be nothing to suspect. He +was elated. He did not know that his prosperity had touched then its +high-water mark, and that the tide was already on the turn. + +Two days afterwards he knew. Mr. Vinck, hearing the rattle of the +door-handle, jumped up from his desk--where he had been tremulously +listening to the loud voices in the private office--and buried his face +in the big safe with nervous haste. For the last time Willems passed +through the little green door leading to Hudig's sanctum, which, during +the past half-hour, might have been taken--from the fiendish noise +within--for the cavern of some wild beast. Willems' troubled eyes took +in the quick impression of men and things as he came out from the place +of his humiliation. He saw the scared expression of the punkah boy; the +Chinamen tellers sitting on their heels with unmovable faces turned up +blankly towards him while their arrested hands hovered over the +little piles of bright guilders ranged on the floor; Mr. Vinck's +shoulder-blades with the fleshy rims of two red ears above. He saw the +long avenue of gin cases stretching from where he stood to the arched +doorway beyond which he would be able to breathe perhaps. A thin rope's +end lay across his path and he saw it distinctly, yet stumbled heavily +over it as if it had been a bar of iron. Then he found himself in the +street at last, but could not find air enough to fill his lungs. He +walked towards his home, gasping. + +As the sound of Hudig's insults that lingered in his ears grew fainter +by the lapse of time, the feeling of shame was replaced slowly by a +passion of anger against himself and still more against the stupid +concourse of circumstances that had driven him into his idiotic +indiscretion. Idiotic indiscretion; that is how he defined his guilt +to himself. Could there be anything worse from the point of view of his +undeniable cleverness? What a fatal aberration of an acute mind! He did +not recognize himself there. He must have been mad. That's it. A sudden +gust of madness. And now the work of long years was destroyed utterly. +What would become of him? + +Before he could answer that question he found himself in the garden +before his house, Hudig's wedding gift. He looked at it with a vague +surprise to find it there. His past was so utterly gone from him that +the dwelling which belonged to it appeared to him incongruous standing +there intact, neat, and cheerful in the sunshine of the hot afternoon. +The house was a pretty little structure all doors and windows, +surrounded on all sides by the deep verandah supported on slender +columns clothed in the green foliage of creepers, which also fringed the +overhanging eaves of the high-pitched roof. Slowly, Willems mounted the +dozen steps that led to the verandah. He paused at every step. He +must tell his wife. He felt frightened at the prospect, and his alarm +dismayed him. Frightened to face her! Nothing could give him a better +measure of the greatness of the change around him, and in him. Another +man--and another life with the faith in himself gone. He could not be +worth much if he was afraid to face that woman. + +He dared not enter the house through the open door of the dining-room, +but stood irresolute by the little work-table where trailed a white +piece of calico, with a needle stuck in it, as if the work had been left +hurriedly. The pink-crested cockatoo started, on his appearance, into +clumsy activity and began to climb laboriously up and down his perch, +calling "Joanna" with indistinct loudness and a persistent screech +that prolonged the last syllable of the name as if in a peal of insane +laughter. The screen in the doorway moved gently once or twice in the +breeze, and each time Willems started slightly, expecting his wife, but +he never lifted his eyes, although straining his ears for the sound of +her footsteps. Gradually he lost himself in his thoughts, in the endless +speculation as to the manner in which she would receive his news--and +his orders. In this preoccupation he almost forgot the fear of her +presence. No doubt she will cry, she will lament, she will be helpless +and frightened and passive as ever. And he would have to drag that limp +weight on and on through the darkness of a spoiled life. Horrible! +Of course he could not abandon her and the child to certain misery or +possible starvation. The wife and the child of Willems. Willems the +successful, the smart; Willems the conf . . . . Pah! And what was +Willems now? Willems the. . . . He strangled the half-born thought, and +cleared his throat to stifle a groan. Ah! Won't they talk to-night in +the billiard-room--his world, where he had been first--all those men to +whom he had been so superciliously condescending. Won't they talk with +surprise, and affected regret, and grave faces, and wise nods. Some of +them owed him money, but he never pressed anybody. Not he. Willems, the +prince of good fellows, they called him. And now they will rejoice, no +doubt, at his downfall. A crowd of imbeciles. In his abasement he was +yet aware of his superiority over those fellows, who were merely honest +or simply not found out yet. A crowd of imbeciles! He shook his fist at +the evoked image of his friends, and the startled parrot fluttered its +wings and shrieked in desperate fright. + +In a short glance upwards Willems saw his wife come round the corner of +the house. He lowered his eyelids quickly, and waited silently till she +came near and stood on the other side of the little table. He would +not look at her face, but he could see the red dressing-gown he knew so +well. She trailed through life in that red dressing-gown, with its row +of dirty blue bows down the front, stained, and hooked on awry; a torn +flounce at the bottom following her like a snake as she moved languidly +about, with her hair negligently caught up, and a tangled wisp +straggling untidily down her back. His gaze travelled upwards from bow +to bow, noticing those that hung only by a thread, but it did not +go beyond her chin. He looked at her lean throat, at the obtrusive +collarbone visible in the disarray of the upper part of her attire. He +saw the thin arm and the bony hand clasping the child she carried, +and he felt an immense distaste for those encumbrances of his life. He +waited for her to say something, but as he felt her eyes rest on him in +unbroken silence he sighed and began to speak. + +It was a hard task. He spoke slowly, lingering amongst the memories of +this early life in his reluctance to confess that this was the end of +it and the beginning of a less splendid existence. In his conviction of +having made her happiness in the full satisfaction of all material wants +he never doubted for a moment that she was ready to keep him company +on no matter how hard and stony a road. He was not elated by this +certitude. He had married her to please Hudig, and the greatness of his +sacrifice ought to have made her happy without any further exertion on +his part. She had years of glory as Willems' wife, and years of comfort, +of loyal care, and of such tenderness as she deserved. He had guarded +her carefully from any bodily hurt; and of any other suffering he had +no conception. The assertion of his superiority was only another benefit +conferred on her. All this was a matter of course, but he told her all +this so as to bring vividly before her the greatness of her loss. She +was so dull of understanding that she would not grasp it else. And now +it was at an end. They would have to go. Leave this house, leave +this island, go far away where he was unknown. To the English +Strait-Settlements perhaps. He would find an opening there for his +abilities--and juster men to deal with than old Hudig. He laughed +bitterly. + +"You have the money I left at home this morning, Joanna?" he asked. "We +will want it all now." + +As he spoke those words he thought he was a fine fellow. Nothing new +that. Still, he surpassed there his own expectations. Hang it all, there +are sacred things in life, after all. The marriage tie was one of them, +and he was not the man to break it. The solidity of his principles +caused him great satisfaction, but he did not care to look at his wife, +for all that. He waited for her to speak. Then he would have to console +her; tell her not to be a crying fool; to get ready to go. Go where? +How? When? He shook his head. They must leave at once; that was the +principal thing. He felt a sudden need to hurry up his departure. + +"Well, Joanna," he said, a little impatiently---"don't stand there in a +trance. Do you hear? We must. . . ." + +He looked up at his wife, and whatever he was going to add remained +unspoken. She was staring at him with her big, slanting eyes, that +seemed to him twice their natural size. The child, its dirty little +face pressed to its mother's shoulder, was sleeping peacefully. The deep +silence of the house was not broken, but rather accentuated, by the +low mutter of the cockatoo, now very still on its perch. As Willems was +looking at Joanna her upper lip was drawn up on one side, giving to her +melancholy face a vicious expression altogether new to his experience. +He stepped back in his surprise. + +"Oh! You great man!" she said distinctly, but in a voice that was hardly +above a whisper. + +Those words, and still more her tone, stunned him as if somebody had +fired a gun close to his ear. He stared back at her stupidly. + +"Oh! you great man!" she repeated slowly, glancing right and left as +if meditating a sudden escape. "And you think that I am going to starve +with you. You are nobody now. You think my mamma and Leonard would let +me go away? And with you! With you," she repeated scornfully, raising +her voice, which woke up the child and caused it to whimper feebly. + +"Joanna!" exclaimed Willems. + +"Do not speak to me. I have heard what I have waited for all these +years. You are less than dirt, you that have wiped your feet on me. I +have waited for this. I am not afraid now. I do not want you; do not +come near me. Ah-h!" she screamed shrilly, as he held out his hand in an +entreating gesture--"Ah! Keep off me! Keep off me! Keep off!" + +She backed away, looking at him with eyes both angry and frightened. +Willems stared motionless, in dumb amazement at the mystery of anger and +revolt in the head of his wife. Why? What had he ever done to her? This +was the day of injustice indeed. First Hudig--and now his wife. He felt +a terror at this hate that had lived stealthily so near him for years. +He tried to speak, but she shrieked again, and it was like a needle +through his heart. Again he raised his hand. + +"Help!" called Mrs. Willems, in a piercing voice. "Help!" + +"Be quiet! You fool!" shouted Willems, trying to drown the noise of +his wife and child in his own angry accents and rattling violently the +little zinc table in his exasperation. + +From under the house, where there were bathrooms and a tool closet, +appeared Leonard, a rusty iron bar in his hand. He called threateningly +from the bottom of the stairs. + +"Do not hurt her, Mr. Willems. You are a savage. Not at all like we, +whites." + +"You too!" said the bewildered Willems. "I haven't touched her. Is this +a madhouse?" He moved towards the stairs, and Leonard dropped the bar +with a clang and made for the gate of the compound. Willems turned back +to his wife. + +"So you expected this," he said. "It is a conspiracy. Who's that sobbing +and groaning in the room? Some more of your precious family. Hey?" + +She was more calm now, and putting hastily the crying child in the big +chair walked towards him with sudden fearlessness. + +"My mother," she said, "my mother who came to defend me from you--man +from nowhere; a vagabond!" + +"You did not call me a vagabond when you hung round my neck--before we +were married," said Willems, contemptuously. + +"You took good care that I should not hang round your neck after we +were," she answered, clenching her hands, and putting her face close to +his. "You boasted while I suffered and said nothing. What has become of +your greatness; of our greatness--you were always speaking about? Now +I am going to live on the charity of your master. Yes. That is true. He +sent Leonard to tell me so. And you will go and boast somewhere else, +and starve. So! Ah! I can breathe now! This house is mine." + +"Enough!" said Willems, slowly, with an arresting gesture. + +She leaped back, the fright again in her eyes, snatched up the child, +pressed it to her breast, and, falling into a chair, drummed insanely +with her heels on the resounding floor of the verandah. + +"I shall go," said Willems, steadily. "I thank you. For the first time +in your life you make me happy. You were a stone round my neck; you +understand. I did not mean to tell you that as long as you lived, but +you made me--now. Before I pass this gate you shall be gone from my +mind. You made it very easy. I thank you." + +He turned and went down the steps without giving her a glance, while she +sat upright and quiet, with wide-open eyes, the child crying querulously +in her arms. At the gate he came suddenly upon Leonard, who had been +dodging about there and failed to get out of the way in time. + +"Do not be brutal, Mr. Willems," said Leonard, hurriedly. "It is +unbecoming between white men with all those natives looking on." +Leonard's legs trembled very much, and his voice wavered between high +and low tones without any attempt at control on his part. "Restrain your +improper violence," he went on mumbling rapidly. "I am a respectable man +of very good family, while you . . . it is regrettable . . . they all +say so . . ." + +"What?" thundered Willems. He felt a sudden impulse of mad anger, and +before he knew what had happened he was looking at Leonard da Souza +rolling in the dust at his feet. He stepped over his prostrate +brother-in-law and tore blindly down the street, everybody making way +for the frantic white man. + +When he came to himself he was beyond the outskirts of the town, +stumbling on the hard and cracked earth of reaped rice fields. How did +he get there? It was dark. He must get back. As he walked towards the +town slowly, his mind reviewed the events of the day and he felt a sense +of bitter loneliness. His wife had turned him out of his own house. +He had assaulted brutally his brother-in-law, a member of the Da Souza +family--of that band of his worshippers. He did. Well, no! It was some +other man. Another man was coming back. A man without a past, without +a future, yet full of pain and shame and anger. He stopped and looked +round. A dog or two glided across the empty street and rushed past him +with a frightened snarl. He was now in the midst of the Malay quarter +whose bamboo houses, hidden in the verdure of their little gardens, were +dark and silent. Men, women and children slept in there. Human beings. +Would he ever sleep, and where? He felt as if he was the outcast of all +mankind, and as he looked hopelessly round, before resuming his weary +march, it seemed to him that the world was bigger, the night more vast +and more black; but he went on doggedly with his head down as if pushing +his way through some thick brambles. Then suddenly he felt planks under +his feet and, looking up, saw the red light at the end of the jetty. He +walked quite to the end and stood leaning against the post, under the +lamp, looking at the roadstead where two vessels at anchor swayed their +slender rigging amongst the stars. The end of the jetty; and here in one +step more the end of life; the end of everything. Better so. What else +could he do? Nothing ever comes back. He saw it clearly. The respect +and admiration of them all, the old habits and old affections finished +abruptly in the clear perception of the cause of his disgrace. He +saw all this; and for a time he came out of himself, out of his +selfishness--out of the constant preoccupation of his interests and his +desires--out of the temple of self and the concentration of personal +thought. + +His thoughts now wandered home. Standing in the tepid stillness of a +starry tropical night he felt the breath of the bitter east wind, he saw +the high and narrow fronts of tall houses under the gloom of a clouded +sky; and on muddy quays he saw the shabby, high-shouldered figure--the +patient, faded face of the weary man earning bread for the children +that waited for him in a dingy home. It was miserable, miserable. But it +would never come back. What was there in common between those things and +Willems the clever, Willems the successful. He had cut himself adrift +from that home many years ago. Better for him then. Better for them now. +All this was gone, never to come back again; and suddenly he shivered, +seeing himself alone in the presence of unknown and terrible dangers. + +For the first time in his life he felt afraid of the future, because he +had lost his faith, the faith in his own success. And he had destroyed +it foolishly with his own hands! + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +His meditation which resembled slow drifting into suicide was +interrupted by Lingard, who, with a loud "I've got you at last!" dropped +his hand heavily on Willems' shoulder. This time it was the old seaman +himself going out of his way to pick up the uninteresting waif--all +that there was left of that sudden and sordid shipwreck. To Willems, +the rough, friendly voice was a quick and fleeting relief followed by a +sharper pang of anger and unavailing regret. That voice carried him +back to the beginning of his promising career, the end of which was very +visible now from the jetty where they both stood. He shook himself free +from the friendly grasp, saying with ready bitterness-- + +"It's all your fault. Give me a push now, do, and send me over. I have +been standing here waiting for help. You are the man--of all men. You +helped at the beginning; you ought to have a hand in the end." + +"I have better use for you than to throw you to the fishes," said +Lingard, seriously, taking Willems by the arm and forcing him gently to +walk up the jetty. "I have been buzzing over this town like a bluebottle +fly, looking for you high and low. I have heard a lot. I will tell you +what, Willems; you are no saint, that's a fact. And you have not been +over-wise either. I am not throwing stones," he added, hastily, as +Willems made an effort to get away, "but I am not going to mince +matters. Never could! You keep quiet while I talk. Can't you?" + +With a gesture of resignation and a half-stifled groan Willems submitted +to the stronger will, and the two men paced slowly up and down the +resounding planks, while Lingard disclosed to Willems the exact manner +of his undoing. After the first shock Willems lost the faculty of +surprise in the over-powering feeling of indignation. So it was Vinck +and Leonard who had served him so. They had watched him, tracked his +misdeeds, reported them to Hudig. They had bribed obscure Chinamen, +wormed out confidences from tipsy skippers, got at various boatmen, +and had pieced out in that way the story of his irregularities. The +blackness of this dark intrigue filled him with horror. He could +understand Vinck. There was no love lost between them. But Leonard! +Leonard! + +"Why, Captain Lingard," he burst out, "the fellow licked my boots." + +"Yes, yes, yes," said Lingard, testily, "we know that, and you did your +best to cram your boot down his throat. No man likes that, my boy." + +"I was always giving money to all that hungry lot," went on Willems, +passionately. "Always my hand in my pocket. They never had to ask +twice." + +"Just so. Your generosity frightened them. They asked themselves +where all that came from, and concluded that it was safer to throw you +overboard. After all, Hudig is a much greater man than you, my friend, +and they have a claim on him also." + +"What do you mean, Captain Lingard?" + +"What do I mean?" repeated Lingard, slowly. "Why, you are not going to +make me believe you did not know your wife was Hudig's daughter. Come +now!" + +Willems stopped suddenly and swayed about. + +"Ah! I understand," he gasped. "I never heard . . . Lately I thought +there was . . . But no, I never guessed." + +"Oh, you simpleton!" said Lingard, pityingly. "'Pon my word," he +muttered to himself, "I don't believe the fellow knew. Well! well! +Steady now. Pull yourself together. What's wrong there. She is a good +wife to you." + +"Excellent wife," said Willems, in a dreary voice, looking far over the +black and scintillating water. + +"Very well then," went on Lingard, with increasing friendliness. +"Nothing wrong there. But did you really think that Hudig was marrying +you off and giving you a house and I don't know what, out of love for +you?" + +"I had served him well," answered Willems. "How well, you know +yourself--through thick and thin. No matter what work and what risk, I +was always there; always ready." + +How well he saw the greatness of his work and the immensity of that +injustice which was his reward. She was that man's daughter! + +In the light of this disclosure the facts of the last five years of his +life stood clearly revealed in their full meaning. He had spoken first +to Joanna at the gate of their dwelling as he went to his work in +the brilliant flush of the early morning, when women and flowers are +charming even to the dullest eyes. A most respectable family--two women +and a young man--were his next-door neighbours. Nobody ever came to +their little house but the priest, a native from the Spanish islands, +now and then. The young man Leonard he had met in town, and was +flattered by the little fellow's immense respect for the great Willems. +He let him bring chairs, call the waiters, chalk his cues when playing +billiards, express his admiration in choice words. He even condescended +to listen patiently to Leonard's allusions to "our beloved father," a +man of official position, a government agent in Koti, where he died of +cholera, alas! a victim to duty, like a good Catholic, and a good man. +It sounded very respectable, and Willems approved of those feeling +references. Moreover, he prided himself upon having no colour-prejudices +and no racial antipathies. He consented to drink curacoa one afternoon +on the verandah of Mrs. da Souza's house. He remembered Joanna that day, +swinging in a hammock. She was untidy even then, he remembered, and that +was the only impression he carried away from that visit. He had no time +for love in those glorious days, no time even for a passing fancy, but +gradually he fell into the habit of calling almost every day at that +little house where he was greeted by Mrs. da Souza's shrill voice +screaming for Joanna to come and entertain the gentleman from Hudig +& Co. And then the sudden and unexpected visit of the priest. He +remembered the man's flat, yellow face, his thin legs, his propitiatory +smile, his beaming black eyes, his conciliating manner, his veiled hints +which he did not understand at the time. How he wondered what the man +wanted, and how unceremoniously he got rid of him. And then came vividly +into his recollection the morning when he met again that fellow coming +out of Hudig's office, and how he was amused at the incongruous visit. +And that morning with Hudig! Would he ever forget it? Would he ever +forget his surprise as the master, instead of plunging at once into +business, looked at him thoughtfully before turning, with a furtive +smile, to the papers on the desk? He could hear him now, his nose in the +paper before him, dropping astonishing words in the intervals of wheezy +breathing. + +"Heard said . . . called there often . . . most respectable ladies . . . +knew the father very well . . . estimable . . . best thing for a young +man . . . settle down. . . . Personally, very glad to hear . . . thing +arranged. . . . Suitable recognition of valuable services. . . . Best +thing--best thing to do." + +And he believed! What credulity! What an ass! Hudig knew the father! +Rather. And so did everybody else probably; all except himself. How +proud he had been of Hudig's benevolent interest in his fate! How proud +he was when invited by Hudig to stay with him at his little house in the +country--where he could meet men, men of official position--as a friend. +Vinck had been green with envy. Oh, yes! He had believed in the best +thing, and took the girl like a gift of fortune. How he boasted to Hudig +of being free from prejudices. The old scoundrel must have been laughing +in his sleeve at his fool of a confidential clerk. He took the girl, +guessing nothing. How could he? There had been a father of some kind +to the common knowledge. Men knew him; spoke about him. A lank man of +hopelessly mixed descent, but otherwise--apparently--unobjectionable. +The shady relations came out afterward, but--with his freedom from +prejudices--he did not mind them, because, with their humble dependence, +they completed his triumphant life. Taken in! taken in! Hudig had found +an easy way to provide for the begging crowd. He had shifted the burden +of his youthful vagaries on to the shoulders of his confidential clerk; +and while he worked for the master, the master had cheated him; had +stolen his very self from him. He was married. He belonged to that +woman, no matter what she might do! . . . Had sworn . . . for all life! +. . . Thrown himself away. . . . And that man dared this very morning +call him a thief! Damnation! + +"Let go, Lingard!" he shouted, trying to get away by a sudden jerk from +the watchful old seaman. "Let me go and kill that . . ." + +"No you don't!" panted Lingard, hanging on manfully. "You want to kill, +do you? You lunatic. Ah!--I've got you now! Be quiet, I say!" + +They struggled violently, Lingard forcing Willems slowly towards the +guard-rail. Under their feet the jetty sounded like a drum in the quiet +night. On the shore end the native caretaker of the wharf watched the +combat, squatting behind the safe shelter of some big cases. The next +day he informed his friends, with calm satisfaction, that two drunken +white men had fought on the jetty. + +It had been a great fight. They fought without arms, like wild beasts, +after the manner of white men. No! nobody was killed, or there would +have been trouble and a report to make. How could he know why they +fought? White men have no reason when they are like that. + +Just as Lingard was beginning to fear that he would be unable to +restrain much longer the violence of the younger man, he felt Willems' +muscles relaxing, and took advantage of this opportunity to pin him, by +a last effort, to the rail. They both panted heavily, speechless, their +faces very close. + +"All right," muttered Willems at last. "Don't break my back over this +infernal rail. I will be quiet." + +"Now you are reasonable," said Lingard, much relieved. "What made you +fly into that passion?" he asked, leading him back to the end of the +jetty, and, still holding him prudently with one hand, he fumbled with +the other for his whistle and blew a shrill and prolonged blast. Over +the smooth water of the roadstead came in answer a faint cry from one of +the ships at anchor. + +"My boat will be here directly," said Lingard. "Think of what you are +going to do. I sail to-night." + +"What is there for me to do, except one thing?" said Willems, gloomily. + +"Look here," said Lingard; "I picked you up as a boy, and consider +myself responsible for you in a way. You took your life into your own +hands many years ago--but still . . ." + +He paused, listening, till he heard the regular grind of the oars in the +rowlocks of the approaching boat then went on again. + +"I have made it all right with Hudig. You owe him nothing now. Go back +to your wife. She is a good woman. Go back to her." + +"Why, Captain Lingard," exclaimed Willems, "she . . ." + +"It was most affecting," went on Lingard, without heeding him. "I +went to your house to look for you and there I saw her despair. It was +heart-breaking. She called for you; she entreated me to find you. She +spoke wildly, poor woman, as if all this was her fault." + +Willems listened amazed. The blind old idiot! How queerly he +misunderstood! But if it was true, if it was even true, the very idea of +seeing her filled his soul with intense loathing. He did not break +his oath, but he would not go back to her. Let hers be the sin of that +separation; of the sacred bond broken. He revelled in the extreme purity +of his heart, and he would not go back to her. Let her come back to him. +He had the comfortable conviction that he would never see her again, +and that through her own fault only. In this conviction he told himself +solemnly that if she would come to him he would receive her with +generous forgiveness, because such was the praiseworthy solidity of his +principles. But he hesitated whether he would or would not disclose to +Lingard the revolting completeness of his humiliation. Turned out of his +house--and by his wife; that woman who hardly dared to breathe in his +presence, yesterday. He remained perplexed and silent. No. He lacked the +courage to tell the ignoble story. + +As the boat of the brig appeared suddenly on the black water close to +the jetty, Lingard broke the painful silence. + +"I always thought," he said, sadly, "I always thought you were somewhat +heartless, Willems, and apt to cast adrift those that thought most of +you. I appeal to what is best in you; do not abandon that woman." + +"I have not abandoned her," answered Willems, quickly, with conscious +truthfulness. "Why should I? As you so justly observed, she has been a +good wife to me. A very good, quiet, obedient, loving wife, and I love +her as much as she loves me. Every bit. But as to going back now, to +that place where I . . . To walk again amongst those men who yesterday +were ready to crawl before me, and then feel on my back the sting of +their pitying or satisfied smiles--no! I can't. I would rather hide from +them at the bottom of the sea," he went on, with resolute energy. "I +don't think, Captain Lingard," he added, more quietly, "I don't think +that you realize what my position was there." + +In a wide sweep of his hand he took in the sleeping shore from north to +south, as if wishing it a proud and threatening good-bye. For a short +moment he forgot his downfall in the recollection of his brilliant +triumphs. Amongst the men of his class and occupation who slept in those +dark houses he had been indeed the first. + +"It is hard," muttered Lingard, pensively. "But whose the fault? Whose +the fault?" + +"Captain Lingard!" cried Willems, under the sudden impulse of a +felicitous inspiration, "if you leave me here on this jetty--it's +murder. I shall never return to that place alive, wife or no wife. You +may just as well cut my throat at once." + +The old seaman started. + +"Don't try to frighten me, Willems," he said, with great severity, and +paused. + +Above the accents of Willems' brazen despair he heard, with considerable +uneasiness, the whisper of his own absurd conscience. He meditated for +awhile with an irresolute air. + +"I could tell you to go and drown yourself, and be damned to you," he +said, with an unsuccessful assumption of brutality in his manner, "but +I won't. We are responsible for one another--worse luck. I am almost +ashamed of myself, but I can understand your dirty pride. I can! +By . . ." + +He broke off with a loud sigh and walked briskly to the steps, at the +bottom of which lay his boat, rising and falling gently on the slight +and invisible swell. + +"Below there! Got a lamp in the boat? Well, light it and bring it up, +one of you. Hurry now!" + +He tore out a page of his pocketbook, moistened his pencil with great +energy and waited, stamping his feet impatiently. + +"I will see this thing through," he muttered to himself. "And I will +have it all square and ship-shape; see if I don't! Are you going to +bring that lamp, you son of a crippled mud-turtle? I am waiting." + +The gleam of the light on the paper placated his professional anger, and +he wrote rapidly, the final dash of his signature curling the paper up +in a triangular tear. + +"Take that to this white Tuan's house. I will send the boat back for you +in half an hour." + +The coxswain raised his lamp deliberately to Willem's face. + +"This Tuan? Tau! I know." + +"Quick then!" said Lingard, taking the lamp from him--and the man went +off at a run. + +"Kassi mem! To the lady herself," called Lingard after him. + +Then, when the man disappeared, he turned to Willems. + +"I have written to your wife," he said. "If you do not return for good, +you do not go back to that house only for another parting. You must come +as you stand. I won't have that poor woman tormented. I will see to it +that you are not separated for long. Trust me!" + +Willems shivered, then smiled in the darkness. + +"No fear of that," he muttered, enigmatically. "I trust you implicitly, +Captain Lingard," he added, in a louder tone. + +Lingard led the way down the steps, swinging the lamp and speaking over +his shoulder. + +"It is the second time, Willems, I take you in hand. Mind it is the +last. The second time; and the only difference between then and now is +that you were bare-footed then and have boots now. In fourteen years. +With all your smartness! A poor result that. A very poor result." + +He stood for awhile on the lowest platform of the steps, the light of +the lamp falling on the upturned face of the stroke oar, who held the +gunwale of the boat close alongside, ready for the captain to step in. + +"You see," he went on, argumentatively, fumbling about the top of +the lamp, "you got yourself so crooked amongst those 'longshore +quill-drivers that you could not run clear in any way. That's what comes +of such talk as yours, and of such a life. A man sees so much falsehood +that he begins to lie to himself. Pah!" he said, in disgust, "there's +only one place for an honest man. The sea, my boy, the sea! But you +never would; didn't think there was enough money in it; and now--look!" + +He blew the light out, and, stepping into the boat, stretched quickly +his hand towards Willems, with friendly care. Willems sat by him in +silence, and the boat shoved off, sweeping in a wide circle towards the +brig. + +"Your compassion is all for my wife, Captain Lingard," said Willems, +moodily. "Do you think I am so very happy?" + +"No! no!" said Lingard, heartily. "Not a word more shall pass my lips. +I had to speak my mind once, seeing that I knew you from a child, so +to speak. And now I shall forget; but you are young yet. Life is very +long," he went on, with unconscious sadness; "let this be a lesson to +you." + +He laid his hand affectionately on Willems' shoulder, and they both sat +silent till the boat came alongside the ship's ladder. + +When on board Lingard gave orders to his mate, and leading Willems on +the poop, sat on the breech of one of the brass six-pounders with +which his vessel was armed. The boat went off again to bring back the +messenger. As soon as it was seen returning dark forms appeared on the +brig's spars; then the sails fell in festoons with a swish of their +heavy folds, and hung motionless under the yards in the dead calm of +the clear and dewy night. From the forward end came the clink of the +windlass, and soon afterwards the hail of the chief mate informing +Lingard that the cable was hove short. + +"Hold on everything," hailed back Lingard; "we must wait for the +land-breeze before we let go our hold of the ground." + +He approached Willems, who sat on the skylight, his body bent down, his +head low, and his hands hanging listlessly between his knees. + +"I am going to take you to Sambir," he said. "You've never heard of the +place, have you? Well, it's up that river of mine about which people +talk so much and know so little. I've found out the entrance for a ship +of Flash's size. It isn't easy. You'll see. I will show you. You have +been at sea long enough to take an interest. . . . Pity you didn't stick +to it. Well, I am going there. I have my own trading post in the place. +Almayer is my partner. You knew him when he was at Hudig's. Oh, he lives +there as happy as a king. D'ye see, I have them all in my pocket. The +rajah is an old friend of mine. My word is law--and I am the only +trader. No other white man but Almayer had ever been in that settlement. +You will live quietly there till I come back from my next cruise to the +westward. We shall see then what can be done for you. Never fear. I have +no doubt my secret will be safe with you. Keep mum about my river when +you get amongst the traders again. There's many would give their ears +for the knowledge of it. I'll tell you something: that's where I get all +my guttah and rattans. Simply inexhaustible, my boy." + +While Lingard spoke Willems looked up quickly, but soon his head fell on +his breast in the discouraging certitude that the knowledge he and Hudig +had wished for so much had come to him too late. He sat in a listless +attitude. + +"You will help Almayer in his trading if you have a heart for it," +continued Lingard, "just to kill time till I come back for you. Only six +weeks or so." + +Over their heads the damp sails fluttered noisily in the first faint +puff of the breeze; then, as the airs freshened, the brig tended to the +wind, and the silenced canvas lay quietly aback. The mate spoke with low +distinctness from the shadows of the quarter-deck. + +"There's the breeze. Which way do you want to cast her, Captain +Lingard?" + +Lingard's eyes, that had been fixed aloft, glanced down at the dejected +figure of the man sitting on the skylight. He seemed to hesitate for a +minute. + +"To the northward, to the northward," he answered, testily, as if +annoyed at his own fleeting thought, "and bear a hand there. Every puff +of wind is worth money in these seas." + +He remained motionless, listening to the rattle of blocks and the +creaking of trusses as the head-yards were hauled round. Sail was made +on the ship and the windlass manned again while he stood still, lost in +thought. He only roused himself when a barefooted seacannie glided past +him silently on his way to the wheel. + +"Put the helm aport! Hard over!" he said, in his harsh sea-voice, to the +man whose face appeared suddenly out of the darkness in the circle of +light thrown upwards from the binnacle lamps. + +The anchor was secured, the yards trimmed, and the brig began to move +out of the roadstead. The sea woke up under the push of the sharp +cutwater, and whispered softly to the gliding craft in that tender and +rippling murmur in which it speaks sometimes to those it nurses and +loves. Lingard stood by the taff-rail listening, with a pleased smile +till the Flash began to draw close to the only other vessel in the +anchorage. + +"Here, Willems," he said, calling him to his side, "d'ye see that barque +here? That's an Arab vessel. White men have mostly given up the game, +but this fellow drops in my wake often, and lives in hopes of cutting me +out in that settlement. Not while I live, I trust. You see, Willems, +I brought prosperity to that place. I composed their quarrels, and saw +them grow under my eyes. There's peace and happiness there. I am more +master there than his Dutch Excellency down in Batavia ever will be when +some day a lazy man-of-war blunders at last against the river. I mean to +keep the Arabs out of it, with their lies and their intrigues. I shall +keep the venomous breed out, if it costs me my fortune." + +The Flash drew quietly abreast of the barque, and was beginning to drop +it astern when a white figure started up on the poop of the Arab vessel, +and a voice called out-- + +"Greeting to the Rajah Laut!" + +"To you greeting!" answered Lingard, after a moment of hesitating +surprise. Then he turned to Willems with a grim smile. "That's Abdulla's +voice," he said. "Mighty civil all of a sudden, isn't he? I wonder +what it means. Just like his impudence! No matter! His civility or his +impudence are all one to me. I know that this fellow will be under way +and after me like a shot. I don't care! I have the heels of anything +that floats in these seas," he added, while his proud and loving glance +ran over and rested fondly amongst the brig's lofty and graceful spars. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +"It was the writing on his forehead," said Babalatchi, adding a couple +of small sticks to the little fire by which he was squatting, and +without looking at Lakamba who lay down supported on his elbow on the +other side of the embers. "It was written when he was born that he +should end his life in darkness, and now he is like a man walking in a +black night--with his eyes open, yet seeing not. I knew him well when he +had slaves, and many wives, and much merchandise, and trading praus, and +praus for fighting. Hai--ya! He was a great fighter in the days before +the breath of the Merciful put out the light in his eyes. He was a +pilgrim, and had many virtues: he was brave, his hand was open, and he +was a great robber. For many years he led the men that drank blood on +the sea: first in prayer and first in fight! Have I not stood behind +him when his face was turned to the West? Have I not watched by his side +ships with high masts burning in a straight flame on the calm water? +Have I not followed him on dark nights amongst sleeping men that woke up +only to die? His sword was swifter than the fire from Heaven, and struck +before it flashed. Hai! Tuan! Those were the days and that was a leader, +and I myself was younger; and in those days there were not so many +fireships with guns that deal fiery death from afar. Over the hill and +over the forest--O! Tuan Lakamba! they dropped whistling fireballs into +the creek where our praus took refuge, and where they dared not follow +men who had arms in their hands." + +He shook his head with mournful regret and threw another handful of +fuel on the fire. The burst of clear flame lit up his broad, dark, and +pock-marked face, where the big lips, stained with betel-juice, looked +like a deep and bleeding gash of a fresh wound. The reflection of the +firelight gleamed brightly in his solitary eye, lending it for a moment +a fierce animation that died out together with the short-lived flame. +With quick touches of his bare hands he raked the embers into a heap, +then, wiping the warm ash on his waistcloth--his only garment--he +clasped his thin legs with his entwined fingers, and rested his chin +on his drawn-up knees. Lakamba stirred slightly without changing his +position or taking his eyes off the glowing coals, on which they had +been fixed in dreamy immobility. + +"Yes," went on Babalatchi, in a low monotone, as if pursuing aloud a +train of thought that had its beginning in the silent contemplation of +the unstable nature of earthly greatness--"yes. He has been rich and +strong, and now he lives on alms: old, feeble, blind, and without +companions, but for his daughter. The Rajah Patalolo gives him rice, and +the pale woman--his daughter--cooks it for him, for he has no slave." + +"I saw her from afar," muttered Lakamba, disparagingly. "A she-dog with +white teeth, like a woman of the Orang-Putih." + +"Right, right," assented Babalatchi; "but you have not seen her near. +Her mother was a woman from the west; a Baghdadi woman with veiled face. +Now she goes uncovered, like our women do, for she is poor and he is +blind, and nobody ever comes near them unless to ask for a charm or a +blessing and depart quickly for fear of his anger and of the Rajah's +hand. You have not been on that side of the river?" + +"Not for a long time. If I go . . ." + +"True! true!" interrupted Babalatchi, soothingly, "but I go often +alone--for your good--and look--and listen. When the time comes; when we +both go together towards the Rajah's campong, it will be to enter--and +to remain." + +Lakamba sat up and looked at Babalatchi gloomily. + +"This is good talk, once, twice; when it is heard too often it becomes +foolish, like the prattle of children." + +"Many, many times have I seen the cloudy sky and have heard the wind of +the rainy seasons," said Babalatchi, impressively. + +"And where is your wisdom? It must be with the wind and the clouds of +seasons past, for I do not hear it in your talk." + +"Those are the words of the ungrateful!" shouted Babalatchi, with sudden +exasperation. "Verily, our only refuge is with the One, the Mighty, the +Redresser of . . ." + +"Peace! Peace!" growled the startled Lakamba. "It is but a friend's +talk." + +Babalatchi subsided into his former attitude, muttering to himself. +After awhile he went on again in a louder voice-- + +"Since the Rajah Laut left another white man here in Sambir, the +daughter of the blind Omar el Badavi has spoken to other ears than +mine." + +"Would a white man listen to a beggar's daughter?" said Lakamba, +doubtingly. + +"Hai! I have seen . . ." + +"And what did you see? O one-eyed one!" exclaimed Lakamba, +contemptuously. + +"I have seen the strange white man walking on the narrow path before +the sun could dry the drops of dew on the bushes, and I have heard the +whisper of his voice when he spoke through the smoke of the morning fire +to that woman with big eyes and a pale skin. Woman in body, but in heart +a man! She knows no fear and no shame. I have heard her voice too." + +He nodded twice at Lakamba sagaciously and gave himself up to silent +musing, his solitary eye fixed immovably upon the straight wall of +forest on the opposite bank. Lakamba lay silent, staring vacantly. Under +them Lingard's own river rippled softly amongst the piles supporting the +bamboo platform of the little watch-house before which they were lying. +Behind the house the ground rose in a gentle swell of a low hill cleared +of the big timber, but thickly overgrown with the grass and bushes, now +withered and burnt up in the long drought of the dry season. This old +rice clearing, which had been several years lying fallow, was framed +on three sides by the impenetrable and tangled growth of the untouched +forest, and on the fourth came down to the muddy river bank. There +was not a breath of wind on the land or river, but high above, in the +transparent sky, little clouds rushed past the moon, now appearing in +her diffused rays with the brilliance of silver, now obscuring her face +with the blackness of ebony. Far away, in the middle of the river, a +fish would leap now and then with a short splash, the very loudness of +which measured the profundity of the overpowering silence that swallowed +up the sharp sound suddenly. + +Lakamba dozed uneasily off, but the wakeful Babalatchi sat thinking +deeply, sighing from time to time, and slapping himself over his naked +torso incessantly in a vain endeavour to keep off an occasional and +wandering mosquito that, rising as high as the platform above the swarms +of the riverside, would settle with a ping of triumph on the unexpected +victim. The moon, pursuing her silent and toilsome path, attained +her highest elevation, and chasing the shadow of the roof-eaves from +Lakamba's face, seemed to hang arrested over their heads. Babalatchi +revived the fire and woke up his companion, who sat up yawning and +shivering discontentedly. + +Babalatchi spoke again in a voice which was like the murmur of a brook +that runs over the stones: low, monotonous, persistent; irresistible +in its power to wear out and to destroy the hardest obstacles. Lakamba +listened, silent but interested. They were Malay adventurers; ambitious +men of that place and time; the Bohemians of their race. In the early +days of the settlement, before the ruler Patalolo had shaken off his +allegiance to the Sultan of Koti, Lakamba appeared in the river with +two small trading vessels. He was disappointed to find already some +semblance of organization amongst the settlers of various races who +recognized the unobtrusive sway of old Patalolo, and he was not politic +enough to conceal his disappointment. He declared himself to be a man +from the east, from those parts where no white man ruled, and to be of +an oppressed race, but of a princely family. And truly enough he had +all the gifts of an exiled prince. He was discontented, ungrateful, +turbulent; a man full of envy and ready for intrigue, with brave words +and empty promises for ever on his lips. He was obstinate, but his will +was made up of short impulses that never lasted long enough to carry him +to the goal of his ambition. Received coldly by the suspicious Patalolo, +he persisted--permission or no permission--in clearing the ground on +a good spot some fourteen miles down the river from Sambir, and built +himself a house there, which he fortified by a high palisade. As he had +many followers and seemed very reckless, the old Rajah did not think +it prudent at the time to interfere with him by force. Once settled, he +began to intrigue. The quarrel of Patalolo with the Sultan of Koti was +of his fomenting, but failed to produce the result he expected because +the Sultan could not back him up effectively at such a great distance. +Disappointed in that scheme, he promptly organized an outbreak of the +Bugis settlers, and besieged the old Rajah in his stockade with much +noisy valour and a fair chance of success; but Lingard then appeared on +the scene with the armed brig, and the old seaman's hairy forefinger, +shaken menacingly in his face, quelled his martial ardour. No man cared +to encounter the Rajah Laut, and Lakamba, with momentary resignation, +subsided into a half-cultivator, half-trader, and nursed in his +fortified house his wrath and his ambition, keeping it for use on a +more propitious occasion. Still faithful to his character of a +prince-pretender, he would not recognize the constituted authorities, +answering sulkily the Rajah's messenger, who claimed the tribute for the +cultivated fields, that the Rajah had better come and take it himself. +By Lingard's advice he was left alone, notwithstanding his rebellious +mood; and for many days he lived undisturbed amongst his wives and +retainers, cherishing that persistent and causeless hope of better +times, the possession of which seems to be the universal privilege of +exiled greatness. + +But the passing days brought no change. The hope grew faint and the +hot ambition burnt itself out, leaving only a feeble and expiring spark +amongst a heap of dull and tepid ashes of indolent acquiescence with the +decrees of Fate, till Babalatchi fanned it again into a bright flame. +Babalatchi had blundered upon the river while in search of a safe refuge +for his disreputable head. + +He was a vagabond of the seas, a true Orang-Laut, living by rapine and +plunder of coasts and ships in his prosperous days; earning his living +by honest and irksome toil when the days of adversity were upon him. So, +although at times leading the Sulu rovers, he had also served as Serang +of country ships, and in that wise had visited the distant seas, +beheld the glories of Bombay, the might of the Mascati Sultan; had even +struggled in a pious throng for the privilege of touching with his lips +the Sacred Stone of the Holy City. He gathered experience and wisdom in +many lands, and after attaching himself to Omar el Badavi, he affected +great piety (as became a pilgrim), although unable to read the inspired +words of the Prophet. He was brave and bloodthirsty without any +affection, and he hated the white men who interfered with the manly +pursuits of throat-cutting, kidnapping, slave-dealing, and fire-raising, +that were the only possible occupation for a true man of the sea. He +found favour in the eyes of his chief, the fearless Omar el Badavi, the +leader of Brunei rovers, whom he followed with unquestioning loyalty +through the long years of successful depredation. And when that long +career of murder, robbery and violence received its first serious check +at the hands of white men, he stood faithfully by his chief, looked +steadily at the bursting shells, was undismayed by the flames of the +burning stronghold, by the death of his companions, by the shrieks +of their women, the wailing of their children; by the sudden ruin and +destruction of all that he deemed indispensable to a happy and glorious +existence. The beaten ground between the houses was slippery with blood, +and the dark mangroves of the muddy creeks were full of sighs of the +dying men who were stricken down before they could see their enemy. They +died helplessly, for into the tangled forest there was no escape, and +their swift praus, in which they had so often scoured the coast and the +seas, now wedged together in the narrow creek, were burning fiercely. +Babalatchi, with the clear perception of the coming end, devoted all his +energies to saving if it was but only one of them. He succeeded in time. +When the end came in the explosion of the stored powder-barrels, he was +ready to look for his chief. He found him half dead and totally blinded, +with nobody near him but his daughter Aissa:--the sons had fallen +earlier in the day, as became men of their courage. Helped by the girl +with the steadfast heart, Babalatchi carried Omar on board the light +prau and succeeded in escaping, but with very few companions only. As +they hauled their craft into the network of dark and silent creeks, they +could hear the cheering of the crews of the man-of-war's boats dashing +to the attack of the rover's village. Aissa, sitting on the high +after-deck, her father's blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked +up with fearless eyes at Babalatchi. "They shall find only smoke, blood +and dead men, and women mad with fear there, but nothing else living," +she said, mournfully. Babalatchi, pressing with his right hand the deep +gash on his shoulder, answered sadly: "They are very strong. When we +fight with them we can only die. Yet," he added, menacingly--"some of us +still live! Some of us still live!" + +For a short time he dreamed of vengeance, but his dream was dispelled by +the cold reception of the Sultan of Sulu, with whom they sought refuge +at first and who gave them only a contemptuous and grudging hospitality. +While Omar, nursed by Aissa, was recovering from his wounds, Babalatchi +attended industriously before the exalted Presence that had extended to +them the hand of Protection. For all that, when Babalatchi spoke into +the Sultan's ear certain proposals of a great and profitable raid, that +was to sweep the islands from Ternate to Acheen, the Sultan was very +angry. "I know you, you men from the west," he exclaimed, angrily. "Your +words are poison in a Ruler's ears. Your talk is of fire and murder +and booty--but on our heads falls the vengeance of the blood you drink. +Begone!" + +There was nothing to be done. Times were changed. So changed that, when +a Spanish frigate appeared before the island and a demand was sent +to the Sultan to deliver Omar and his companions, Babalatchi was +not surprised to hear that they were going to be made the victims of +political expediency. But from that sane appreciation of danger to tame +submission was a very long step. And then began Omar's second flight. It +began arms in hand, for the little band had to fight in the night on +the beach for the possession of the small canoes in which those that +survived got away at last. The story of that escape lives in the hearts +of brave men even to this day. They talk of Babalatchi and of the strong +woman who carried her blind father through the surf under the fire +of the warship from the north. The companions of that piratical and +son-less Aeneas are dead now, but their ghosts wander over the waters +and the islands at night--after the manner of ghosts--and haunt the +fires by which sit armed men, as is meet for the spirits of fearless +warriors who died in battle. There they may hear the story of their own +deeds, of their own courage, suffering and death, on the lips of living +men. That story is told in many places. On the cool mats in breezy +verandahs of Rajahs' houses it is alluded to disdainfully by impassive +statesmen, but amongst armed men that throng the courtyards it is a tale +which stills the murmur of voices and the tinkle of anklets; arrests the +passage of the siri-vessel, and fixes the eyes in absorbed gaze. They +talk of the fight, of the fearless woman, of the wise man; of long +suffering on the thirsty sea in leaky canoes; of those who died. . . . +Many died. A few survived. The chief, the woman, and another one who +became great. + +There was no hint of incipient greatness in Babalatchi's unostentatious +arrival in Sambir. He came with Omar and Aissa in a small prau loaded +with green cocoanuts, and claimed the ownership of both vessel and +cargo. How it came to pass that Babalatchi, fleeing for his life in a +small canoe, managed to end his hazardous journey in a vessel full of a +valuable commodity, is one of those secrets of the sea that baffle +the most searching inquiry. In truth nobody inquired much. There were +rumours of a missing trading prau belonging to Menado, but they were +vague and remained mysterious. Babalatchi told a story which--it must be +said in justice to Patalolo's knowledge of the world--was not believed. +When the Rajah ventured to state his doubts, Babalatchi asked him in +tones of calm remonstrance whether he could reasonably suppose that two +oldish men--who had only one eye amongst them--and a young woman were +likely to gain possession of anything whatever by violence? Charity was +a virtue recommended by the Prophet. There were charitable people, and +their hand was open to the deserving. Patalolo wagged his aged head +doubtingly, and Babalatchi withdrew with a shocked mien and put himself +forthwith under Lakamba's protection. The two men who completed the +prau's crew followed him into that magnate's campong. The blind +Omar, with Aissa, remained under the care of the Rajah, and the Rajah +confiscated the cargo. The prau hauled up on the mud-bank, at the +junction of the two branches of the Pantai, rotted in the rain, warped +in the sun, fell to pieces and gradually vanished into the smoke of +household fires of the settlement. Only a forgotten plank and a rib or +two, sticking neglected in the shiny ooze for a long time, served to +remind Babalatchi during many months that he was a stranger in the land. + +Otherwise, he felt perfectly at home in Lakamba's establishment, where +his peculiar position and influence were quickly recognized and soon +submitted to even by the women. He had all a true vagabond's pliability +to circumstances and adaptiveness to momentary surroundings. In his +readiness to learn from experience that contempt for early principles +so necessary to a true statesman, he equalled the most successful +politicians of any age; and he had enough persuasiveness and firmness +of purpose to acquire a complete mastery over Lakamba's vacillating +mind--where there was nothing stable but an all-pervading discontent. +He kept the discontent alive, he rekindled the expiring ambition, he +moderated the poor exile's not unnatural impatience to attain a high +and lucrative position. He--the man of violence--deprecated the use of +force, for he had a clear comprehension of the difficult situation. From +the same cause, he--the hater of white men--would to some extent admit +the eventual expediency of Dutch protection. But nothing should be done +in a hurry. Whatever his master Lakamba might think, there was no use in +poisoning old Patalolo, he maintained. It could be done, of course; +but what then? As long as Lingard's influence was paramount--as long +as Almayer, Lingard's representative, was the only great trader of +the settlement, it was not worth Lakamba's while--even if it had been +possible--to grasp the rule of the young state. Killing Almayer and +Lingard was so difficult and so risky that it might be dismissed as +impracticable. What was wanted was an alliance; somebody to set up +against the white men's influence--and somebody who, while favourable to +Lakamba, would at the same time be a person of a good standing with +the Dutch authorities. A rich and considered trader was wanted. Such a +person once firmly established in Sambir would help them to oust the old +Rajah, to remove him from power or from life if there was no other way. +Then it would be time to apply to the Orang Blanda for a flag; for a +recognition of their meritorious services; for that protection which +would make them safe for ever! The word of a rich and loyal trader would +mean something with the Ruler down in Batavia. The first thing to do +was to find such an ally and to induce him to settle in Sambir. A +white trader would not do. A white man would not fall in with their +ideas--would not be trustworthy. The man they wanted should be rich, +unscrupulous, have many followers, and be a well-known personality +in the islands. Such a man might be found amongst the Arab traders. +Lingard's jealousy, said Babalatchi, kept all the traders out of the +river. Some were afraid, and some did not know how to get there; others +ignored the very existence of Sambir; a good many did not think it +worth their while to run the risk of Lingard's enmity for the doubtful +advantage of trade with a comparatively unknown settlement. The great +majority were undesirable or untrustworthy. And Babalatchi mentioned +regretfully the men he had known in his young days: wealthy, resolute, +courageous, reckless, ready for any enterprise! But why lament the past +and speak about the dead? There is one man--living--great--not far +off . . . + +Such was Babalatchi's line of policy laid before his ambitious +protector. Lakamba assented, his only objection being that it was +very slow work. In his extreme desire to grasp dollars and power, the +unintellectual exile was ready to throw himself into the arms of +any wandering cut-throat whose help could be secured, and Babalatchi +experienced great difficulty in restraining him from unconsidered +violence. It would not do to let it be seen that they had any hand in +introducing a new element into the social and political life of Sambir. +There was always a possibility of failure, and in that case Lingard's +vengeance would be swift and certain. No risk should be run. They must +wait. + +Meantime he pervaded the settlement, squatting in the course of each +day by many household fires, testing the public temper and public +opinion--and always talking about his impending departure. + +At night he would often take Lakamba's smallest canoe and depart +silently to pay mysterious visits to his old chief on the other side of +the river. Omar lived in odour of sanctity under the wing of Patalolo. +Between the bamboo fence, enclosing the houses of the Rajah, and the +wild forest, there was a banana plantation, and on its further edge +stood two little houses built on low piles under a few precious fruit +trees that grew on the banks of a clear brook, which, bubbling up behind +the house, ran in its short and rapid course down to the big river. +Along the brook a narrow path led through the dense second growth of +a neglected clearing to the banana plantation and to the houses in it +which the Rajah had given for residence to Omar. The Rajah was greatly +impressed by Omar's ostentatious piety, by his oracular wisdom, by +his many misfortunes, by the solemn fortitude with which he bore his +affliction. Often the old ruler of Sambir would visit informally the +blind Arab and listen gravely to his talk during the hot hours of an +afternoon. In the night, Babalatchi would call and interrupt Omar's +repose, unrebuked. Aissa, standing silently at the door of one of the +huts, could see the two old friends as they sat very still by the fire +in the middle of the beaten ground between the two houses, talking in +an indistinct murmur far into the night. She could not hear their words, +but she watched the two formless shadows curiously. Finally Babalatchi +would rise and, taking her father by the wrist, would lead him back +to the house, arrange his mats for him, and go out quietly. Instead of +going away, Babalatchi, unconscious of Aissa's eyes, often sat again by +the fire, in a long and deep meditation. Aissa looked with respect on +that wise and brave man--she was accustomed to see at her father's +side as long as she could remember--sitting alone and thoughtful in +the silent night by the dying fire, his body motionless and his mind +wandering in the land of memories, or--who knows?--perhaps groping for a +road in the waste spaces of the uncertain future. + +Babalatchi noted the arrival of Willems with alarm at this new accession +to the white men's strength. Afterwards he changed his opinion. He met +Willems one night on the path leading to Omar's house, and noticed later +on, with only a moderate surprise, that the blind Arab did not seem +to be aware of the new white man's visits to the neighbourhood of his +dwelling. Once, coming unexpectedly in the daytime, Babalatchi fancied +he could see the gleam of a white jacket in the bushes on the other side +of the brook. That day he watched Aissa pensively as she moved about +preparing the evening rice; but after awhile he went hurriedly away +before sunset, refusing Omar's hospitable invitation, in the name of +Allah, to share their meal. That same evening he startled Lakamba by +announcing that the time had come at last to make the first move in +their long-deferred game. Lakamba asked excitedly for explanation. +Babalatchi shook his head and pointed to the flitting shadows of moving +women and to the vague forms of men sitting by the evening fires in the +courtyard. Not a word would he speak here, he declared. But when the +whole household was reposing, Babalatchi and Lakamba passed silent +amongst sleeping groups to the riverside, and, taking a canoe, paddled +off stealthily on their way to the dilapidated guard-hut in the old +rice-clearing. There they were safe from all eyes and ears, and could +account, if need be, for their excursion by the wish to kill a deer, the +spot being well known as the drinking-place of all kinds of game. In +the seclusion of its quiet solitude Babalatchi explained his plan to +the attentive Lakamba. His idea was to make use of Willems for the +destruction of Lingard's influence. + +"I know the white men, Tuan," he said, in conclusion. "In many lands +have I seen them; always the slaves of their desires, always ready to +give up their strength and their reason into the hands of some woman. +The fate of the Believers is written by the hand of the Mighty One, +but they who worship many gods are thrown into the world with smooth +foreheads, for any woman's hand to mark their destruction there. Let one +white man destroy another. The will of the Most High is that they should +be fools. They know how to keep faith with their enemies, but towards +each other they know only deception. Hai! I have seen! I have seen!" + +He stretched himself full length before the fire, and closed his eye in +real or simulated sleep. Lakamba, not quite convinced, sat for a long +time with his gaze riveted on the dull embers. As the night advanced, +a slight white mist rose from the river, and the declining moon, bowed +over the tops of the forest, seemed to seek the repose of the earth, +like a wayward and wandering lover who returns at last to lay his tired +and silent head on his beloved's breast. + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +"Lend me your gun, Almayer," said Willems, across the table on which a +smoky lamp shone redly above the disorder of a finished meal. "I have a +mind to go and look for a deer when the moon rises to-night." + +Almayer, sitting sidewise to the table, his elbow pushed amongst the +dirty plates, his chin on his breast and his legs stretched stiffly out, +kept his eyes steadily on the toes of his grass slippers and laughed +abruptly. + +"You might say yes or no instead of making that unpleasant noise," +remarked Willems, with calm irritation. + +"If I believed one word of what you say, I would," answered Almayer +without changing his attitude and speaking slowly, with pauses, as if +dropping his words on the floor. "As it is--what's the use? You know +where the gun is; you may take it or leave it. Gun. Deer. Bosh! Hunt +deer! Pah! It's a . . . gazelle you are after, my honoured guest. You +want gold anklets and silk sarongs for that game--my mighty hunter. And +you won't get those for the asking, I promise you. All day amongst the +natives. A fine help you are to me." + +"You shouldn't drink so much, Almayer," said Willems, disguising his +fury under an affected drawl. "You have no head. Never had, as far as I +can remember, in the old days in Macassar. You drink too much." + +"I drink my own," retorted Almayer, lifting his head quickly and darting +an angry glance at Willems. + +Those two specimens of the superior race glared at each other savagely +for a minute, then turned away their heads at the same moment as if by +previous arrangement, and both got up. Almayer kicked off his slippers +and scrambled into his hammock, which hung between two wooden columns +of the verandah so as to catch every rare breeze of the dry season, +and Willems, after standing irresolutely by the table for a short time, +walked without a word down the steps of the house and over the courtyard +towards the little wooden jetty, where several small canoes and a couple +of big white whale-boats were made fast, tugging at their short painters +and bumping together in the swift current of the river. He jumped into +the smallest canoe, balancing himself clumsily, slipped the rattan +painter, and gave an unnecessary and violent shove, which nearly sent +him headlong overboard. By the time he regained his balance the canoe +had drifted some fifty yards down the river. He knelt in the bottom of +his little craft and fought the current with long sweeps of the paddle. +Almayer sat up in his hammock, grasping his feet and peering over the +river with parted lips till he made out the shadowy form of man and +canoe as they struggled past the jetty again. + +"I thought you would go," he shouted. "Won't you take the gun? Hey?" +he yelled, straining his voice. Then he fell back in his hammock and +laughed to himself feebly till he fell asleep. On the river, Willems, +his eyes fixed intently ahead, swept his paddle right and left, +unheeding the words that reached him faintly. + +It was now three months since Lingard had landed Willems in Sambir and +had departed hurriedly, leaving him in Almayer's care. + +The two white men did not get on well together. Almayer, remembering the +time when they both served Hudig, and when the superior Willems treated +him with offensive condescension, felt a great dislike towards his +guest. He was also jealous of Lingard's favour. Almayer had married a +Malay girl whom the old seaman had adopted in one of his accesses of +unreasoning benevolence, and as the marriage was not a happy one from a +domestic point of view, he looked to Lingard's fortune for compensation +in his matrimonial unhappiness. The appearance of that man, who seemed +to have a claim of some sort upon Lingard, filled him with considerable +uneasiness, the more so because the old seaman did not choose to +acquaint the husband of his adopted daughter with Willems' history, or +to confide to him his intentions as to that individual's future fate. +Suspicious from the first, Almayer discouraged Willems' attempts to +help him in his trading, and then when Willems drew back, he made, with +characteristic perverseness, a grievance of his unconcern. From cold +civility in their relations, the two men drifted into silent hostility, +then into outspoken enmity, and both wished ardently for Lingard's +return and the end of a situation that grew more intolerable from day +to day. The time dragged slowly. Willems watched the succeeding sunrises +wondering dismally whether before the evening some change would occur +in the deadly dullness of his life. He missed the commercial activity of +that existence which seemed to him far off, irreparably lost, buried out +of sight under the ruins of his past success--now gone from him beyond +the possibility of redemption. He mooned disconsolately about Almayer's +courtyard, watching from afar, with uninterested eyes, the up-country +canoes discharging guttah or rattans, and loading rice or European goods +on the little wharf of Lingard & Co. Big as was the extent of ground +owned by Almayer, Willems yet felt that there was not enough room for +him inside those neat fences. The man who, during long years, became +accustomed to think of himself as indispensable to others, felt a bitter +and savage rage at the cruel consciousness of his superfluity, of his +uselessness; at the cold hostility visible in every look of the only +white man in this barbarous corner of the world. He gnashed his teeth +when he thought of the wasted days, of the life thrown away in the +unwilling company of that peevish and suspicious fool. He heard the +reproach of his idleness in the murmurs of the river, in the unceasing +whisper of the great forests. Round him everything stirred, moved, swept +by in a rush; the earth under his feet and the heavens above his head. +The very savages around him strove, struggled, fought, worked--if only +to prolong a miserable existence; but they lived, they lived! And it was +only himself that seemed to be left outside the scheme of creation in a +hopeless immobility filled with tormenting anger and with ever-stinging +regret. + +He took to wandering about the settlement. The afterwards flourishing +Sambir was born in a swamp and passed its youth in malodorous mud. +The houses crowded the bank, and, as if to get away from the unhealthy +shore, stepped boldly into the river, shooting over it in a close row of +bamboo platforms elevated on high piles, amongst which the current below +spoke in a soft and unceasing plaint of murmuring eddies. There was only +one path in the whole town and it ran at the back of the houses along +the succession of blackened circular patches that marked the place of +the household fires. On the other side the virgin forest bordered the +path, coming close to it, as if to provoke impudently any passer-by to +the solution of the gloomy problem of its depths. Nobody would accept +the deceptive challenge. There were only a few feeble attempts at a +clearing here and there, but the ground was low and the river, retiring +after its yearly floods, left on each a gradually diminishing mudhole, +where the imported buffaloes of the Bugis settlers wallowed happily +during the heat of the day. When Willems walked on the path, the +indolent men stretched on the shady side of the houses looked at him +with calm curiosity, the women busy round the cooking fires would send +after him wondering and timid glances, while the children would only +look once, and then run away yelling with fright at the horrible +appearance of the man with a red and white face. These manifestations +of childish disgust and fear stung Willems with a sense of absurd +humiliation; he sought in his walks the comparative solitude of the +rudimentary clearings, but the very buffaloes snorted with alarm at his +sight, scrambled lumberingly out of the cool mud and stared wildly in a +compact herd at him as he tried to slink unperceived along the edge of +the forest. One day, at some unguarded and sudden movement of his, the +whole herd stampeded down the path, scattered the fires, sent the women +flying with shrill cries, and left behind a track of smashed pots, +trampled rice, overturned children, and a crowd of angry men brandishing +sticks in loud-voiced pursuit. The innocent cause of that disturbance +ran shamefacedly the gauntlet of black looks and unfriendly remarks, +and hastily sought refuge in Almayer's campong. After that he left the +settlement alone. + +Later, when the enforced confinement grew irksome, Willems took one +of Almayer's many canoes and crossed the main branch of the Pantai in +search of some solitary spot where he could hide his discouragement +and his weariness. He skirted in his little craft the wall of tangled +verdure, keeping in the dead water close to the bank where the spreading +nipa palms nodded their broad leaves over his head as if in contemptuous +pity of the wandering outcast. Here and there he could see the +beginnings of chopped-out pathways, and, with the fixed idea of getting +out of sight of the busy river, he would land and follow the narrow and +winding path, only to find that it led nowhere, ending abruptly in +the discouragement of thorny thickets. He would go back slowly, with a +bitter sense of unreasonable disappointment and sadness; oppressed by +the hot smell of earth, dampness, and decay in that forest which seemed +to push him mercilessly back into the glittering sunshine of the +river. And he would recommence paddling with tired arms to seek another +opening, to find another deception. + +As he paddled up to the point where the Rajah's stockade came down to +the river, the nipas were left behind rattling their leaves over the +brown water, and the big trees would appear on the bank, tall, strong, +indifferent in the immense solidity of their life, which endures for +ages, to that short and fleeting life in the heart of the man who crept +painfully amongst their shadows in search of a refuge from the unceasing +reproach of his thoughts. Amongst their smooth trunks a clear brook +meandered for a time in twining lacets before it made up its mind to +take a leap into the hurrying river, over the edge of the steep bank. +There was also a pathway there and it seemed frequented. Willems landed, +and following the capricious promise of the track soon found himself in +a comparatively clear space, where the confused tracery of sunlight fell +through the branches and the foliage overhead, and lay on the stream +that shone in an easy curve like a bright sword-blade dropped amongst +the long and feathery grass. + +Further on, the path continued, narrowed again in the thick undergrowth. +At the end of the first turning Willems saw a flash of white and colour, +a gleam of gold like a sun-ray lost in shadow, and a vision of blackness +darker than the deepest shade of the forest. He stopped, surprised, +and fancied he had heard light footsteps--growing lighter--ceasing. +He looked around. The grass on the bank of the stream trembled and a +tremulous path of its shivering, silver-grey tops ran from the water to +the beginning of the thicket. And yet there was not a breath of wind. +Somebody kind passed there. He looked pensive while the tremor died out +in a quick tremble under his eyes; and the grass stood high, unstirring, +with drooping heads in the warm and motionless air. + +He hurried on, driven by a suddenly awakened curiosity, and entered the +narrow way between the bushes. At the next turn of the path he caught +again the glimpse of coloured stuff and of a woman's black hair before +him. He hastened his pace and came in full view of the object of his +pursuit. The woman, who was carrying two bamboo vessels full of water, +heard his footsteps, stopped, and putting the bamboos down half turned +to look back. Willems also stood still for a minute, then walked +steadily on with a firm tread, while the woman moved aside to let +him pass. He kept his eyes fixed straight before him, yet almost +unconsciously he took in every detail of the tall and graceful figure. +As he approached her the woman tossed her head slightly back, and with a +free gesture of her strong, round arm, caught up the mass of loose black +hair and brought it over her shoulder and across the lower part of her +face. The next moment he was passing her close, walking rigidly, like a +man in a trance. He heard her rapid breathing and he felt the touch of +a look darted at him from half-open eyes. It touched his brain and his +heart together. It seemed to him to be something loud and stirring like +a shout, silent and penetrating like an inspiration. The momentum of his +motion carried him past her, but an invisible force made up of surprise +and curiosity and desire spun him round as soon as he had passed. + +She had taken up her burden already, with the intention of pursuing her +path. His sudden movement arrested her at the first step, and again she +stood straight, slim, expectant, with a readiness to dart away suggested +in the light immobility of her pose. High above, the branches of the +trees met in a transparent shimmer of waving green mist, through which +the rain of yellow rays descended upon her head, streamed in glints down +her black tresses, shone with the changing glow of liquid metal on her +face, and lost itself in vanishing sparks in the sombre depths of her +eyes that, wide open now, with enlarged pupils, looked steadily at the +man in her path. And Willems stared at her, charmed with a charm that +carries with it a sense of irreparable loss, tingling with that feeling +which begins like a caress and ends in a blow, in that sudden hurt of a +new emotion making its way into a human heart, with the brusque stirring +of sleeping sensations awakening suddenly to the rush of new hopes, new +fears, new desires--and to the flight of one's old self. + +She moved a step forward and again halted. A breath of wind that came +through the trees, but in Willems' fancy seemed to be driven by her +moving figure, rippled in a hot wave round his body and scorched his +face in a burning touch. He drew it in with a long breath, the last +long breath of a soldier before the rush of battle, of a lover before +he takes in his arms the adored woman; the breath that gives courage to +confront the menace of death or the storm of passion. + +Who was she? Where did she come from? Wonderingly he took his eyes off +her face to look round at the serried trees of the forest that stood big +and still and straight, as if watching him and her breathlessly. He +had been baffled, repelled, almost frightened by the intensity of that +tropical life which wants the sunshine but works in gloom; which seems +to be all grace of colour and form, all brilliance, all smiles, but is +only the blossoming of the dead; whose mystery holds the promise of +joy and beauty, yet contains nothing but poison and decay. He had been +frightened by the vague perception of danger before, but now, as he +looked at that life again, his eyes seemed able to pierce the fantastic +veil of creepers and leaves, to look past the solid trunks, to see +through the forbidding gloom--and the mystery was disclosed--enchanting, +subduing, beautiful. He looked at the woman. Through the checkered light +between them she appeared to him with the impalpable distinctness of +a dream. The very spirit of that land of mysterious forests, standing +before him like an apparition behind a transparent veil--a veil woven of +sunbeams and shadows. + +She had approached him still nearer. He felt a strange impatience +within him at her advance. Confused thoughts rushed through his head, +disordered, shapeless, stunning. Then he heard his own voice asking-- + +"Who are you?" + +"I am the daughter of the blind Omar," she answered, in a low but +steady tone. "And you," she went on, a little louder, "you are the white +trader--the great man of this place." + +"Yes," said Willems, holding her eyes with his in a sense of extreme +effort, "Yes, I am white." Then he added, feeling as if he spoke about +some other man, "But I am the outcast of my people." + +She listened to him gravely. Through the mesh of scattered hair her +face looked like the face of a golden statue with living eyes. The heavy +eyelids dropped slightly, and from between the long eyelashes she sent +out a sidelong look: hard, keen, and narrow, like the gleam of sharp +steel. Her lips were firm and composed in a graceful curve, but the +distended nostrils, the upward poise of the half-averted head, gave to +her whole person the expression of a wild and resentful defiance. + +A shadow passed over Willems' face. He put his hand over his lips as if +to keep back the words that wanted to come out in a surge of impulsive +necessity, the outcome of dominant thought that rushes from the heart to +the brain and must be spoken in the face of doubt, of danger, of fear, +of destruction itself. + +"You are beautiful," he whispered. + +She looked at him again with a glance that running in one quick flash of +her eyes over his sunburnt features, his broad shoulders, his straight, +tall, motionless figure, rested at last on the ground at his feet. Then +she smiled. In the sombre beauty of her face that smile was like the +first ray of light on a stormy daybreak that darts evanescent and pale +through the gloomy clouds: the forerunner of sunrise and of thunder. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +There are in our lives short periods which hold no place in memory +but only as the recollection of a feeling. There is no remembrance of +gesture, of action, of any outward manifestation of life; those are lost +in the unearthly brilliance or in the unearthly gloom of such moments. +We are absorbed in the contemplation of that something, within our +bodies, which rejoices or suffers while the body goes on breathing, +instinctively runs away or, not less instinctively, fights--perhaps +dies. But death in such a moment is the privilege of the fortunate, it +is a high and rare favour, a supreme grace. + +Willems never remembered how and when he parted from Aissa. He caught +himself drinking the muddy water out of the hollow of his hand, while +his canoe was drifting in mid-stream past the last houses of Sambir. +With his returning wits came the fear of something unknown that had +taken possession of his heart, of something inarticulate and masterful +which could not speak and would be obeyed. His first impulse was that of +revolt. He would never go back there. Never! He looked round slowly at +the brilliance of things in the deadly sunshine and took up his paddle! +How changed everything seemed! The river was broader, the sky was +higher. How fast the canoe flew under the strokes of his paddle! Since +when had he acquired the strength of two men or more? He looked up and +down the reach at the forests of the bank with a confused notion that +with one sweep of his hand he could tumble all these trees into the +stream. His face felt burning. He drank again, and shuddered with a +depraved sense of pleasure at the after-taste of slime in the water. + +It was late when he reached Almayer's house, but he crossed the dark and +uneven courtyard, walking lightly in the radiance of some light of his +own, invisible to other eyes. His host's sulky greeting jarred him +like a sudden fall down a great height. He took his place at the table +opposite Almayer and tried to speak cheerfully to his gloomy companion, +but when the meal was ended and they sat smoking in silence he felt an +abrupt discouragement, a lassitude in all his limbs, a sense of immense +sadness as after some great and irreparable loss. The darkness of the +night entered his heart, bringing with it doubt and hesitation and +dull anger with himself and all the world. He had an impulse to shout +horrible curses, to quarrel with Almayer, to do something violent. Quite +without any immediate provocation he thought he would like to assault +the wretched, sulky beast. He glanced at him ferociously from under +his eyebrows. The unconscious Almayer smoked thoughtfully, planning +to-morrow's work probably. The man's composure seemed to Willems an +unpardonable insult. Why didn't that idiot talk to-night when he wanted +him to? . . . on other nights he was ready enough to chatter. And such +dull nonsense too! And Willems, trying hard to repress his own senseless +rage, looked fixedly through the thick tobacco-smoke at the stained +tablecloth. + +They retired early, as usual, but in the middle of the night Willems +leaped out of his hammock with a stifled execration and ran down the +steps into the courtyard. The two night watchmen, who sat by a little +fire talking together in a monotonous undertone, lifted their heads +to look wonderingly at the discomposed features of the white man as he +crossed the circle of light thrown out by their fire. He disappeared in +the darkness and then came back again, passing them close, but with +no sign of consciousness of their presence on his face. Backwards and +forwards he paced, muttering to himself, and the two Malays, after a +short consultation in whispers left the fire quietly, not thinking it +safe to remain in the vicinity of a white man who behaved in such a +strange manner. They retired round the corner of the godown and watched +Willems curiously through the night, till the short daybreak was +followed by the sudden blaze of the rising sun, and Almayer's +establishment woke up to life and work. + +As soon as he could get away unnoticed in the bustle of the busy +riverside, Willems crossed the river on his way to the place where he +had met Aissa. He threw himself down in the grass by the side of the +brook and listened for the sound of her footsteps. The brilliant light +of day fell through the irregular opening in the high branches of the +trees and streamed down, softened, amongst the shadows of big trunks. +Here and there a narrow sunbeam touched the rugged bark of a tree with a +golden splash, sparkled on the leaping water of the brook, or rested +on a leaf that stood out, shimmering and distinct, on the monotonous +background of sombre green tints. The clear gap of blue above his head +was crossed by the quick flight of white rice-birds whose wings flashed +in the sunlight, while through it the heat poured down from the sky, +clung about the steaming earth, rolled among the trees, and wrapped up +Willems in the soft and odorous folds of air heavy with the faint scent +of blossoms and with the acrid smell of decaying life. And in that +atmosphere of Nature's workshop Willems felt soothed and lulled into +forgetfulness of his past, into indifference as to his future. The +recollections of his triumphs, of his wrongs and of his ambition +vanished in that warmth, which seemed to melt all regrets, all hope, +all anger, all strength out of his heart. And he lay there, dreamily +contented, in the tepid and perfumed shelter, thinking of Aissa's eyes; +recalling the sound of her voice, the quiver of her lips--her frowns and +her smile. + +She came, of course. To her he was something new, unknown and strange. +He was bigger, stronger than any man she had seen before, and altogether +different from all those she knew. He was of the victorious race. With +a vivid remembrance of the great catastrophe of her life he appeared to +her with all the fascination of a great and dangerous thing; of a terror +vanquished, surmounted, made a plaything of. They spoke with just such +a deep voice--those victorious men; they looked with just such hard +blue eyes at their enemies. And she made that voice speak softly to her, +those eyes look tenderly at her face! He was indeed a man. She could not +understand all he told her of his life, but the fragments she understood +she made up for herself into a story of a man great amongst his own +people, valorous and unfortunate; an undaunted fugitive dreaming of +vengeance against his enemies. He had all the attractiveness of the +vague and the unknown--of the unforeseen and of the sudden; of a being +strong, dangerous, alive, and human, ready to be enslaved. + +She felt that he was ready. She felt it with the unerring intuition of a +primitive woman confronted by a simple impulse. Day after day, when they +met and she stood a little way off, listening to his words, holding him +with her look, the undefined terror of the new conquest became faint and +blurred like the memory of a dream, and the certitude grew distinct, +and convincing, and visible to the eyes like some material thing in full +sunlight. It was a deep joy, a great pride, a tangible sweetness that +seemed to leave the taste of honey on her lips. He lay stretched at her +feet without moving, for he knew from experience how a slight movement +of his could frighten her away in those first days of their intercourse. +He lay very quiet, with all the ardour of his desire ringing in his +voice and shining in his eyes, whilst his body was still, like death +itself. And he looked at her, standing above him, her head lost in the +shadow of broad and graceful leaves that touched her cheek; while the +slender spikes of pale green orchids streamed down from amongst the +boughs and mingled with the black hair that framed her face, as if +all those plants claimed her for their own--the animated and brilliant +flower of all that exuberant life which, born in gloom, struggles for +ever towards the sunshine. + +Every day she came a little nearer. He watched her slow progress--the +gradual taming of that woman by the words of his love. It was the +monotonous song of praise and desire that, commencing at creation, wraps +up the world like an atmosphere and shall end only in the end of all +things--when there are no lips to sing and no ears to hear. He told +her that she was beautiful and desirable, and he repeated it again +and again; for when he told her that, he had said all there was within +him--he had expressed his only thought, his only feeling. And he watched +the startled look of wonder and mistrust vanish from her face with the +passing days, her eyes soften, the smile dwell longer and longer on her +lips; a smile as of one charmed by a delightful dream; with the slight +exaltation of intoxicating triumph lurking in its dawning tenderness. + +And while she was near there was nothing in the whole world--for that +idle man--but her look and her smile. Nothing in the past, nothing in +the future; and in the present only the luminous fact of her existence. +But in the sudden darkness of her going he would be left weak and +helpless, as though despoiled violently of all that was himself. He who +had lived all his life with no preoccupation but that of his own career, +contemptuously indifferent to all feminine influence, full of scorn +for men that would submit to it, if ever so little; he, so strong, +so superior even in his errors, realized at last that his very +individuality was snatched from within himself by the hand of a woman. +Where was the assurance and pride of his cleverness; the belief in +success, the anger of failure, the wish to retrieve his fortune, the +certitude of his ability to accomplish it yet? Gone. All gone. All that +had been a man within him was gone, and there remained only the trouble +of his heart--that heart which had become a contemptible thing; which +could be fluttered by a look or a smile, tormented by a word, soothed by +a promise. + +When the longed-for day came at last, when she sank on the grass by his +side and with a quick gesture took his hand in hers, he sat up suddenly +with the movement and look of a man awakened by the crash of his own +falling house. All his blood, all his sensation, all his life seemed to +rush into that hand leaving him without strength, in a cold shiver, in +the sudden clamminess and collapse as of a deadly gun-shot wound. +He flung her hand away brutally, like something burning, and sat +motionless, his head fallen forward, staring on the ground and catching +his breath in painful gasps. His impulse of fear and apparent horror +did not dismay her in the least. Her face was grave and her eyes looked +seriously at him. Her fingers touched the hair of his temple, ran in +a light caress down his cheek, twisted gently the end of his long +moustache: and while he sat in the tremor of that contact she ran off +with startling fleetness and disappeared in a peal of clear laughter, +in the stir of grass, in the nod of young twigs growing over the path; +leaving behind only a vanishing trail of motion and sound. + +He scrambled to his feet slowly and painfully, like a man with a burden +on his shoulders, and walked towards the riverside. He hugged to his +breast the recollection of his fear and of his delight, but told +himself seriously over and over again that this must be the end of that +adventure. After shoving off his canoe into the stream he lifted his +eyes to the bank and gazed at it long and steadily, as if taking his +last look at a place of charming memories. He marched up to Almayer's +house with the concentrated expression and the determined step of a man +who had just taken a momentous resolution. His face was set and rigid, +his gestures and movements were guarded and slow. He was keeping a tight +hand on himself. A very tight hand. He had a vivid illusion--as vivid +as reality almost--of being in charge of a slippery prisoner. He +sat opposite Almayer during that dinner--which was their last meal +together--with a perfectly calm face and within him a growing terror of +escape from his own self. + +Now and then he would grasp the edge of the table and set his teeth hard +in a sudden wave of acute despair, like one who, falling down a smooth +and rapid declivity that ends in a precipice, digs his finger nails into +the yielding surface and feels himself slipping helplessly to inevitable +destruction. + +Then, abruptly, came a relaxation of his muscles, the giving way of his +will. Something seemed to snap in his head, and that wish, that idea +kept back during all those hours, darted into his brain with the heat +and noise of a conflagration. He must see her! See her at once! Go now! +To-night! He had the raging regret of the lost hour, of every passing +moment. There was no thought of resistance now. Yet with the instinctive +fear of the irrevocable, with the innate falseness of the human heart, +he wanted to keep open the way of retreat. He had never absented himself +during the night. What did Almayer know? What would Almayer think? +Better ask him for the gun. A moonlight night. . . . Look for deer. . . . +A colourable pretext. He would lie to Almayer. What did it matter! He +lied to himself every minute of his life. And for what? For a woman. And +such. . . . + +Almayer's answer showed him that deception was useless. Everything +gets to be known, even in this place. Well, he did not care. Cared for +nothing but for the lost seconds. What if he should suddenly die. Die +before he saw her. Before he could . . . + +As, with the sound of Almayer's laughter in his ears, he urged his canoe +in a slanting course across the rapid current, he tried to tell himself +that he could return at any moment. He would just go and look at the +place where they used to meet, at the tree under which he lay when she +took his hand, at the spot where she sat by his side. Just go there and +then return--nothing more; but when his little skiff touched the bank +he leaped out, forgetting the painter, and the canoe hung for a moment +amongst the bushes and then swung out of sight before he had time to +dash into the water and secure it. He was thunderstruck at first. Now he +could not go back unless he called up the Rajah's people to get a boat +and rowers--and the way to Patalolo's campong led past Aissa's house! + +He went up the path with the eager eyes and reluctant steps of a man +pursuing a phantom, and when he found himself at a place where a narrow +track branched off to the left towards Omar's clearing he stood still, +with a look of strained attention on his face as if listening to a +far-off voice--the voice of his fate. It was a sound inarticulate but +full of meaning; and following it there came a rending and tearing +within his breast. He twisted his fingers together, and the joints of +his hands and arms cracked. On his forehead the perspiration stood +out in small pearly drops. He looked round wildly. Above the shapeless +darkness of the forest undergrowth rose the treetops with their high +boughs and leaves standing out black on the pale sky--like fragments +of night floating on moonbeams. Under his feet warm steam rose from the +heated earth. Round him there was a great silence. + +He was looking round for help. This silence, this immobility of his +surroundings seemed to him a cold rebuke, a stern refusal, a cruel +unconcern. There was no safety outside of himself--and in himself there +was no refuge; there was only the image of that woman. He had a sudden +moment of lucidity--of that cruel lucidity that comes once in life to +the most benighted. He seemed to see what went on within him, and was +horrified at the strange sight. He, a white man whose worst fault till +then had been a little want of judgment and too much confidence in the +rectitude of his kind! That woman was a complete savage, and . . . He +tried to tell himself that the thing was of no consequence. It was a +vain effort. The novelty of the sensations he had never experienced +before in the slightest degree, yet had despised on hearsay from +his safe position of a civilized man, destroyed his courage. He was +disappointed with himself. He seemed to be surrendering to a wild +creature the unstained purity of his life, of his race, of his +civilization. He had a notion of being lost amongst shapeless things +that were dangerous and ghastly. He struggled with the sense of certain +defeat--lost his footing--fell back into the darkness. With a faint cry +and an upward throw of his arms he gave up as a tired swimmer gives up: +because the swamped craft is gone from under his feet; because the night +is dark and the shore is far--because death is better than strife. + + + + +PART II + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +The light and heat fell upon the settlement, the clearings, and the +river as if flung down by an angry hand. The land lay silent, still, +and brilliant under the avalanche of burning rays that had destroyed all +sound and all motion, had buried all shadows, had choked every breath. +No living thing dared to affront the serenity of this cloudless sky, +dared to revolt against the oppression of this glorious and cruel +sunshine. Strength and resolution, body and mind alike were helpless, +and tried to hide before the rush of the fire from heaven. Only the +frail butterflies, the fearless children of the sun, the capricious +tyrants of the flowers, fluttered audaciously in the open, and their +minute shadows hovered in swarms over the drooping blossoms, ran lightly +on the withering grass, or glided on the dry and cracked earth. No voice +was heard in this hot noontide but the faint murmur of the river that +hurried on in swirls and eddies, its sparkling wavelets chasing each +other in their joyous course to the sheltering depths, to the cool +refuge of the sea. + +Almayer had dismissed his workmen for the midday rest, and, his little +daughter on his shoulder, ran quickly across the courtyard, making for +the shade of the verandah of his house. He laid the sleepy child on the +seat of the big rocking-chair, on a pillow which he took out of his +own hammock, and stood for a while looking down at her with tender and +pensive eyes. The child, tired and hot, moved uneasily, sighed, and +looked up at him with the veiled look of sleepy fatigue. He picked up +from the floor a broken palm-leaf fan, and began fanning gently the +flushed little face. Her eyelids fluttered and Almayer smiled. A +responsive smile brightened for a second her heavy eyes, broke with a +dimple the soft outline of her cheek; then the eyelids dropped suddenly, +she drew a long breath through the parted lips--and was in a deep sleep +before the fleeting smile could vanish from her face. + +Almayer moved lightly off, took one of the wooden armchairs, and placing +it close to the balustrade of the verandah sat down with a sigh of +relief. He spread his elbows on the top rail and resting his chin on his +clasped hands looked absently at the river, at the dance of sunlight +on the flowing water. Gradually the forest of the further bank became +smaller, as if sinking below the level of the river. The outlines +wavered, grew thin, dissolved in the air. Before his eyes there was +now only a space of undulating blue--one big, empty sky growing dark at +times. . . . Where was the sunshine? . . . He felt soothed and happy, as +if some gentle and invisible hand had removed from his soul the burden +of his body. In another second he seemed to float out into a cool +brightness where there was no such thing as memory or pain. Delicious. +His eyes closed--opened--closed again. + +"Almayer!" + +With a sudden jerk of his whole body he sat up, grasping the front rail +with both his hands, and blinked stupidly. + +"What? What's that?" he muttered, looking round vaguely. + +"Here! Down here, Almayer." + +Half rising in his chair, Almayer looked over the rail at the foot of +the verandah, and fell back with a low whistle of astonishment. + +"A ghost, by heavens!" he exclaimed softly to himself. + +"Will you listen to me?" went on the husky voice from the courtyard. +"May I come up, Almayer?" + +Almayer stood up and leaned over the rail. "Don't you dare," he said, +in a voice subdued but distinct. "Don't you dare! The child sleeps here. +And I don't want to hear you--or speak to you either." + +"You must listen to me! It's something important." + +"Not to me, surely." + +"Yes! To you. Very important." + +"You were always a humbug," said Almayer, after a short silence, in an +indulgent tone. "Always! I remember the old days. Some fellows used to +say there was no one like you for smartness--but you never took me in. +Not quite. I never quite believed in you, Mr. Willems." + +"I admit your superior intelligence," retorted Willems, with scornful +impatience, from below. "Listening to me would be a further proof of it. +You will be sorry if you don't." + +"Oh, you funny fellow!" said Almayer, banteringly. "Well, come up. Don't +make a noise, but come up. You'll catch a sunstroke down there and die +on my doorstep perhaps. I don't want any tragedy here. Come on!" + +Before he finished speaking Willems' head appeared above the level of +the floor, then his shoulders rose gradually and he stood at last before +Almayer--a masquerading spectre of the once so very confidential clerk +of the richest merchant in the islands. His jacket was soiled and torn; +below the waist he was clothed in a worn-out and faded sarong. He flung +off his hat, uncovering his long, tangled hair that stuck in wisps on +his perspiring forehead and straggled over his eyes, which glittered +deep down in the sockets like the last sparks amongst the black embers +of a burnt-out fire. An unclean beard grew out of the caverns of his +sunburnt cheeks. The hand he put out towards Almayer was very unsteady. +The once firm mouth had the tell-tale droop of mental suffering and +physical exhaustion. He was barefooted. Almayer surveyed him with +leisurely composure. + +"Well!" he said at last, without taking the extended hand which dropped +slowly along Willems' body. + +"I am come," began Willems. + +"So I see," interrupted Almayer. "You might have spared me this treat +without making me unhappy. You have been away five weeks, if I am not +mistaken. I got on very well without you--and now you are here you are +not pretty to look at." + +"Let me speak, will you!" exclaimed Willems. + +"Don't shout like this. Do you think yourself in the forest with your +. . . your friends? This is a civilized man's house. A white man's. +Understand?" + +"I am come," began Willems again; "I am come for your good and mine." + +"You look as if you had come for a good feed," chimed in the +irrepressible Almayer, while Willems waved his hand in a discouraged +gesture. "Don't they give you enough to eat," went on Almayer, in a tone +of easy banter, "those--what am I to call them--those new relations of +yours? That old blind scoundrel must be delighted with your company. You +know, he was the greatest thief and murderer of those seas. Say! do +you exchange confidences? Tell me, Willems, did you kill somebody in +Macassar or did you only steal something?" + +"It is not true!" exclaimed Willems, hotly. "I only borrowed. . . . They +all lied! I . . ." + +"Sh-sh!" hissed Almayer, warningly, with a look at the sleeping child. +"So you did steal," he went on, with repressed exultation. "I thought +there was something of the kind. And now, here, you steal again." + +For the first time Willems raised his eyes to Almayer's face. + +"Oh, I don't mean from me. I haven't missed anything," said Almayer, +with mocking haste. "But that girl. Hey! You stole her. You did not pay +the old fellow. She is no good to him now, is she?" + +"Stop that. Almayer!" + +Something in Willems' tone caused Almayer to pause. He looked narrowly +at the man before him, and could not help being shocked at his +appearance. + +"Almayer," went on Willems, "listen to me. If you are a human being you +will. I suffer horribly--and for your sake." + +Almayer lifted his eyebrows. "Indeed! How? But you are raving," he +added, negligently. + +"Ah! You don't know," whispered Willems. "She is gone. Gone," he +repeated, with tears in his voice, "gone two days ago." + +"No!" exclaimed the surprised Almayer. "Gone! I haven't heard that +news yet." He burst into a subdued laugh. "How funny! Had enough of you +already? You know it's not flattering for you, my superior countryman." + +Willems--as if not hearing him--leaned against one of the columns of the +roof and looked over the river. "At first," he whispered, dreamily, "my +life was like a vision of heaven--or hell; I didn't know which. Since +she went I know what perdition means; what darkness is. I know what it +is to be torn to pieces alive. That's how I feel." + +"You may come and live with me again," said Almayer, coldly. "After all, +Lingard--whom I call my father and respect as such--left you under my +care. You pleased yourself by going away. Very good. Now you want +to come back. Be it so. I am no friend of yours. I act for Captain +Lingard." + +"Come back?" repeated Willems, passionately. "Come back to you and +abandon her? Do you think I am mad? Without her! Man! what are you +made of? To think that she moves, lives, breathes out of my sight. I am +jealous of the wind that fans her, of the air she breathes, of the earth +that receives the caress of her foot, of the sun that looks at her now +while I . . . I haven't seen her for two days--two days." + +The intensity of Willems' feeling moved Almayer somewhat, but he +affected to yawn elaborately, "You do bore me," he muttered. "Why don't +you go after her instead of coming here?" + +"Why indeed?" + +"Don't you know where she is? She can't be very far. No native craft has +left this river for the last fortnight." + +"No! not very far--and I will tell you where she is. She is in Lakamba's +campong." And Willems fixed his eyes steadily on Almayer's face. + +"Phew! Patalolo never sent to let me know. Strange," said Almayer, +thoughtfully. "Are you afraid of that lot?" he added, after a short +pause. + +"I--afraid!" + +"Then is it the care of your dignity which prevents you from following +her there, my high-minded friend?" asked Almayer, with mock solicitude. +"How noble of you!" + +There was a short silence; then Willems said, quietly, "You are a fool. +I should like to kick you." + +"No fear," answered Almayer, carelessly; "you are too weak for that. You +look starved." + +"I don't think I have eaten anything for the last two days; perhaps +more--I don't remember. It does not matter. I am full of live embers," +said Willems, gloomily. "Look!" and he bared an arm covered with fresh +scars. "I have been biting myself to forget in that pain the fire that +hurts me there!" He struck his breast violently with his fist, reeled +under his own blow, fell into a chair that stood near and closed his +eyes slowly. + +"Disgusting exhibition," said Almayer, loftily. "What could father ever +see in you? You are as estimable as a heap of garbage." + +"You talk like that! You, who sold your soul for a few guilders," +muttered Willems, wearily, without opening his eyes. + +"Not so few," said Almayer, with instinctive readiness, and stopped +confused for a moment. He recovered himself quickly, however, and went +on: "But you--you have thrown yours away for nothing; flung it under +the feet of a damned savage woman who has made you already the thing you +are, and will kill you very soon, one way or another, with her love or +with her hate. You spoke just now about guilders. You meant Lingard's +money, I suppose. Well, whatever I have sold, and for whatever price, I +never meant you--you of all people--to spoil my bargain. I feel pretty +safe though. Even father, even Captain Lingard, would not touch you now +with a pair of tongs; not with a ten-foot pole. . . ." + +He spoke excitedly, all in one breath, and, ceasing suddenly, glared at +Willems and breathed hard through his nose in sulky resentment. Willems +looked at him steadily for a moment, then got up. + +"Almayer," he said resolutely, "I want to become a trader in this +place." + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + +"Yes. And you shall set me up. I want a house and trade goods--perhaps a +little money. I ask you for it." + +"Anything else you want? Perhaps this coat?" and here Almayer unbuttoned +his jacket--"or my house--or my boots?" + +"After all it's natural," went on Willems, without paying any attention +to Almayer--"it's natural that she should expect the advantages which +. . . and then I could shut up that old wretch and then . . ." + +He paused, his face brightened with the soft light of dreamy enthusiasm, +and he turned his eyes upwards. With his gaunt figure and dilapidated +appearance he looked like some ascetic dweller in a wilderness, finding +the reward of a self-denying life in a vision of dazzling glory. He went +on in an impassioned murmur-- + +"And then I would have her all to myself away from her people--all +to myself--under my own influence--to fashion--to mould--to adore--to +soften--to . . . Oh! Delight! And then--then go away to some distant +place where, far from all she knew, I would be all the world to her! All +the world to her!" + +His face changed suddenly. His eyes wandered for awhile and then became +steady all at once. + +"I would repay every cent, of course," he said, in a business-like tone, +with something of his old assurance, of his old belief in himself, in +it. "Every cent. I need not interfere with your business. I shall cut +out the small native traders. I have ideas--but never mind that now. And +Captain Lingard would approve, I feel sure. After all it's a loan, and I +shall be at hand. Safe thing for you." + +"Ah! Captain Lingard would approve! He would app . . ." Almayer choked. +The notion of Lingard doing something for Willems enraged him. His face +was purple. He spluttered insulting words. Willems looked at him coolly. + +"I assure you, Almayer," he said, gently, "that I have good grounds for +my demand." + +"Your cursed impudence!" + +"Believe me, Almayer, your position here is not so safe as you may +think. An unscrupulous rival here would destroy your trade in a year. +It would be ruin. Now Lingard's long absence gives courage to certain +individuals. You know?--I have heard much lately. They made proposals to +me . . . You are very much alone here. Even Patalolo . . ." + +"Damn Patalolo! I am master in this place." + +"But, Almayer, don't you see . . ." + +"Yes, I see. I see a mysterious ass," interrupted Almayer, violently. +"What is the meaning of your veiled threats? Don't you think I know +something also? They have been intriguing for years--and nothing has +happened. The Arabs have been hanging about outside this river for +years--and I am still the only trader here; the master here. Do you +bring me a declaration of war? Then it's from yourself only. I know all +my other enemies. I ought to knock you on the head. You are not worth +powder and shot though. You ought to be destroyed with a stick--like a +snake." + +Almayer's voice woke up the little girl, who sat up on the pillow with a +sharp cry. He rushed over to the chair, caught up the child in his arms, +walked back blindly, stumbled against Willems' hat which lay on the +floor, and kicked it furiously down the steps. + +"Clear out of this! Clear out!" he shouted. + +Willems made an attempt to speak, but Almayer howled him down. + +"Take yourself off! Don't you see you frighten the child--you scarecrow! +No, no! dear," he went on to his little daughter, soothingly, while +Willems walked down the steps slowly. "No. Don't cry. See! Bad man going +away. Look! He is afraid of your papa. Nasty, bad man. Never come back +again. He shall live in the woods and never come near my little girl. If +he comes papa will kill him--so!" He struck his fist on the rail of the +balustrade to show how he would kill Willems, and, perching the consoled +child on his shoulder held her with one hand, while he pointed toward +the retreating figure of his visitor. + +"Look how he runs away, dearest," he said, coaxingly. "Isn't he funny. +Call 'pig' after him, dearest. Call after him." + +The seriousness of her face vanished into dimples. Under the long +eyelashes, glistening with recent tears, her big eyes sparkled and +danced with fun. She took firm hold of Almayer's hair with one hand, +while she waved the other joyously and called out with all her might, in +a clear note, soft and distinct like the pipe of a bird:-- + +"Pig! Pig! Pig!" + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +A sigh under the flaming blue, a shiver of the sleeping sea, a cool +breath as if a door had been swung upon the frozen spaces of the +universe, and with a stir of leaves, with the nod of boughs, with the +tremble of slender branches the sea breeze struck the coast, rushed up +the river, swept round the broad reaches, and travelled on in a soft +ripple of darkening water, in the whisper of branches, in the rustle of +leaves of the awakened forests. It fanned in Lakamba's campong the dull +red of expiring embers into a pale brilliance; and, under its touch, +the slender, upright spirals of smoke that rose from every glowing heap +swayed, wavered, and eddying down filled the twilight of clustered shade +trees with the aromatic scent of the burning wood. The men who had been +dozing in the shade during the hot hours of the afternoon woke up, and +the silence of the big courtyard was broken by the hesitating murmur +of yet sleepy voices, by coughs and yawns, with now and then a burst of +laughter, a loud hail, a name or a joke sent out in a soft drawl. Small +groups squatted round the little fires, and the monotonous undertone of +talk filled the enclosure; the talk of barbarians, persistent, steady, +repeating itself in the soft syllables, in musical tones of the +never-ending discourses of those men of the forests and the sea, who +can talk most of the day and all the night; who never exhaust a subject, +never seem able to thresh a matter out; to whom that talk is poetry and +painting and music, all art, all history; their only accomplishment, +their only superiority, their only amusement. The talk of camp fires, +which speaks of bravery and cunning, of strange events and of far +countries, of the news of yesterday and the news of to-morrow. The talk +about the dead and the living--about those who fought and those who +loved. + +Lakamba came out on the platform before his own house and sat +down--perspiring, half asleep, and sulky--in a wooden armchair under the +shade of the overhanging eaves. Through the darkness of the doorway +he could hear the soft warbling of his womenkind, busy round the looms +where they were weaving the checkered pattern of his gala sarongs. Right +and left of him on the flexible bamboo floor those of his followers to +whom their distinguished birth, long devotion, or faithful service had +given the privilege of using the chief's house, were sleeping on mats +or just sat up rubbing their eyes: while the more wakeful had mustered +enough energy to draw a chessboard with red clay on a fine mat and were +now meditating silently over their moves. Above the prostrate forms +of the players, who lay face downward supported on elbow, the soles of +their feet waving irresolutely about, in the absorbed meditation of the +game, there towered here and there the straight figure of an attentive +spectator looking down with dispassionate but profound interest. On the +edge of the platform a row of high-heeled leather sandals stood ranged +carefully in a level line, and against the rough wooden rail leaned the +slender shafts of the spears belonging to these gentlemen, the broad +blades of dulled steel looking very black in the reddening light of +approaching sunset. + +A boy of about twelve--the personal attendant of Lakamba--squatted +at his master's feet and held up towards him a silver siri box. Slowly +Lakamba took the box, opened it, and tearing off a piece of green leaf +deposited in it a pinch of lime, a morsel of gambier, a small bit of +areca nut, and wrapped up the whole with a dexterous twist. He paused, +morsel in hand, seemed to miss something, turned his head from side +to side, slowly, like a man with a stiff neck, and ejaculated in an +ill-humoured bass-- + +"Babalatchi!" + +The players glanced up quickly, and looked down again directly. Those +men who were standing stirred uneasily as if prodded by the sound of +the chief's voice. The one nearest to Lakamba repeated the call, after +a while, over the rail into the courtyard. There was a movement +of upturned faces below by the fires, and the cry trailed over the +enclosure in sing-song tones. The thumping of wooden pestles husking +the evening rice stopped for a moment and Babalatchi's name rang +afresh shrilly on women's lips in various keys. A voice far off shouted +something--another, nearer, repeated it; there was a short hubbub which +died out with extreme suddenness. The first crier turned to Lakamba, +saying indolently-- + +"He is with the blind Omar." + +Lakamba's lips moved inaudibly. The man who had just spoken was again +deeply absorbed in the game going on at his feet; and the chief--as if +he had forgotten all about it already--sat with a stolid face amongst +his silent followers, leaning back squarely in his chair, his hands on +the arms of his seat, his knees apart, his big blood-shot eyes blinking +solemnly, as if dazzled by the noble vacuity of his thoughts. + +Babalatchi had gone to see old Omar late in the afternoon. The delicate +manipulation of the ancient pirate's susceptibilities, the skilful +management of Aissa's violent impulses engrossed him to the exclusion +of every other business--interfered with his regular attendance upon his +chief and protector--even disturbed his sleep for the last three nights. +That day when he left his own bamboo hut--which stood amongst others in +Lakamba's campong--his heart was heavy with anxiety and with doubt as +to the success of his intrigue. He walked slowly, with his usual air of +detachment from his surroundings, as if unaware that many sleepy eyes +watched from all parts of the courtyard his progress towards a small +gate at its upper end. That gate gave access to a separate enclosure +in which a rather large house, built of planks, had been prepared by +Lakamba's orders for the reception of Omar and Aissa. It was a superior +kind of habitation which Lakamba intended for the dwelling of his chief +adviser--whose abilities were worth that honour, he thought. But after +the consultation in the deserted clearing--when Babalatchi had disclosed +his plan--they both had agreed that the new house should be used at +first to shelter Omar and Aissa after they had been persuaded to leave +the Rajah's place, or had been kidnapped from there--as the case might +be. Babalatchi did not mind in the least the putting off of his own +occupation of the house of honour, because it had many advantages for +the quiet working out of his plans. It had a certain seclusion, having +an enclosure of its own, and that enclosure communicated also with +Lakamba's private courtyard at the back of his residence--a place set +apart for the female household of the chief. The only communication with +the river was through the great front courtyard always full of armed men +and watchful eyes. Behind the whole group of buildings there stretched +the level ground of rice-clearings, which in their turn were closed in +by the wall of untouched forests with undergrowth so thick and tangled +that nothing but a bullet--and that fired at pretty close range--could +penetrate any distance there. + +Babalatchi slipped quietly through the little gate and, closing it, tied +up carefully the rattan fastenings. Before the house there was a square +space of ground, beaten hard into the level smoothness of asphalte. A +big buttressed tree, a giant left there on purpose during the process +of clearing the land, roofed in the clear space with a high canopy of +gnarled boughs and thick, sombre leaves. To the right--and some small +distance away from the large house--a little hut of reeds, covered with +mats, had been put up for the special convenience of Omar, who, being +blind and infirm, had some difficulty in ascending the steep plankway +that led to the more substantial dwelling, which was built on low posts +and had an uncovered verandah. Close by the trunk of the tree, and +facing the doorway of the hut, the household fire glowed in a small +handful of embers in the midst of a large circle of white ashes. An +old woman--some humble relation of one of Lakamba's wives, who had been +ordered to attend on Aissa--was squatting over the fire and lifted up +her bleared eyes to gaze at Babalatchi in an uninterested manner, as he +advanced rapidly across the courtyard. + +Babalatchi took in the courtyard with a keen glance of his solitary eye, +and without looking down at the old woman muttered a question. Silently, +the woman stretched a tremulous and emaciated arm towards the hut. +Babalatchi made a few steps towards the doorway, but stopped outside in +the sunlight. + +"O! Tuan Omar, Omar besar! It is I--Babalatchi!" + +Within the hut there was a feeble groan, a fit of coughing and an +indistinct murmur in the broken tones of a vague plaint. Encouraged +evidently by those signs of dismal life within, Babalatchi entered the +hut, and after some time came out leading with rigid carefulness the +blind Omar, who followed with both his hands on his guide's shoulders. +There was a rude seat under the tree, and there Babalatchi led his old +chief, who sat down with a sigh of relief and leaned wearily against the +rugged trunk. The rays of the setting sun, darting under the spreading +branches, rested on the white-robed figure sitting with head thrown back +in stiff dignity, on the thin hands moving uneasily, and on the stolid +face with its eyelids dropped over the destroyed eyeballs; a face set +into the immobility of a plaster cast yellowed by age. + +"Is the sun near its setting?" asked Omar, in a dull voice. + +"Very near," answered Babalatchi. + +"Where am I? Why have I been taken away from the place which I +knew--where I, blind, could move without fear? It is like black night to +those who see. And the sun is near its setting--and I have not heard the +sound of her footsteps since the morning! Twice a strange hand has given +me my food to-day. Why? Why? Where is she?" + +"She is near," said Babalatchi. + +"And he?" went on Omar, with sudden eagerness, and a drop in his voice. +"Where is he? Not here. Not here!" he repeated, turning his head from +side to side as if in deliberate attempt to see. + +"No! He is not here now," said Babalatchi, soothingly. Then, after a +pause, he added very low, "But he shall soon return." + +"Return! O crafty one! Will he return? I have cursed him three times," +exclaimed Omar, with weak violence. + +"He is--no doubt--accursed," assented Babalatchi, in a conciliating +manner--"and yet he will be here before very long--I know!" + +"You are crafty and faithless. I have made you great. You were dirt +under my feet--less than dirt," said Omar, with tremulous energy. + +"I have fought by your side many times," said Babalatchi, calmly. + +"Why did he come?" went on Omar. "Did you send him? Why did he come to +defile the air I breathe--to mock at my fate--to poison her mind and +steal her body? She has grown hard of heart to me. Hard and merciless +and stealthy like rocks that tear a ship's life out under the smooth +sea." He drew a long breath, struggled with his anger, then broke +down suddenly. "I have been hungry," he continued, in a whimpering +tone--"often I have been very hungry--and cold--and neglected--and +nobody near me. She has often forgotten me--and my sons are dead, and +that man is an infidel and a dog. Why did he come? Did you show him the +way?" + +"He found the way himself, O Leader of the brave," said Babalatchi, +sadly. "I only saw a way for their destruction and our own greatness. +And if I saw aright, then you shall never suffer from hunger any more. +There shall be peace for us, and glory and riches." + +"And I shall die to-morrow," murmured Omar, bitterly. + +"Who knows? Those things have been written since the beginning of the +world," whispered Babalatchi, thoughtfully. + +"Do not let him come back," exclaimed Omar. + +"Neither can he escape his fate," went on Babalatchi. "He shall come +back, and the power of men we always hated, you and I, shall crumble +into dust in our hand." Then he added with enthusiasm, "They shall fight +amongst themselves and perish both." + +"And you shall see all this, while, I . . ." + +"True!" murmured Babalatchi, regretfully. "To you life is darkness." + +"No! Flame!" exclaimed the old Arab, half rising, then falling back in +his seat. "The flame of that last day! I see it yet--the last thing I +saw! And I hear the noise of the rent earth--when they all died. And +I live to be the plaything of a crafty one," he added, with +inconsequential peevishness. + +"You are my master still," said Babalatchi, humbly. "You are very +wise--and in your wisdom you shall speak to Syed Abdulla when he comes +here--you shall speak to him as I advised, I, your servant, the man who +fought at your right hand for many years. I have heard by a messenger +that the Syed Abdulla is coming to-night, perhaps late; for those things +must be done secretly, lest the white man, the trader up the river, +should know of them. But he will be here. There has been a surat +delivered to Lakamba. In it, Syed Abdulla says he will leave his ship, +which is anchored outside the river, at the hour of noon to-day. He will +be here before daylight if Allah wills." + +He spoke with his eye fixed on the ground, and did not become aware of +Aissa's presence till he lifted his head when he ceased speaking. She +had approached so quietly that even Omar did not hear her footsteps, and +she stood now looking at them with troubled eyes and parted lips, as +if she was going to speak; but at Babalatchi's entreating gesture she +remained silent. Omar sat absorbed in thought. + +"Ay wa! Even so!" he said at last, in a weak voice. "I am to speak +your wisdom, O Babalatchi! Tell him to trust the white man! I do not +understand. I am old and blind and weak. I do not understand. I am very +cold," he continued, in a lower tone, moving his shoulders uneasily. He +ceased, then went on rambling in a faint whisper. "They are the sons of +witches, and their father is Satan the stoned. Sons of witches. Sons +of witches." After a short silence he asked suddenly, in a firmer +voice--"How many white men are there here, O crafty one?" + +"There are two here. Two white men to fight one another," answered +Babalatchi, with alacrity. + +"And how many will be left then? How many? Tell me, you who are wise." + +"The downfall of an enemy is the consolation of the unfortunate," said +Babalatchi, sententiously. "They are on every sea; only the wisdom of +the Most High knows their number--but you shall know that some of them +suffer." + +"Tell me, Babalatchi, will they die? Will they both die?" asked Omar, in +sudden agitation. + +Aissa made a movement. Babalatchi held up a warning hand. + +"They shall, surely, die," he said steadily, looking at the girl with +unflinching eye. + +"Ay wa! But die soon! So that I can pass my hand over their faces when +Allah has made them stiff." + +"If such is their fate and yours," answered Babalatchi, without +hesitation. "God is great!" + +A violent fit of coughing doubled Omar up, and he rocked himself to and +fro, wheezing and moaning in turns, while Babalatchi and the girl looked +at him in silence. Then he leaned back against the tree, exhausted. + +"I am alone, I am alone," he wailed feebly, groping vaguely about with +his trembling hands. "Is there anybody near me? Is there anybody? I am +afraid of this strange place." + +"I am by your side, O Leader of the brave," said Babalatchi, touching +his shoulder lightly. "Always by your side as in the days when we both +were young: as in the time when we both went with arms in our hands." + +"Has there been such a time, Babalatchi?" said Omar, wildly; "I have +forgotten. And now when I die there will be no man, no fearless man to +speak of his father's bravery. There was a woman! A woman! And she has +forsaken me for an infidel dog. The hand of the Compassionate is heavy +on my head! Oh, my calamity! Oh, my shame!" + +He calmed down after a while, and asked quietly-- + +"Is the sun set, Babalatchi?" + +"It is now as low as the highest tree I can see from here," answered +Babalatchi. + +"It is the time of prayer," said Omar, attempting to get up. + +Dutifully Babalatchi helped his old chief to rise, and they walked +slowly towards the hut. Omar waited outside, while Babalatchi went in +and came out directly, dragging after him the old Arab's praying +carpet. Out of a brass vessel he poured the water of ablution on +Omar's outstretched hands, and eased him carefully down into a kneeling +posture, for the venerable robber was far too infirm to be able to +stand. Then as Omar droned out the first words and made his first bow +towards the Holy City, Babalatchi stepped noiselessly towards Aissa, who +did not move all the time. + +Aissa looked steadily at the one-eyed sage, who was approaching her +slowly and with a great show of deference. For a moment they stood +facing each other in silence. Babalatchi appeared embarrassed. With a +sudden and quick gesture she caught hold of his arm, and with the other +hand pointed towards the sinking red disc that glowed, rayless, through +the floating mists of the evening. + +"The third sunset! The last! And he is not here," she whispered; "what +have you done, man without faith? What have you done?" + +"Indeed I have kept my word," murmured Babalatchi, earnestly. "This +morning Bulangi went with a canoe to look for him. He is a strange +man, but our friend, and shall keep close to him and watch him without +ostentation. And at the third hour of the day I have sent another canoe +with four rowers. Indeed, the man you long for, O daughter of Omar! may +come when he likes." + +"But he is not here! I waited for him yesterday. To-day! To-morrow I +shall go." + +"Not alive!" muttered Babalatchi to himself. "And do you doubt your +power," he went on in a louder tone--"you that to him are more beautiful +than an houri of the seventh Heaven? He is your slave." + +"A slave does run away sometimes," she said, gloomily, "and then the +master must go and seek him out." + +"And do you want to live and die a beggar?" asked Babalatchi, +impatiently. + +"I care not," she exclaimed, wringing her hands; and the black pupils of +her wide-open eyes darted wildly here and there like petrels before the +storm. + +"Sh! Sh!" hissed Babalatchi, with a glance towards Omar. "Do you think, +O girl! that he himself would live like a beggar, even with you?" + +"He is great," she said, ardently. "He despises you all! He despises you +all! He is indeed a man!" + +"You know that best," muttered Babalatchi, with a fugitive smile--"but +remember, woman with the strong heart, that to hold him now you must be +to him like the great sea to thirsty men--a never-ceasing torment, and a +madness." + +He ceased and they stood in silence, both looking on the ground, and +for a time nothing was heard above the crackling of the fire but the +intoning of Omar glorifying the God--his God, and the Faith--his faith. +Then Babalatchi cocked his head on one side and appeared to listen +intently to the hum of voices in the big courtyard. The dull noise +swelled into distinct shouts, then into a great tumult of voices, dying +away, recommencing, growing louder, to cease again abruptly; and in +those short pauses the shrill vociferations of women rushed up, as if +released, towards the quiet heaven. Aissa and Babalatchi started, but +the latter gripped in his turn the girl's arm and restrained her with a +strong grasp. + +"Wait," he whispered. + +The little door in the heavy stockade which separated Lakamba's private +ground from Omar's enclosure swung back quickly, and the noble exile +appeared with disturbed mien and a naked short sword in his hand. His +turban was half unrolled, and the end trailed on the ground behind him. +His jacket was open. He breathed thickly for a moment before he spoke. + +"He came in Bulangi's boat," he said, "and walked quietly till he was +in my presence, when the senseless fury of white men caused him to rush +upon me. I have been in great danger," went on the ambitious nobleman +in an aggrieved tone. "Do you hear that, Babalatchi? That eater of swine +aimed a blow at my face with his unclean fist. He tried to rush amongst +my household. Six men are holding him now." + +A fresh outburst of yells stopped Lakamba's discourse. Angry voices +shouted: "Hold him. Beat him down. Strike at his head." + +Then the clamour ceased with sudden completeness, as if strangled by +a mighty hand, and after a second of surprising silence the voice of +Willems was heard alone, howling maledictions in Malay, in Dutch, and in +English. + +"Listen," said Lakamba, speaking with unsteady lips, "he blasphemes his +God. His speech is like the raving of a mad dog. Can we hold him for +ever? He must be killed!" + +"Fool!" muttered Babalatchi, looking up at Aissa, who stood with set +teeth, with gleaming eyes and distended nostrils, yet obedient to the +touch of his restraining hand. "It is the third day, and I have kept +my promise," he said to her, speaking very low. "Remember," he added +warningly--"like the sea to the thirsty! And now," he said aloud, +releasing her and stepping back, "go, fearless daughter, go!" + +Like an arrow, rapid and silent she flew down the enclosure, and +disappeared through the gate of the courtyard. Lakamba and Babalatchi +looked after her. They heard the renewed tumult, the girl's clear voice +calling out, "Let him go!" Then after a pause in the din no longer +than half the human breath the name of Aissa rang in a shout loud, +discordant, and piercing, which sent through them an involuntary +shudder. Old Omar collapsed on his carpet and moaned feebly; Lakamba +stared with gloomy contempt in the direction of the inhuman sound; but +Babalatchi, forcing a smile, pushed his distinguished protector through +the narrow gate in the stockade, followed him, and closed it quickly. + +The old woman, who had been most of the time kneeling by the fire, now +rose, glanced round fearfully and crouched hiding behind the tree. The +gate of the great courtyard flew open with a great clatter before a +frantic kick, and Willems darted in carrying Aissa in his arms. He +rushed up the enclosure like a tornado, pressing the girl to his breast, +her arms round his neck, her head hanging back over his arm, her eyes +closed and her long hair nearly touching the ground. They appeared for +a second in the glare of the fire, then, with immense strides, he dashed +up the planks and disappeared with his burden in the doorway of the big +house. + +Inside and outside the enclosure there was silence. Omar lay supporting +himself on his elbow, his terrified face with its closed eyes giving him +the appearance of a man tormented by a nightmare. + +"What is it? Help! Help me to rise!" he called out faintly. + +The old hag, still crouching in the shadow, stared with bleared eyes +at the doorway of the big house, and took no notice of his call. He +listened for a while, then his arm gave way, and, with a deep sigh of +discouragement, he let himself fall on the carpet. + +The boughs of the tree nodded and trembled in the unsteady currents of +the light wind. A leaf fluttered down slowly from some high branch and +rested on the ground, immobile, as if resting for ever, in the glow of +the fire; but soon it stirred, then soared suddenly, and flew, spinning +and turning before the breath of the perfumed breeze, driven helplessly +into the dark night that had closed over the land. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +For upwards of forty years Abdulla had walked in the way of his Lord. +Son of the rich Syed Selim bin Sali, the great Mohammedan trader of the +Straits, he went forth at the age of seventeen on his first commercial +expedition, as his father's representative on board a pilgrim ship +chartered by the wealthy Arab to convey a crowd of pious Malays to the +Holy Shrine. That was in the days when steam was not in those seas--or, +at least, not so much as now. The voyage was long, and the young man's +eyes were opened to the wonders of many lands. Allah had made it his +fate to become a pilgrim very early in life. This was a great favour +of Heaven, and it could not have been bestowed upon a man who prized it +more, or who made himself more worthy of it by the unswerving piety of +his heart and by the religious solemnity of his demeanour. Later on it +became clear that the book of his destiny contained the programme of a +wandering life. He visited Bombay and Calcutta, looked in at the Persian +Gulf, beheld in due course the high and barren coasts of the Gulf of +Suez, and this was the limit of his wanderings westward. He was then +twenty-seven, and the writing on his forehead decreed that the time had +come for him to return to the Straits and take from his dying father's +hands the many threads of a business that was spread over all the +Archipelago: from Sumatra to New Guinea, from Batavia to Palawan. + +Very soon his ability, his will--strong to obstinacy--his wisdom beyond +his years, caused him to be recognized as the head of a family whose +members and connections were found in every part of those seas. An uncle +here--a brother there; a father-in-law in Batavia, another in Palembang; +husbands of numerous sisters; cousins innumerable scattered north, +south, east, and west--in every place where there was trade: the great +family lay like a network over the islands. They lent money to +princes, influenced the council-rooms, faced--if need be--with peaceful +intrepidity the white rulers who held the land and the sea under the +edge of sharp swords; and they all paid great deference to Abdulla, +listened to his advice, entered into his plans--because he was wise, +pious, and fortunate. + +He bore himself with the humility becoming a Believer, who never +forgets, even for one moment of his waking life, that he is the servant +of the Most High. He was largely charitable because the charitable man +is the friend of Allah, and when he walked out of his house--built of +stone, just outside the town of Penang--on his way to his godowns in the +port, he had often to snatch his hand away sharply from under the lips +of men of his race and creed; and often he had to murmur deprecating +words, or even to rebuke with severity those who attempted to touch his +knees with their finger-tips in gratitude or supplication. He was very +handsome, and carried his small head high with meek gravity. His lofty +brow, straight nose, narrow, dark face with its chiselled delicacy of +feature, gave him an aristocratic appearance which proclaimed his pure +descent. His beard was trimmed close and to a rounded point. His large +brown eyes looked out steadily with a sweetness that was belied by the +expression of his thin-lipped mouth. His aspect was serene. He had a +belief in his own prosperity which nothing could shake. + +Restless, like all his people, he very seldom dwelt for many days +together in his splendid house in Penang. Owner of ships, he was often +on board one or another of them, traversing in all directions the field +of his operations. In every port he had a household--his own or that +of a relation--to hail his advent with demonstrative joy. In every port +there were rich and influential men eager to see him, there was +business to talk over, there were important letters to read: an immense +correspondence, enclosed in silk envelopes--a correspondence which had +nothing to do with the infidels of colonial post-offices, but came into +his hands by devious, yet safe, ways. It was left for him by taciturn +nakhodas of native trading craft, or was delivered with profound salaams +by travel-stained and weary men who would withdraw from his presence +calling upon Allah to bless the generous giver of splendid rewards. And +the news was always good, and all his attempts always succeeded, and +in his ears there rang always a chorus of admiration, of gratitude, of +humble entreaties. + +A fortunate man. And his felicity was so complete that the good genii, +who ordered the stars at his birth, had not neglected--by a refinement +of benevolence strange in such primitive beings--to provide him with a +desire difficult to attain, and with an enemy hard to overcome. The envy +of Lingard's political and commercial successes, and the wish to get the +best of him in every way, became Abdulla's mania, the paramount interest +of his life, the salt of his existence. + +For the last few months he had been receiving mysterious messages from +Sambir urging him to decisive action. He had found the river a couple of +years ago, and had been anchored more than once off that estuary where +the, till then, rapid Pantai, spreading slowly over the lowlands, seems +to hesitate, before it flows gently through twenty outlets; over a maze +of mudflats, sandbanks and reefs, into the expectant sea. He had never +attempted the entrance, however, because men of his race, although brave +and adventurous travellers, lack the true seamanlike instincts, and he +was afraid of getting wrecked. He could not bear the idea of the Rajah +Laut being able to boast that Abdulla bin Selim, like other and lesser +men, had also come to grief when trying to wrest his secret from him. +Meantime he returned encouraging answers to his unknown friends in +Sambir, and waited for his opportunity in the calm certitude of ultimate +triumph. + +Such was the man whom Lakamba and Babalatchi expected to see for the +first time on the night of Willems' return to Aissa. Babalatchi, who had +been tormented for three days by the fear of having over-reached +himself in his little plot, now, feeling sure of his white man, felt +lighthearted and happy as he superintended the preparations in the +courtyard for Abdulla's reception. Half-way between Lakamba's house and +the river a pile of dry wood was made ready for the torch that would +set fire to it at the moment of Abdulla's landing. Between this and +the house again there was, ranged in a semicircle, a set of low +bamboo frames, and on those were piled all the carpets and cushions of +Lakamba's household. It had been decided that the reception was to take +place in the open air, and that it should be made impressive by the +great number of Lakamba's retainers, who, clad in clean white, with +their red sarongs gathered round their waists, chopper at side and lance +in hand, were moving about the compound or, gathering into small knots, +discussed eagerly the coming ceremony. + +Two little fires burned brightly on the water's edge on each side of +the landing place. A small heap of damar-gum torches lay by each, and +between them Babalatchi strolled backwards and forwards, stopping often +with his face to the river and his head on one side, listening to the +sounds that came from the darkness over the water. There was no moon and +the night was very clear overhead, but, after the afternoon breeze had +expired in fitful puffs, the vapours hung thickening over the glancing +surface of the Pantai and clung to the shore, hiding from view the +middle of the stream. + +A cry in the mist--then another--and, before Babalatchi could answer, +two little canoes dashed up to the landing-place, and two of the +principal citizens of Sambir, Daoud Sahamin and Hamet Bahassoen, who had +been confidentially invited to meet Abdulla, landed quickly and after +greeting Babalatchi walked up the dark courtyard towards the house. The +little stir caused by their arrival soon subsided, and another silent +hour dragged its slow length while Babalatchi tramped up and down +between the fires, his face growing more anxious with every passing +moment. + +At last there was heard a loud hail from down the river. At a call from +Babalatchi men ran down to the riverside and, snatching the torches, +thrust them into the fires, then waved them above their heads till they +burst into a flame. The smoke ascended in thick, wispy streams, and hung +in a ruddy cloud above the glare that lit up the courtyard and flashed +over the water, showing three long canoes manned by many paddlers lying +a little off; the men in them lifting their paddles on high and dipping +them down together, in an easy stroke that kept the small flotilla +motionless in the strong current, exactly abreast of the landing-place. +A man stood up in the largest craft and called out-- + +"Syed Abdulla bin Selim is here!" + +Babalatchi answered aloud in a formal tone-- + +"Allah gladdens our hearts! Come to the land!" + +Abdulla landed first, steadying himself by the help of Babalatchi's +extended hand. In the short moment of his passing from the boat to the +shore they exchanged sharp glances and a few rapid words. + +"Who are you?" + +"Babalatchi. The friend of Omar. The protected of Lakamba." + +"You wrote?" + +"My words were written, O Giver of alms!" + +And then Abdulla walked with composed face between the two lines of +men holding torches, and met Lakamba in front of the big fire that was +crackling itself up into a great blaze. For a moment they stood with +clasped hands invoking peace upon each other's head, then Lakamba, still +holding his honoured guest by the hand, led him round the fire to the +prepared seats. Babalatchi followed close behind his protector. Abdulla +was accompanied by two Arabs. He, like his companions, was dressed in a +white robe of starched muslin, which fell in stiff folds straight from +the neck. It was buttoned from the throat halfway down with a close row +of very small gold buttons; round the tight sleeves there was a narrow +braid of gold lace. On his shaven head he wore a small skull-cap of +plaited grass. He was shod in patent leather slippers over his naked +feet. A rosary of heavy wooden beads hung by a round turn from his right +wrist. He sat down slowly in the place of honour, and, dropping his +slippers, tucked up his legs under him decorously. + +The improvised divan was arranged in a wide semi-circle, of which the +point most distant from the fire--some ten yards--was also the nearest +to Lakamba's dwelling. As soon as the principal personages were seated, +the verandah of the house was filled silently by the muffled-up forms of +Lakamba's female belongings. They crowded close to the rail and looked +down, whispering faintly. Below, the formal exchange of compliments +went on for some time between Lakamba and Abdulla, who sat side by side. +Babalatchi squatted humbly at his protector's feet, with nothing but a +thin mat between himself and the hard ground. + +Then there was a pause. Abdulla glanced round in an expectant manner, +and after a while Babalatchi, who had been sitting very still in a +pensive attitude, seemed to rouse himself with an effort, and began to +speak in gentle and persuasive tones. He described in flowing sentences +the first beginnings of Sambir, the dispute of the present ruler, +Patalolo, with the Sultan of Koti, the consequent troubles ending +with the rising of Bugis settlers under the leadership of Lakamba. At +different points of the narrative he would turn for confirmation to +Sahamin and Bahassoen, who sat listening eagerly and assented together +with a "Betul! Betul! Right! Right!" ejaculated in a fervent undertone. + +Warming up with his subject as the narrative proceeded, Babalatchi went +on to relate the facts connected with Lingard's action at the critical +period of those internal dissensions. He spoke in a restrained voice +still, but with a growing energy of indignation. What was he, that +man of fierce aspect, to keep all the world away from them? Was he a +government? Who made him ruler? He took possession of Patalolo's mind +and made his heart hard; he put severe words into his mouth and caused +his hand to strike right and left. That unbeliever kept the Faithful +panting under the weight of his senseless oppression. They had to trade +with him--accept such goods as he would give--such credit as he would +accord. And he exacted payment every year . . . + +"Very true!" exclaimed Sahamin and Bahassoen together. + +Babalatchi glanced at them approvingly and turned to Abdulla. + +"Listen to those men, O Protector of the oppressed!" he exclaimed. "What +could we do? A man must trade. There was nobody else." + +Sahamin got up, staff in hand, and spoke to Abdulla with ponderous +courtesy, emphasizing his words by the solemn flourishes of his right +arm. + +"It is so. We are weary of paying our debts to that white man here, +who is the son of the Rajah Laut. That white man--may the grave of his +mother be defiled!--is not content to hold us all in his hand with a +cruel grasp. He seeks to cause our very death. He trades with the Dyaks +of the forest, who are no better than monkeys. He buys from them guttah +and rattans--while we starve. Only two days ago I went to him and +said, 'Tuan Almayer'--even so; we must speak politely to that friend of +Satan--'Tuan Almayer, I have such and such goods to sell. Will you buy?' +And he spoke thus--because those white men have no understanding of any +courtesy--he spoke to me as if I was a slave: 'Daoud, you are a lucky +man'--remark, O First amongst the Believers! that by those words he +could have brought misfortune on my head--'you are a lucky man to have +anything in these hard times. Bring your goods quickly, and I shall +receive them in payment of what you owe me from last year.' And he +laughed, and struck me on the shoulder with his open hand. May Jehannum +be his lot!" + +"We will fight him," said young Bahassoen, crisply. "We shall fight if +there is help and a leader. Tuan Abdulla, will you come among us?" + +Abdulla did not answer at once. His lips moved in an inaudible whisper +and the beads passed through his fingers with a dry click. All waited in +respectful silence. "I shall come if my ship can enter this river," said +Abdulla at last, in a solemn tone. + +"It can, Tuan," exclaimed Babalatchi. "There is a white man here +who . . ." + +"I want to see Omar el Badavi and that white man you wrote about," +interrupted Abdulla. + +Babalatchi got on his feet quickly, and there was a general move. + +The women on the verandah hurried indoors, and from the crowd that had +kept discreetly in distant parts of the courtyard a couple of men ran +with armfuls of dry fuel, which they cast upon the fire. One of them, at +a sign from Babalatchi, approached and, after getting his orders, went +towards the little gate and entered Omar's enclosure. While waiting +for his return, Lakamba, Abdulla, and Babalatchi talked together in low +tones. Sahamin sat by himself chewing betel-nut sleepily with a slight +and indolent motion of his heavy jaw. Bahassoen, his hand on the hilt +of his short sword, strutted backwards and forwards in the full light of +the fire, looking very warlike and reckless; the envy and admiration of +Lakamba's retainers, who stood in groups or flitted about noiselessly in +the shadows of the courtyard. + +The messenger who had been sent to Omar came back and stood at a +distance, waiting till somebody noticed him. Babalatchi beckoned him +close. + +"What are his words?" asked Babalatchi. + +"He says that Syed Abdulla is welcome now," answered the man. + +Lakamba was speaking low to Abdulla, who listened to him with deep +interest. + +". . . We could have eighty men if there was need," he was +saying--"eighty men in fourteen canoes. The only thing we want is +gunpowder . . ." + +"Hai! there will be no fighting," broke in Babalatchi. "The fear of your +name will be enough and the terror of your coming." + +"There may be powder too," muttered Abdulla with great nonchalance, "if +only the ship enters the river safely." + +"If the heart is stout the ship will be safe," said Babalatchi. "We will +go now and see Omar el Badavi and the white man I have here." + +Lakamba's dull eyes became animated suddenly. + +"Take care, Tuan Abdulla," he said, "take care. The behaviour of that +unclean white madman is furious in the extreme. He offered to +strike . . ." + +"On my head, you are safe, O Giver of alms!" interrupted Babalatchi. + +Abdulla looked from one to the other, and the faintest flicker of a +passing smile disturbed for a moment his grave composure. He turned to +Babalatchi, and said with decision-- + +"Let us go." + +"This way, O Uplifter of our hearts!" rattled on Babalatchi, with fussy +deference. "Only a very few paces and you shall behold Omar the brave, +and a white man of great strength and cunning. This way." + +He made a sign for Lakamba to remain behind, and with respectful touches +on the elbow steered Abdulla towards the gate at the upper end of the +court-yard. As they walked on slowly, followed by the two Arabs, he kept +on talking in a rapid undertone to the great man, who never looked at +him once, although appearing to listen with flattering attention. When +near the gate Babalatchi moved forward and stopped, facing Abdulla, with +his hand on the fastenings. + +"You shall see them both," he said. "All my words about them are true. +When I saw him enslaved by the one of whom I spoke, I knew he would be +soft in my hand like the mud of the river. At first he answered my +talk with bad words of his own language, after the manner of white +men. Afterwards, when listening to the voice he loved, he hesitated. +He hesitated for many days--too many. I, knowing him well, made Omar +withdraw here with his . . . household. Then this red-faced man raged +for three days like a black panther that is hungry. And this evening, +this very evening, he came. I have him here. He is in the grasp of one +with a merciless heart. I have him here," ended Babalatchi, exultingly +tapping the upright of the gate with his hand. + +"That is good," murmured Abdulla. + +"And he shall guide your ship and lead in the fight--if fight there be," +went on Babalatchi. "If there is any killing--let him be the slayer. You +should give him arms--a short gun that fires many times." + +"Yes, by Allah!" assented Abdulla, with slow thoughtfulness. + +"And you will have to open your hand, O First amongst the generous!" +continued Babalatchi. "You will have to satisfy the rapacity of a +white man, and also of one who is not a man, and therefore greedy of +ornaments." + +"They shall be satisfied," said Abdulla; "but . . ." He hesitated, +looking down on the ground and stroking his beard, while Babalatchi +waited, anxious, with parted lips. After a short time he spoke again +jerkily in an indistinct whisper, so that Babalatchi had to turn his +head to catch the words. "Yes. But Omar is the son of my father's uncle +. . . and all belonging to him are of the Faith . . . while that man is +an unbeliever. It is most unseemly . . . very unseemly. He cannot live +under my shadow. Not that dog. Penitence! I take refuge with my God," he +mumbled rapidly. "How can he live under my eyes with that woman, who is +of the Faith? Scandal! O abomination!" + +He finished with a rush and drew a long breath, then added dubiously-- + +"And when that man has done all we want, what is to be done with him?" + +They stood close together, meditative and silent, their eyes roaming +idly over the courtyard. The big bonfire burned brightly, and a wavering +splash of light lay on the dark earth at their feet, while the lazy +smoke wreathed itself slowly in gleaming coils amongst the black boughs +of the trees. They could see Lakamba, who had returned to his place, +sitting hunched up spiritlessly on the cushions, and Sahamin, who had +got on his feet again and appeared to be talking to him with dignified +animation. Men in twos or threes came out of the shadows into the light, +strolling slowly, and passed again into the shadows, their faces turned +to each other, their arms moving in restrained gestures. Bahassoen, his +head proudly thrown back, his ornaments, embroideries, and sword-hilt +flashing in the light, circled steadily round the fire like a planet +round the sun. A cool whiff of damp air came from the darkness of the +riverside; it made Abdulla and Babalatchi shiver, and woke them up from +their abstraction. + +"Open the gate and go first," said Abdulla; "there is no danger?" + +"On my life, no!" answered Babalatchi, lifting the rattan ring. "He is +all peace and content, like a thirsty man who has drunk water after many +days." + +He swung the gate wide, made a few paces into the gloom of the +enclosure, and retraced his steps suddenly. + +"He may be made useful in many ways," he whispered to Abdulla, who had +stopped short, seeing him come back. + +"O Sin! O Temptation!" sighed out Abdulla, faintly. "Our refuge is with +the Most High. Can I feed this infidel for ever and for ever?" he added, +impatiently. + +"No," breathed out Babalatchi. "No! Not for ever. Only while he serves +your designs, O Dispenser of Allah's gifts! When the time comes--and +your order . . ." + +He sidled close to Abdulla, and brushed with a delicate touch the hand +that hung down listlessly, holding the prayer-beads. + +"I am your slave and your offering," he murmured, in a distinct and +polite tone, into Abdulla's ear. "When your wisdom speaks, there may be +found a little poison that will not lie. Who knows?" + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Babalatchi saw Abdulla pass through the low and narrow entrance into the +darkness of Omar's hut; heard them exchange the usual greetings and +the distinguished visitor's grave voice asking: "There is no +misfortune--please God--but the sight?" and then, becoming aware of +the disapproving looks of the two Arabs who had accompanied Abdulla, +he followed their example and fell back out of earshot. He did it +unwillingly, although he did not ignore that what was going to happen +in there was now absolutely beyond his control. He roamed irresolutely +about for awhile, and at last wandered with careless steps towards the +fire, which had been moved, from under the tree, close to the hut and a +little to windward of its entrance. He squatted on his heels and began +playing pensively with live embers, as was his habit when engrossed in +thought, withdrawing his hand sharply and shaking it above his head when +he burnt his fingers in a fit of deeper abstraction. Sitting there +he could hear the murmur of the talk inside the hut, and he could +distinguish the voices but not the words. Abdulla spoke in deep tones, +and now and then this flowing monotone was interrupted by a querulous +exclamation, a weak moan or a plaintive quaver of the old man. Yes. It +was annoying not to be able to make out what they were saying, thought +Babalatchi, as he sat gazing fixedly at the unsteady glow of the fire. +But it will be right. All will be right. Abdulla inspired him with +confidence. He came up fully to his expectation. From the very first +moment when he set his eye on him he felt sure that this man--whom he +had known by reputation only--was very resolute. Perhaps too resolute. +Perhaps he would want to grasp too much later on. A shadow flitted over +Babalatchi's face. On the eve of the accomplishment of his desires he +felt the bitter taste of that drop of doubt which is mixed with the +sweetness of every success. + +When, hearing footsteps on the verandah of the big house, he lifted his +head, the shadow had passed away and on his face there was an expression +of watchful alertness. Willems was coming down the plankway, into the +courtyard. The light within trickled through the cracks of the badly +joined walls of the house, and in the illuminated doorway appeared +the moving form of Aissa. She also passed into the night outside and +disappeared from view. Babalatchi wondered where she had got to, and for +the moment forgot the approach of Willems. The voice of the white man +speaking roughly above his head made him jump to his feet as if impelled +upwards by a powerful spring. + +"Where's Abdulla?" + +Babalatchi waved his hand towards the hut and stood listening intently. +The voices within had ceased, then recommenced again. He shot an oblique +glance at Willems, whose indistinct form towered above the glow of dying +embers. + +"Make up this fire," said Willems, abruptly. "I want to see your face." + +With obliging alacrity Babalatchi put some dry brushwood on the coals +from a handy pile, keeping all the time a watchful eye on Willems. +When he straightened himself up his hand wandered almost involuntarily +towards his left side to feel the handle of a kriss amongst the folds of +his sarong, but he tried to look unconcerned under the angry stare. + +"You are in good health, please God?" he murmured. + +"Yes!" answered Willems, with an unexpected loudness that caused +Babalatchi to start nervously. "Yes! . . . Health! . . . You . . ." + +He made a long stride and dropped both his hands on the Malay's +shoulders. In the powerful grip Babalatchi swayed to and fro limply, but +his face was as peaceful as when he sat--a little while ago--dreaming by +the fire. With a final vicious jerk Willems let go suddenly, and turning +away on his heel stretched his hands over the fire. Babalatchi stumbled +backwards, recovered himself, and wriggled his shoulders laboriously. + +"Tse! Tse! Tse!" he clicked, deprecatingly. After a short silence he +went on with accentuated admiration: "What a man it is! What a strong +man! A man like that"--he concluded, in a tone of meditative wonder--"a +man like that could upset mountains--mountains!" + +He gazed hopefully for a while at Willems' broad shoulders, and +continued, addressing the inimical back, in a low and persuasive voice-- + +"But why be angry with me? With me who think only of your good? Did I +not give her refuge, in my own house? Yes, Tuan! This is my own house. +I will let you have it without any recompense because she must have a +shelter. Therefore you and she shall live here. Who can know a woman's +mind? And such a woman! If she wanted to go away from that other place, +who am I--to say no! I am Omar's servant. I said: 'Gladden my heart by +taking my house.' Did I say right?" + +"I'll tell you something," said Willems, without changing his position; +"if she takes a fancy to go away from this place it is you who shall +suffer. I will wring your neck." + +"When the heart is full of love there is no room in it for justice," +recommenced Babalatchi, with unmoved and persistent softness. "Why slay +me? You know, Tuan, what she wants. A splendid destiny is her desire--as +of all women. You have been wronged and cast out by your people. She +knows that. But you are brave, you are strong--you are a man; and, +Tuan--I am older than you--you are in her hand. Such is the fate of +strong men. And she is of noble birth and cannot live like a slave. You +know her--and you are in her hand. You are like a snared bird, because +of your strength. And--remember I am a man that has seen much--submit, +Tuan! Submit! . . . Or else . . ." + +He drawled out the last words in a hesitating manner and broke off his +sentence. Still stretching his hands in turns towards the blaze and +without moving his head, Willems gave a short, lugubrious laugh, and +asked-- + +"Or else what?" + +"She may go away again. Who knows?" finished Babalatchi, in a gentle and +insinuating tone. + +This time Willems spun round sharply. Babalatchi stepped back. + +"If she does it will be the worse for you," said Willems, in a menacing +voice. "It will be your doing, and I . . ." + +Babalatchi spoke, from beyond the circle of light, with calm disdain. + +"Hai--ya! I have heard before. If she goes--then I die. Good! Will that +bring her back do you think--Tuan? If it is my doing it shall be well +done, O white man! and--who knows--you will have to live without her." + +Willems gasped and started back like a confident wayfarer who, pursuing +a path he thinks safe, should see just in time a bottomless chasm +under his feet. Babalatchi came into the light and approached Willems +sideways, with his head thrown back and a little on one side so as to +bring his only eye to bear full on the countenance of the tall white +man. + +"You threaten me," said Willems, indistinctly. + +"I, Tuan!" exclaimed Babalatchi, with a slight suspicion of irony in the +affected surprise of his tone. "I, Tuan? Who spoke of death? Was it +I? No! I spoke of life only. Only of life. Of a long life for a lonely +man!" + +They stood with the fire between them, both silent, both aware, each +in his own way, of the importance of the passing minutes. Babalatchi's +fatalism gave him only an insignificant relief in his suspense, because +no fatalism can kill the thought of the future, the desire of success, +the pain of waiting for the disclosure of the immutable decrees of +Heaven. Fatalism is born of the fear of failure, for we all believe that +we carry success in our own hands, and we suspect that our hands are +weak. Babalatchi looked at Willems and congratulated himself upon his +ability to manage that white man. There was a pilot for Abdulla--a +victim to appease Lingard's anger in case of any mishap. He would take +good care to put him forward in everything. In any case let the white +men fight it out amongst themselves. They were fools. He hated them--the +strong fools--and knew that for his righteous wisdom was reserved the +safe triumph. + +Willems measured dismally the depth of his degradation. He--a white man, +the admired of white men, was held by those miserable savages whose tool +he was about to become. He felt for them all the hate of his race, of +his morality, of his intelligence. He looked upon himself with dismay +and pity. She had him. He had heard of such things. He had heard of +women who . . . He would never believe such stories. . . . Yet they +were true. But his own captivity seemed more complete, terrible, and +final--without the hope of any redemption. He wondered at the wickedness +of Providence that had made him what he was; that, worse still, +permitted such a creature as Almayer to live. He had done his duty by +going to him. Why did he not understand? All men were fools. He gave +him his chance. The fellow did not see it. It was hard, very hard on +himself--Willems. He wanted to take her from amongst her own people. +That's why he had condescended to go to Almayer. He examined himself. +With a sinking heart he thought that really he could not--somehow--live +without her. It was terrible and sweet. He remembered the first days. +Her appearance, her face, her smile, her eyes, her words. A savage +woman! Yet he perceived that he could think of nothing else but of the +three days of their separation, of the few hours since their reunion. +Very well. If he could not take her away, then he would go to her. . . . +He had, for a moment, a wicked pleasure in the thought that what he had +done could not be undone. He had given himself up. He felt proud of it. +He was ready to face anything, do anything. He cared for nothing, for +nobody. He thought himself very fearless, but as a matter of fact he was +only drunk; drunk with the poison of passionate memories. + +He stretched his hands over the fire, looked round and called out-- + +"Aissa!" + +She must have been near, for she appeared at once within the light of +the fire. The upper part of her body was wrapped up in the thick folds +of a head covering which was pulled down over her brow, and one end of +it thrown across from shoulder to shoulder hid the lower part of her +face. Only her eyes were visible--sombre and gleaming like a starry +night. + +Willems, looking at this strange, muffled figure, felt exasperated, +amazed and helpless. The ex-confidential clerk of the rich Hudig would +hug to his breast settled conceptions of respectable conduct. He sought +refuge within his ideas of propriety from the dismal mangroves, from +the darkness of the forests and of the heathen souls of the savages that +were his masters. She looked like an animated package of cheap cotton +goods! It made him furious. She had disguised herself so because a man +of her race was near! He told her not to do it, and she did not obey. +Would his ideas ever change so as to agree with her own notions of what +was becoming, proper and respectable? He was really afraid they +would, in time. It seemed to him awful. She would never change! This +manifestation of her sense of proprieties was another sign of their +hopeless diversity; something like another step downwards for him. She +was too different from him. He was so civilized! It struck him suddenly +that they had nothing in common--not a thought, not a feeling; he could +not make clear to her the simplest motive of any act of his . . . and he +could not live without her. + +The courageous man who stood facing Babalatchi gasped unexpectedly with +a gasp that was half a groan. This little matter of her veiling +herself against his wish acted upon him like a disclosure of some +great disaster. It increased his contempt for himself as the slave of +a passion he had always derided, as the man unable to assert his will. +This will, all his sensations, his personality--all this seemed to be +lost in the abominable desire, in the priceless promise of that woman. +He was not, of course, able to discern clearly the causes of his misery; +but there are none so ignorant as not to know suffering, none so simple +as not to feel and suffer from the shock of warring impulses. The +ignorant must feel and suffer from their complexity as well as the +wisest; but to them the pain of struggle and defeat appears strange, +mysterious, remediable and unjust. He stood watching her, watching +himself. He tingled with rage from head to foot, as if he had been +struck in the face. Suddenly he laughed; but his laugh was like a +distorted echo of some insincere mirth very far away. + +From the other side of the fire Babalatchi spoke hurriedly-- + +"Here is Tuan Abdulla." + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +Directly on stepping outside Omar's hut Abdulla caught sight of Willems. +He expected, of course, to see a white man, but not that white man, whom +he knew so well. Everybody who traded in the islands, and who had any +dealings with Hudig, knew Willems. For the last two years of his stay in +Macassar the confidential clerk had been managing all the local trade +of the house under a very slight supervision only on the part of the +master. So everybody knew Willems, Abdulla amongst others--but he was +ignorant of Willems' disgrace. As a matter of fact the thing had been +kept very quiet--so quiet that a good many people in Macassar were +expecting Willems' return there, supposing him to be absent on some +confidential mission. Abdulla, in his surprise, hesitated on the +threshold. He had prepared himself to see some seaman--some old officer +of Lingard's; a common man--perhaps difficult to deal with, but still +no match for him. Instead, he saw himself confronted by an individual +whose reputation for sagacity in business was well known to him. How did +he get here, and why? Abdulla, recovering from his surprise, advanced in +a dignified manner towards the fire, keeping his eyes fixed steadily on +Willems. When within two paces from Willems he stopped and lifted his +right hand in grave salutation. Willems nodded slightly and spoke after +a while. + +"We know each other, Tuan Abdulla," he said, with an assumption of easy +indifference. + +"We have traded together," answered Abdulla, solemnly, "but it was far +from here." + +"And we may trade here also," said Willems. + +"The place does not matter. It is the open mind and the true heart that +are required in business." + +"Very true. My heart is as open as my mind. I will tell you why I am +here." + +"What need is there? In leaving home one learns life. You travel. +Travelling is victory! You shall return with much wisdom." + +"I shall never return," interrupted Willems. "I have done with my +people. I am a man without brothers. Injustice destroys fidelity." + +Abdulla expressed his surprise by elevating his eyebrows. At the same +time he made a vague gesture with his arm that could be taken as an +equivalent of an approving and conciliating "just so!" + +Till then the Arab had not taken any notice of Aissa, who stood by the +fire, but now she spoke in the interval of silence following Willems' +declaration. In a voice that was much deadened by her wrappings she +addressed Abdulla in a few words of greeting, calling him a kinsman. +Abdulla glanced at her swiftly for a second, and then, with perfect +good breeding, fixed his eyes on the ground. She put out towards him her +hand, covered with a corner of her face-veil, and he took it, pressed it +twice, and dropping it turned towards Willems. She looked at the two +men searchingly, then backed away and seemed to melt suddenly into the +night. + +"I know what you came for, Tuan Abdulla," said Willems; "I have been +told by that man there." He nodded towards Babalatchi, then went on +slowly, "It will be a difficult thing." + +"Allah makes everything easy," interjected Babalatchi, piously, from a +distance. + +The two men turned quickly and stood looking at him thoughtfully, as +if in deep consideration of the truth of that proposition. Under their +sustained gaze Babalatchi experienced an unwonted feeling of shyness, +and dared not approach nearer. At last Willems moved slightly, Abdulla +followed readily, and they both walked down the courtyard, their voices +dying away in the darkness. Soon they were heard returning, and the +voices grew distinct as their forms came out of the gloom. By the fire +they wheeled again, and Babalatchi caught a few words. Willems was +saying-- + +"I have been at sea with him many years when young. I have used my +knowledge to observe the way into the river when coming in, this time." + +Abdulla assented in general terms. + +"In the variety of knowledge there is safety," he said; and then they +passed out of earshot. + +Babalatchi ran to the tree and took up his position in the solid +blackness under its branches, leaning against the trunk. There he was +about midway between the fire and the other limit of the two men's walk. +They passed him close. Abdulla slim, very straight, his head high, and +his hands hanging before him and twisting mechanically the string of +beads; Willems tall, broad, looking bigger and stronger in contrast to +the slight white figure by the side of which he strolled carelessly, +taking one step to the other's two; his big arms in constant motion as +he gesticulated vehemently, bending forward to look Abdulla in the face. + +They passed and repassed close to Babalatchi some half a dozen times, +and, whenever they were between him and the fire, he could see them +plain enough. Sometimes they would stop short, Willems speaking +emphatically, Abdulla listening with rigid attention, then, when the +other had ceased, bending his head slightly as if consenting to some +demand, or admitting some statement. Now and then Babalatchi caught +a word here and there, a fragment of a sentence, a loud exclamation. +Impelled by curiosity he crept to the very edge of the black shadow +under the tree. They were nearing him, and he heard Willems say-- + +"You will pay that money as soon as I come on board. That I must have." + +He could not catch Abdulla's reply. When they went past again, Willems +was saying-- + +"My life is in your hand anyway. The boat that brings me on board your +ship shall take the money to Omar. You must have it ready in a sealed +bag." + +Again they were out of hearing, but instead of coming back they stopped +by the fire facing each other. Willems moved his arm, shook his hand +on high talking all the time, then brought it down jerkily--stamped his +foot. A short period of immobility ensued. Babalatchi, gazing intently, +saw Abdulla's lips move almost imperceptibly. Suddenly Willems seized +the Arab's passive hand and shook it. Babalatchi drew the long breath of +relieved suspense. The conference was over. All well, apparently. + +He ventured now to approach the two men, who saw him and waited in +silence. Willems had retired within himself already, and wore a look of +grim indifference. Abdulla moved away a step or two. Babalatchi looked +at him inquisitively. + +"I go now," said Abdulla, "and shall wait for you outside the river, +Tuan Willems, till the second sunset. You have only one word, I know." + +"Only one word," repeated Willems. + +Abdulla and Babalatchi walked together down the enclosure, leaving the +white man alone by the fire. The two Arabs who had come with Abdulla +preceded them and passed at once through the little gate into the light +and the murmur of voices of the principal courtyard, but Babalatchi and +Abdulla stopped on this side of it. Abdulla said-- + +"It is well. We have spoken of many things. He consents." + +"When?" asked Babalatchi, eagerly. + +"On the second day from this. I have promised every thing. I mean to +keep much." + +"Your hand is always open, O Most Generous amongst Believers! You will +not forget your servant who called you here. Have I not spoken the +truth? She has made roast meat of his heart." + +With a horizontal sweep of his arm Abdulla seemed to push away that last +statement, and said slowly, with much meaning-- + +"He must be perfectly safe; do you understand? Perfectly safe--as if he +was amongst his own people--till . . ." + +"Till when?" whispered Babalatchi. + +"Till I speak," said Abdulla. "As to Omar." He hesitated for a moment, +then went on very low: "He is very old." + +"Hai-ya! Old and sick," murmured Babalatchi, with sudden melancholy. + +"He wanted me to kill that white man. He begged me to have him killed at +once," said Abdulla, contemptuously, moving again towards the gate. + +"He is impatient, like those who feel death near them," exclaimed +Babalatchi, apologetically. + +"Omar shall dwell with me," went on Abdulla, "when . . . But no matter. +Remember! The white man must be safe." + +"He lives in your shadow," answered Babalatchi, solemnly. "It is +enough!" He touched his forehead and fell back to let Abdulla go first. + +And now they are back in the courtyard wherefrom, at their appearance, +listlessness vanishes, and all the faces become alert and interested +once more. Lakamba approaches his guest, but looks at Babalatchi, who +reassures him by a confident nod. Lakamba clumsily attempts a smile, +and looking, with natural and ineradicable sulkiness, from under his +eyebrows at the man whom he wants to honour, asks whether he would +condescend to visit the place of sitting down and take food. Or perhaps +he would prefer to give himself up to repose? The house is his, and what +is in it, and those many men that stand afar watching the interview are +his. Syed Abdulla presses his host's hand to his breast, and informs him +in a confidential murmur that his habits are ascetic and his temperament +inclines to melancholy. No rest; no food; no use whatever for those +many men who are his. Syed Abdulla is impatient to be gone. Lakamba is +sorrowful but polite, in his hesitating, gloomy way. Tuan Abdulla must +have fresh boatmen, and many, to shorten the dark and fatiguing road. +Hai-ya! There! Boats! + +By the riverside indistinct forms leap into a noisy and disorderly +activity. There are cries, orders, banter, abuse. Torches blaze sending +out much more smoke than light, and in their red glare Babalatchi comes +up to say that the boats are ready. + +Through that lurid glare Syed Abdulla, in his long white gown, seems +to glide fantastically, like a dignified apparition attended by two +inferior shades, and stands for a moment at the landing-place to +take leave of his host and ally--whom he loves. Syed Abdulla says so +distinctly before embarking, and takes his seat in the middle of the +canoe under a small canopy of blue calico stretched on four sticks. +Before and behind Syed Abdulla, the men squatting by the gunwales hold +high the blades of their paddles in readiness for a dip, all together. +Ready? Not yet. Hold on all! Syed Abdulla speaks again, while Lakamba +and Babalatchi stand close on the bank to hear his words. His words are +encouraging. Before the sun rises for the second time they shall meet, +and Syed Abdulla's ship shall float on the waters of this river--at +last! Lakamba and Babalatchi have no doubt--if Allah wills. They are in +the hands of the Compassionate. No doubt. And so is Syed Abdulla, the +great trader who does not know what the word failure means; and so is +the white man--the smartest business man in the islands--who is lying +now by Omar's fire with his head on Aissa's lap, while Syed Abdulla +flies down the muddy river with current and paddles between the sombre +walls of the sleeping forest; on his way to the clear and open sea where +the Lord of the Isles (formerly of Greenock, but condemned, sold, and +registered now as of Penang) waits for its owner, and swings erratically +at anchor in the currents of the capricious tide, under the crumbling +red cliffs of Tanjong Mirrah. + +For some time Lakamba, Sahamin, and Bahassoen looked silently into the +humid darkness which had swallowed the big canoe that carried Abdulla +and his unvarying good fortune. Then the two guests broke into a talk +expressive of their joyful anticipations. The venerable Sahamin, as +became his advanced age, found his delight in speculation as to the +activities of a rather remote future. He would buy praus, he would send +expeditions up the river, he would enlarge his trade, and, backed by +Abdulla's capital, he would grow rich in a very few years. Very few. +Meantime it would be a good thing to interview Almayer to-morrow and, +profiting by the last day of the hated man's prosperity, obtain some +goods from him on credit. Sahamin thought it could be done by skilful +wheedling. After all, that son of Satan was a fool, and the thing was +worth doing, because the coming revolution would wipe all debts out. +Sahamin did not mind imparting that idea to his companions, with much +senile chuckling, while they strolled together from the riverside +towards the residence. The bull-necked Lakamba, listening with pouted +lips without the sign of a smile, without a gleam in his dull, bloodshot +eyes, shuffled slowly across the courtyard between his two guests. But +suddenly Bahassoen broke in upon the old man's prattle with the generous +enthusiasm of his youth. . . . Trading was very good. But was the +change that would make them happy effected yet? The white man should be +despoiled with a strong hand! . . . He grew excited, spoke very loud, +and his further discourse, delivered with his hand on the hilt of his +sword, dealt incoherently with the honourable topics of throat-cutting, +fire-raising, and with the far-famed valour of his ancestors. + +Babalatchi remained behind, alone with the greatness of his conceptions. +The sagacious statesman of Sambir sent a scornful glance after his noble +protector and his noble protector's friends, and then stood meditating +about that future which to the others seemed so assured. Not so to +Babalatchi, who paid the penalty of his wisdom by a vague sense of +insecurity that kept sleep at arm's length from his tired body. When he +thought at last of leaving the waterside, it was only to strike a path +for himself and to creep along the fences, avoiding the middle of the +courtyard where small fires glimmered and winked as though the sinister +darkness there had reflected the stars of the serene heaven. He slunk +past the wicket-gate of Omar's enclosure, and crept on patiently along +the light bamboo palisade till he was stopped by the angle where it +joined the heavy stockade of Lakamba's private ground. Standing there, +he could look over the fence and see Omar's hut and the fire before its +door. He could also see the shadow of two human beings sitting between +him and the red glow. A man and a woman. The sight seemed to inspire the +careworn sage with a frivolous desire to sing. It could hardly be called +a song; it was more in the nature of a recitative without any rhythm, +delivered rapidly but distinctly in a croaking and unsteady voice; and +if Babalatchi considered it a song, then it was a song with a purpose +and, perhaps for that reason, artistically defective. It had all the +imperfections of unskilful improvisation and its subject was gruesome. +It told a tale of shipwreck and of thirst, and of one brother killing +another for the sake of a gourd of water. A repulsive story which might +have had a purpose but possessed no moral whatever. Yet it must have +pleased Babalatchi for he repeated it twice, the second time even in +louder tones than at first, causing a disturbance amongst the white +rice-birds and the wild fruit-pigeons which roosted on the boughs of +the big tree growing in Omar's compound. There was in the thick foliage +above the singer's head a confused beating of wings, sleepy remarks in +bird-language, a sharp stir of leaves. The forms by the fire moved; the +shadow of the woman altered its shape, and Babalatchi's song was cut +short abruptly by a fit of soft and persistent coughing. He did not try +to resume his efforts after that interruption, but went away stealthily +to seek--if not sleep--then, at least, repose. + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +As soon as Abdulla and his companions had left the enclosure, Aissa +approached Willems and stood by his side. He took no notice of her +expectant attitude till she touched him gently, when he turned furiously +upon her and, tearing off her face-veil, trampled upon it as though +it had been a mortal enemy. She looked at him with the faint smile of +patient curiosity, with the puzzled interest of ignorance watching the +running of a complicated piece of machinery. After he had exhausted his +rage, he stood again severe and unbending looking down at the fire, but +the touch of her fingers at the nape of his neck effaced instantly the +hard lines round his mouth; his eyes wavered uneasily; his lips trembled +slightly. Starting with the unresisting rapidity of a particle of +iron--which, quiescent one moment, leaps in the next to a powerful +magnet--he moved forward, caught her in his arms and pressed her +violently to his breast. He released her as suddenly, and she stumbled a +little, stepped back, breathed quickly through her parted lips, and said +in a tone of pleased reproof-- + +"O Fool-man! And if you had killed me in your strong arms what would you +have done?" + +"You want to live . . . and to run away from me again," he said gently. +"Tell me--do you?" + +She moved towards him with very short steps, her head a little on one +side, hands on hips, with a slight balancing of her body: an approach +more tantalizing than an escape. He looked on, eager--charmed. She spoke +jestingly. + +"What am I to say to a man who has been away three days from me? Three!" +she repeated, holding up playfully three fingers before Willems' eyes. +He snatched at the hand, but she was on her guard and whisked it behind +her back. + +"No!" she said. "I cannot be caught. But I will come. I am coming myself +because I like. Do not move. Do not touch me with your mighty hands, O +child!" + +As she spoke she made a step nearer, then another. Willems did not stir. +Pressing against him she stood on tiptoe to look into his eyes, and +her own seemed to grow bigger, glistening and tender, appealing and +promising. With that look she drew the man's soul away from him through +his immobile pupils, and from Willems' features the spark of reason +vanished under her gaze and was replaced by an appearance of physical +well-being, an ecstasy of the senses which had taken possession of his +rigid body; an ecstasy that drove out regrets, hesitation and doubt, +and proclaimed its terrible work by an appalling aspect of idiotic +beatitude. He never stirred a limb, hardly breathed, but stood in stiff +immobility, absorbing the delight of her close contact by every pore. + +"Closer! Closer!" he murmured. + +Slowly she raised her arms, put them over his shoulders, and clasping +her hands at the back of his neck, swung off the full length of her +arms. Her head fell back, the eyelids dropped slightly, and her thick +hair hung straight down: a mass of ebony touched by the red gleams of +the fire. He stood unyielding under the strain, as solid and motionless +as one of the big trees of the surrounding forests; and his eyes +looked at the modelling of her chin, at the outline of her neck, at +the swelling lines of her bosom, with the famished and concentrated +expression of a starving man looking at food. She drew herself up to him +and rubbed her head against his cheek slowly and gently. He sighed. She, +with her hands still on his shoulders, glanced up at the placid stars +and said-- + +"The night is half gone. We shall finish it by this fire. By this +fire you shall tell me all: your words and Syed Abdulla's words; and +listening to you I shall forget the three days--because I am good. Tell +me--am I good?" + +He said "Yes" dreamily, and she ran off towards the big house. + +When she came back, balancing a roll of fine mats on her head, he had +replenished the fire and was ready to help her in arranging a couch +on the side of it nearest to the hut. She sank down with a quick but +gracefully controlled movement, and he threw himself full length with +impatient haste, as if he wished to forestall somebody. She took his +head on her knees, and when he felt her hands touching his face, her +fingers playing with his hair, he had an expression of being taken +possession of; he experienced a sense of peace, of rest, of happiness, +and of soothing delight. His hands strayed upwards about her neck, and +he drew her down so as to have her face above his. Then he whispered--"I +wish I could die like this--now!" She looked at him with her big sombre +eyes, in which there was no responsive light. His thought was so remote +from her understanding that she let the words pass by unnoticed, like +the breath of the wind, like the flight of a cloud. Woman though +she was, she could not comprehend, in her simplicity, the tremendous +compliment of that speech, that whisper of deadly happiness, so +sincere, so spontaneous, coming so straight from the heart--like every +corruption. It was the voice of madness, of a delirious peace, of +happiness that is infamous, cowardly, and so exquisite that the debased +mind refuses to contemplate its termination: for to the victims of such +happiness the moment of its ceasing is the beginning afresh of that +torture which is its price. + +With her brows slightly knitted in the determined preoccupation of her +own desires, she said-- + +"Now tell me all. All the words spoken between you and Syed Abdulla." + +Tell what? What words? Her voice recalled back the consciousness that +had departed under her touch, and he became aware of the passing minutes +every one of which was like a reproach; of those minutes that falling, +slow, reluctant, irresistible into the past, marked his footsteps on the +way to perdition. Not that he had any conviction about it, any notion of +the possible ending on that painful road. It was an indistinct feeling, +a threat of suffering like the confused warning of coming disease, +an inarticulate monition of evil made up of fear and pleasure, of +resignation and of revolt. He was ashamed of his state of mind. After +all, what was he afraid of? Were those scruples? Why that hesitation to +think, to speak of what he intended doing? Scruples were for imbeciles. +His clear duty was to make himself happy. Did he ever take an oath of +fidelity to Lingard? No. Well then--he would not let any interest of +that old fool stand between Willems and Willems' happiness. Happiness? +Was he not, perchance, on a false track? Happiness meant money. Much +money. At least he had always thought so till he had experienced those +new sensations which . . . + +Aissa's question, repeated impatiently, interrupted his musings, and +looking up at her face shining above him in the dim light of the fire +he stretched his limbs luxuriously and obedient to her desire, he spoke +slowly and hardly above his breath. She, with her head close to his +lips, listened absorbed, interested, in attentive immobility. The many +noises of the great courtyard were hushed up gradually by the sleep that +stilled all voices and closed all eyes. Then somebody droned out a song +with a nasal drawl at the end of every verse. He stirred. She put her +hand suddenly on his lips and sat upright. There was a feeble coughing, +a rustle of leaves, and then a complete silence took possession of the +land; a silence cold, mournful, profound; more like death than peace; +more hard to bear than the fiercest tumult. As soon as she removed her +hand he hastened to speak, so insupportable to him was that stillness +perfect and absolute in which his thoughts seemed to ring with the +loudness of shouts. + +"Who was there making that noise?" he asked. + +"I do not know. He is gone now," she answered, hastily. "Tell me, you +will not return to your people; not without me. Not with me. Do you +promise?" + +"I have promised already. I have no people of my own. Have I not told +you, that you are everybody to me?" + +"Ah, yes," she said, slowly, "but I like to hear you say that +again--every day, and every night, whenever I ask; and never to be angry +because I ask. I am afraid of white women who are shameless and have +fierce eyes." She scanned his features close for a moment and added: + +"Are they very beautiful? They must be." + +"I do not know," he whispered, thoughtfully. "And if I ever did know, +looking at you I have forgotten." + +"Forgotten! And for three days and two nights you have forgotten me +also! Why? Why were you angry with me when I spoke at first of Tuan +Abdulla, in the days when we lived beside the brook? You remembered +somebody then. Somebody in the land whence you come. Your tongue is +false. You are white indeed, and your heart is full of deception. I know +it. And yet I cannot help believing you when you talk of your love for +me. But I am afraid!" + +He felt flattered and annoyed by her vehemence, and said-- + +"Well, I am with you now. I did come back. And it was you that went +away." + +"When you have helped Abdulla against the Rajah Laut, who is the first +of white men, I shall not be afraid any more," she whispered. + +"You must believe what I say when I tell you that there never was +another woman; that there is nothing for me to regret, and nothing but +my enemies to remember." + +"Where do you come from?" she said, impulsive and inconsequent, in a +passionate whisper. "What is that land beyond the great sea from which +you come? A land of lies and of evil from which nothing but misfortune +ever comes to us--who are not white. Did you not at first ask me to go +there with you? That is why I went away." + +"I shall never ask you again." + +"And there is no woman waiting for you there?" + +"No!" said Willems, firmly. + +She bent over him. Her lips hovered above his face and her long hair +brushed his cheeks. + +"You taught me the love of your people which is of the Devil," she +murmured, and bending still lower, she said faintly, "Like this?" + +"Yes, like this!" he answered very low, in a voice that trembled +slightly with eagerness; and she pressed suddenly her lips to his while +he closed his eyes in an ecstasy of delight. + +There was a long interval of silence. She stroked his head with gentle +touches, and he lay dreamily, perfectly happy but for the annoyance of +an indistinct vision of a well-known figure; a man going away from him +and diminishing in a long perspective of fantastic trees, whose every +leaf was an eye looking after that man, who walked away growing smaller, +but never getting out of sight for all his steady progress. He felt a +desire to see him vanish, a hurried impatience of his disappearance, and +he watched for it with a careful and irksome effort. There was something +familiar about that figure. Why! Himself! He gave a sudden start and +opened his eyes, quivering with the emotion of that quick return from so +far, of finding himself back by the fire with the rapidity of a flash of +lightning. It had been half a dream; he had slumbered in her arms for +a few seconds. Only the beginning of a dream--nothing more. But it was +some time before he recovered from the shock of seeing himself go away +so deliberately, so definitely, so unguardedly; and going away--where? +Now, if he had not woke up in time he would never have come back again +from there; from whatever place he was going to. He felt indignant. It +was like an evasion, like a prisoner breaking his parole--that thing +slinking off stealthily while he slept. He was very indignant, and was +also astonished at the absurdity of his own emotions. + +She felt him tremble, and murmuring tender words, pressed his head +to her breast. Again he felt very peaceful with a peace that was as +complete as the silence round them. He muttered-- + +"You are tired, Aissa." + +She answered so low that it was like a sigh shaped into faint words. + +"I shall watch your sleep, O child!" + +He lay very quiet, and listened to the beating of her heart. That sound, +light, rapid, persistent, and steady; her very life beating against his +cheek, gave him a clear perception of secure ownership, strengthened his +belief in his possession of that human being, was like an assurance of +the vague felicity of the future. There were no regrets, no doubts, +no hesitation now. Had there ever been? All that seemed far away, ages +ago--as unreal and pale as the fading memory of some delirium. All the +anguish, suffering, strife of the past days; the humiliation and anger +of his downfall; all that was an infamous nightmare, a thing born in +sleep to be forgotten and leave no trace--and true life was this: this +dreamy immobility with his head against her heart that beat so steadily. + +He was broad awake now, with that tingling wakefulness of the tired body +which succeeds to the few refreshing seconds of irresistible sleep, and +his wide-open eyes looked absently at the doorway of Omar's hut. The +reed walls glistened in the light of the fire, the smoke of which, thin +and blue, drifted slanting in a succession of rings and spirals across +the doorway, whose empty blackness seemed to him impenetrable and +enigmatical like a curtain hiding vast spaces full of unexpected +surprises. This was only his fancy, but it was absorbing enough to make +him accept the sudden appearance of a head, coming out of the gloom, as +part of his idle fantasy or as the beginning of another short dream, +of another vagary of his overtired brain. A face with drooping eyelids, +old, thin, and yellow, above the scattered white of a long beard that +touched the earth. A head without a body, only a foot above the ground, +turning slightly from side to side on the edge of the circle of light +as if to catch the radiating heat of the fire on either cheek in +succession. He watched it in passive amazement, growing distinct, as if +coming nearer to him, and the confused outlines of a body crawling +on all fours came out, creeping inch by inch towards the fire, with +a silent and all but imperceptible movement. He was astounded at the +appearance of that blind head dragging that crippled body behind, +without a sound, without a change in the composure of the sightless +face, which was plain one second, blurred the next in the play of the +light that drew it to itself steadily. A mute face with a kriss between +its lips. This was no dream. Omar's face. But why? What was he after? + +He was too indolent in the happy languor of the moment to answer the +question. It darted through his brain and passed out, leaving him +free to listen again to the beating of her heart; to that precious and +delicate sound which filled the quiet immensity of the night. Glancing +upwards he saw the motionless head of the woman looking down at him in +a tender gleam of liquid white between the long eyelashes, whose shadow +rested on the soft curve of her cheek; and under the caress of that +look, the uneasy wonder and the obscure fear of that apparition, +crouching and creeping in turns towards the fire that was its guide, +were lost--were drowned in the quietude of all his senses, as pain is +drowned in the flood of drowsy serenity that follows upon a dose of +opium. + +He altered the position of his head by ever so little, and now could see +easily that apparition which he had seen a minute before and had nearly +forgotten already. It had moved closer, gliding and noiseless like the +shadow of some nightmare, and now it was there, very near, motionless +and still as if listening; one hand and one knee advanced; the neck +stretched out and the head turned full towards the fire. He could see +the emaciated face, the skin shiny over the prominent bones, the black +shadows of the hollow temples and sunken cheeks, and the two patches of +blackness over the eyes, over those eyes that were dead and could not +see. What was the impulse which drove out this blind cripple into +the night to creep and crawl towards that fire? He looked at him, +fascinated, but the face, with its shifting lights and shadows, let out +nothing, closed and impenetrable like a walled door. + +Omar raised himself to a kneeling posture and sank on his heels, with +his hands hanging down before him. Willems, looking out of his dreamy +numbness, could see plainly the kriss between the thin lips, a bar +across the face; the handle on one side where the polished wood caught a +red gleam from the fire and the thin line of the blade running to a dull +black point on the other. He felt an inward shock, which left his body +passive in Aissa's embrace, but filled his breast with a tumult of +powerless fear; and he perceived suddenly that it was his own death that +was groping towards him; that it was the hate of himself and the hate of +her love for him which drove this helpless wreck of a once brilliant and +resolute pirate, to attempt a desperate deed that would be the glorious +and supreme consolation of an unhappy old age. And while he looked, +paralyzed with dread, at the father who had resumed his cautious +advance--blind like fate, persistent like destiny--he listened with +greedy eagerness to the heart of the daughter beating light, rapid, and +steady against his head. + +He was in the grip of horrible fear; of a fear whose cold hand robs its +victim of all will and of all power; of all wish to escape, to resist, +or to move; which destroys hope and despair alike, and holds the empty +and useless carcass as if in a vise under the coming stroke. It was not +the fear of death--he had faced danger before--it was not even the fear +of that particular form of death. It was not the fear of the end, for he +knew that the end would not come then. A movement, a leap, a shout would +save him from the feeble hand of the blind old man, from that hand that +even now was, with cautious sweeps along the ground, feeling for his +body in the darkness. It was the unreasoning fear of this glimpse +into the unknown things, into those motives, impulses, desires he had +ignored, but that had lived in the breasts of despised men, close by his +side, and were revealed to him for a second, to be hidden again behind +the black mists of doubt and deception. It was not death that frightened +him: it was the horror of bewildered life where he could understand +nothing and nobody round him; where he could guide, control, comprehend +nothing and no one--not even himself. + +He felt a touch on his side. That contact, lighter than the caress of a +mother's hand on the cheek of a sleeping child, had for him the force of +a crushing blow. Omar had crept close, and now, kneeling above him, held +the kriss in one hand while the other skimmed over his jacket up towards +his breast in gentle touches; but the blind face, still turned to +the heat of the fire, was set and immovable in its aspect of stony +indifference to things it could not hope to see. With an effort Willems +took his eyes off the deathlike mask and turned them up to Aissa's head. +She sat motionless as if she had been part of the sleeping earth, then +suddenly he saw her big sombre eyes open out wide in a piercing stare +and felt the convulsive pressure of her hands pinning his arms along +his body. A second dragged itself out, slow and bitter, like a day of +mourning; a second full of regret and grief for that faith in her which +took its flight from the shattered ruins of his trust. She was holding +him! She too! He felt her heart give a great leap, his head slipped down +on her knees, he closed his eyes and there was nothing. Nothing! It was +as if she had died; as though her heart had leaped out into the night, +abandoning him, defenceless and alone, in an empty world. + +His head struck the ground heavily as she flung him aside in her sudden +rush. He lay as if stunned, face up and, daring not move, did not see +the struggle, but heard the piercing shriek of mad fear, her low angry +words; another shriek dying out in a moan. When he got up at last he +looked at Aissa kneeling over her father, he saw her bent back in the +effort of holding him down, Omar's contorted limbs, a hand thrown up +above her head and her quick movement grasping the wrist. He made an +impulsive step forward, but she turned a wild face to him and called out +over her shoulder-- + +"Keep back! Do not come near! Do not. . . ." + +And he stopped short, his arms hanging lifelessly by his side, as if +those words had changed him into stone. She was afraid of his possible +violence, but in the unsettling of all his convictions he was struck +with the frightful thought that she preferred to kill her father all +by herself; and the last stage of their struggle, at which he looked +as though a red fog had filled his eyes, loomed up with an unnatural +ferocity, with a sinister meaning; like something monstrous and +depraved, forcing its complicity upon him under the cover of that awful +night. He was horrified and grateful; drawn irresistibly to her--and +ready to run away. He could not move at first--then he did not want +to stir. He wanted to see what would happen. He saw her lift, with +a tremendous effort, the apparently lifeless body into the hut, and +remained standing, after they disappeared, with the vivid image in his +eyes of that head swaying on her shoulder, the lower jaw hanging down, +collapsed, passive, meaningless, like the head of a corpse. + +Then after a while he heard her voice speaking inside, harshly, with an +agitated abruptness of tone; and in answer there were groans and +broken murmurs of exhaustion. She spoke louder. He heard her saying +violently--"No! No! Never!" + +And again a plaintive murmur of entreaty as of some one begging for a +supreme favour, with a last breath. Then she said-- + +"Never! I would sooner strike it into my own heart." + +She came out, stood panting for a short moment in the doorway, and then +stepped into the firelight. Behind her, through the darkness came the +sound of words calling the vengeance of heaven on her head, rising +higher, shrill, strained, repeating the curse over and over again--till +the voice cracked in a passionate shriek that died out into hoarse +muttering ending with a deep and prolonged sigh. She stood facing +Willems, one hand behind her back, the other raised in a gesture +compelling attention, and she listened in that attitude till all was +still inside the hut. Then she made another step forward and her hand +dropped slowly. + +"Nothing but misfortune," she whispered, absently, to herself. "Nothing +but misfortune to us who are not white." The anger and excitement died +out of her face, and she looked straight at Willems with an intense and +mournful gaze. + +He recovered his senses and his power of speech with a sudden start. + +"Aissa," he exclaimed, and the words broke out through his lips with +hurried nervousness. "Aissa! How can I live here? Trust me. Believe in +me. Let us go away from here. Go very far away! Very far; you and I!" + +He did not stop to ask himself whether he could escape, and how, and +where. He was carried away by the flood of hate, disgust, and contempt +of a white man for that blood which is not his blood, for that race +which is not his race; for the brown skins; for the hearts false like +the sea, blacker than night. This feeling of repulsion overmastered his +reason in a clear conviction of the impossibility for him to live with +her people. He urged her passionately to fly with him because out of all +that abhorred crowd he wanted this one woman, but wanted her away from +them, away from that race of slaves and cut-throats from which she +sprang. He wanted her for himself--far from everybody, in some safe and +dumb solitude. And as he spoke his anger and contempt rose, his hate +became almost fear; and his desire of her grew immense, burning, +illogical and merciless; crying to him through all his senses; +louder than his hate, stronger than his fear, deeper than his +contempt--irresistible and certain like death itself. + +Standing at a little distance, just within the light--but on the +threshold of that darkness from which she had come--she listened, one +hand still behind her back, the other arm stretched out with the hand +half open as if to catch the fleeting words that rang around her, +passionate, menacing, imploring, but all tinged with the anguish of his +suffering, all hurried by the impatience that gnawed his breast. And +while she listened she felt a slowing down of her heart-beats as the +meaning of his appeal grew clearer before her indignant eyes, as she saw +with rage and pain the edifice of her love, her own work, crumble slowly +to pieces, destroyed by that man's fears, by that man's falseness. Her +memory recalled the days by the brook when she had listened to other +words--to other thoughts--to promises and to pleadings for other things, +which came from that man's lips at the bidding of her look or her smile, +at the nod of her head, at the whisper of her lips. Was there then in +his heart something else than her image, other desires than the desires +of her love, other fears than the fear of losing her? How could that be? +Had she grown ugly or old in a moment? She was appalled, surprised and +angry with the anger of unexpected humiliation; and her eyes looked +fixedly, sombre and steady, at that man born in the land of violence +and of evil wherefrom nothing but misfortune comes to those who are not +white. Instead of thinking of her caresses, instead of forgetting all +the world in her embrace, he was thinking yet of his people; of that +people that steals every land, masters every sea, that knows no mercy +and no truth--knows nothing but its own strength. O man of strong arm +and of false heart! Go with him to a far country, be lost in the throng +of cold eyes and false hearts--lose him there! Never! He was mad--mad +with fear; but he should not escape her! She would keep him here a slave +and a master; here where he was alone with her; where he must live for +her--or die. She had a right to his love which was of her making, to the +love that was in him now, while he spoke those words without sense. She +must put between him and other white men a barrier of hate. He must not +only stay, but he must also keep his promise to Abdulla, the fulfilment +of which would make her safe. + +"Aissa, let us go! With you by my side I would attack them with my naked +hands. Or no! Tomorrow we shall be outside, on board Abdulla's ship. +You shall come with me and then I could . . . If the ship went ashore by +some chance, then we could steal a canoe and escape in the confusion. +. . . You are not afraid of the sea . . . of the sea that would give me +freedom . . ." + +He was approaching her gradually with extended arms, while he pleaded +ardently in incoherent words that ran over and tripped each other in the +extreme eagerness of his speech. She stepped back, keeping her distance, +her eyes on his face, watching on it the play of his doubts and of his +hopes with a piercing gaze, that seemed to search out the innermost +recesses of his thought; and it was as if she had drawn slowly the +darkness round her, wrapping herself in its undulating folds that made +her indistinct and vague. He followed her step by step till at last they +both stopped, facing each other under the big tree of the enclosure. +The solitary exile of the forests, great, motionless and solemn in his +abandonment, left alone by the life of ages that had been pushed away +from him by those pigmies that crept at his foot, towered high and +straight above their heads. He seemed to look on, dispassionate and +imposing, in his lonely greatness, spreading his branches wide in a +gesture of lofty protection, as if to hide them in the sombre shelter +of innumerable leaves; as if moved by the disdainful compassion of the +strong, by the scornful pity of an aged giant, to screen this struggle +of two human hearts from the cold scrutiny of glittering stars. + +The last cry of his appeal to her mercy rose loud, vibrated under the +sombre canopy, darted among the boughs startling the white birds that +slept wing to wing--and died without an echo, strangled in the dense +mass of unstirring leaves. He could not see her face, but he heard +her sighs and the distracted murmur of indistinct words. Then, as he +listened holding his breath, she exclaimed suddenly-- + +"Have you heard him? He has cursed me because I love you. You brought +me suffering and strife--and his curse. And now you want to take me far +away where I would lose you, lose my life; because your love is my +life now. What else is there? Do not move," she cried violently, as he +stirred a little--"do not speak! Take this! Sleep in peace!" + +He saw a shadowy movement of her arm. Something whizzed past and struck +the ground behind him, close to the fire. Instinctively he turned round +to look at it. A kriss without its sheath lay by the embers; a sinuous +dark object, looking like something that had been alive and was now +crushed, dead and very inoffensive; a black wavy outline very distinct +and still in the dull red glow. Without thinking he moved to pick it up, +stooping with the sad and humble movement of a beggar gathering the +alms flung into the dust of the roadside. Was this the answer to his +pleading, to the hot and living words that came from his heart? Was this +the answer thrown at him like an insult, that thing made of wood and +iron, insignificant and venomous, fragile and deadly? He held it by the +blade and looked at the handle stupidly for a moment before he let +it fall again at his feet; and when he turned round he faced only the +night:--the night immense, profound and quiet; a sea of darkness in +which she had disappeared without leaving a trace. + +He moved forward with uncertain steps, putting out both his hands before +him with the anguish of a man blinded suddenly. + +"Aissa!" he cried--"come to me at once." + +He peered and listened, but saw nothing, heard nothing. After a while +the solid blackness seemed to wave before his eyes like a curtain +disclosing movements but hiding forms, and he heard light and hurried +footsteps, then the short clatter of the gate leading to Lakamba's +private enclosure. He sprang forward and brought up against the rough +timber in time to hear the words, "Quick! Quick!" and the sound of the +wooden bar dropped on the other side, securing the gate. With his arms +thrown up, the palms against the paling, he slid down in a heap on the +ground. + +"Aissa," he said, pleadingly, pressing his lips to a chink between the +stakes. "Aissa, do you hear me? Come back! I will do what you want, give +you all you desire--if I have to set the whole Sambir on fire and put +that fire out with blood. Only come back. Now! At once! Are you there? +Do you hear me? Aissa!" + +On the other side there were startled whispers of feminine voices; a +frightened little laugh suddenly interrupted; some woman's admiring +murmur--"This is brave talk!" Then after a short silence Aissa cried-- + +"Sleep in peace--for the time of your going is near. Now I am afraid of +you. Afraid of your fear. When you return with Tuan Abdulla you shall +be great. You will find me here. And there will be nothing but love. +Nothing else!--Always!--Till we die!" + +He listened to the shuffle of footsteps going away, and staggered to his +feet, mute with the excess of his passionate anger against that being +so savage and so charming; loathing her, himself, everybody he had +ever known; the earth, the sky, the very air he drew into his oppressed +chest; loathing it because it made him live, loathing her because she +made him suffer. But he could not leave that gate through which she had +passed. He wandered a little way off, then swerved round, came back and +fell down again by the stockade only to rise suddenly in another attempt +to break away from the spell that held him, that brought him back there, +dumb, obedient and furious. And under the immobilized gesture of lofty +protection in the branches outspread wide above his head, under the +high branches where white birds slept wing to wing in the shelter of +countless leaves, he tossed like a grain of dust in a whirlwind--sinking +and rising--round and round--always near that gate. All through the +languid stillness of that night he fought with the impalpable; he fought +with the shadows, with the darkness, with the silence. He fought without +a sound, striking futile blows, dashing from side to side; obstinate, +hopeless, and always beaten back; like a man bewitched within the +invisible sweep of a magic circle. + + + + +PART III + + +CHAPTER ONE + +"Yes! Cat, dog, anything that can scratch or bite; as long as it is +harmful enough and mangy enough. A sick tiger would make you happy--of +all things. A half-dead tiger that you could weep over and palm upon +some poor devil in your power, to tend and nurse for you. Never mind +the consequences--to the poor devil. Let him be mangled or eaten up, of +course! You haven't any pity to spare for the victims of your infernal +charity. Not you! Your tender heart bleeds only for what is poisonous +and deadly. I curse the day when you set your benevolent eyes on him. I +curse it . . ." + +"Now then! Now then!" growled Lingard in his moustache. Almayer, who had +talked himself up to the choking point, drew a long breath and went on-- + +"Yes! It has been always so. Always. As far back as I can remember. +Don't you recollect? What about that half-starved dog you brought on +board in Bankok in your arms. In your arms by . . . ! It went mad next +day and bit the serang. You don't mean to say you have forgotten? The +best serang you ever had! You said so yourself while you were helping +us to lash him down to the chain-cable, just before he died in his fits. +Now, didn't you? Two wives and ever so many children the man left. That +was your doing. . . . And when you went out of your way and risked +your ship to rescue some Chinamen from a water-logged junk in Formosa +Straits, that was also a clever piece of business. Wasn't it? Those +damned Chinamen rose on you before forty-eight hours. They were +cut-throats, those poor fishermen. You knew they were cut-throats before +you made up your mind to run down on a lee shore in a gale of wind +to save them. A mad trick! If they hadn't been scoundrels--hopeless +scoundrels--you would not have put your ship in jeopardy for them, I +know. You would not have risked the lives of your crew--that crew you +loved so--and your own life. Wasn't that foolish! And, besides, you were +not honest. Suppose you had been drowned? I would have been in a pretty +mess then, left alone here with that adopted daughter of yours. Your +duty was to myself first. I married that girl because you promised to +make my fortune. You know you did! And then three months afterwards you +go and do that mad trick--for a lot of Chinamen too. Chinamen! You have +no morality. I might have been ruined for the sake of those murderous +scoundrels that, after all, had to be driven overboard after killing +ever so many of your crew--of your beloved crew! Do you call that +honest?" + +"Well, well!" muttered Lingard, chewing nervously the stump of his +cheroot that had gone out and looking at Almayer--who stamped wildly +about the verandah--much as a shepherd might look at a pet sheep in +his obedient flock turning unexpectedly upon him in enraged revolt. He +seemed disconcerted, contemptuously angry yet somewhat amused; and also +a little hurt as if at some bitter jest at his own expense. Almayer +stopped suddenly, and crossing his arms on his breast, bent his body +forward and went on speaking. + +"I might have been left then in an awkward hole--all on account of your +absurd disregard for your safety--yet I bore no grudge. I knew your +weaknesses. But now--when I think of it! Now we are ruined. Ruined! +Ruined! My poor little Nina. Ruined!" + +He slapped his thighs smartly, walked with small steps this way and +that, seized a chair, planted it with a bang before Lingard, and sat +down staring at the old seaman with haggard eyes. Lingard, returning his +stare steadily, dived slowly into various pockets, fished out at last a +box of matches and proceeded to light his cheroot carefully, rolling it +round and round between his lips, without taking his gaze for a moment +off the distressed Almayer. Then from behind a cloud of tobacco smoke he +said calmly-- + +"If you had been in trouble as often as I have, my boy, you wouldn't +carry on so. I have been ruined more than once. Well, here I am." + +"Yes, here you are," interrupted Almayer. "Much good it is to me. Had +you been here a month ago it would have been of some use. But now! . . +You might as well be a thousand miles off." + +"You scold like a drunken fish-wife," said Lingard, serenely. He got up +and moved slowly to the front rail of the verandah. The floor shook and +the whole house vibrated under his heavy step. For a moment he stood +with his back to Almayer, looking out on the river and forest of the +east bank, then turned round and gazed mildly down upon him. + +"It's very lonely this morning here. Hey?" he said. + +Almayer lifted up his head. + +"Ah! you notice it--don't you? I should think it is lonely! Yes, Captain +Lingard, your day is over in Sambir. Only a month ago this verandah +would have been full of people coming to greet you. Fellows would be +coming up those steps grinning and salaaming--to you and to me. But our +day is over. And not by my fault either. You can't say that. It's all +the doing of that pet rascal of yours. Ah! He is a beauty! You should +have seen him leading that hellish crowd. You would have been proud of +your old favourite." + +"Smart fellow that," muttered Lingard, thoughtfully. Almayer jumped up +with a shriek. + +"And that's all you have to say! Smart fellow! O Lord!" + +"Don't make a show of yourself. Sit down. Let's talk quietly. I want to +know all about it. So he led?" + +"He was the soul of the whole thing. He piloted Abdulla's ship in. He +ordered everything and everybody," said Almayer, who sat down again, +with a resigned air. + +"When did it happen--exactly?" + +"On the sixteenth I heard the first rumours of Abdulla's ship being in +the river; a thing I refused to believe at first. Next day I could not +doubt any more. There was a great council held openly in Lakamba's place +where almost everybody in Sambir attended. On the eighteenth the Lord of +the Isles was anchored in Sambir reach, abreast of my house. Let's see. +Six weeks to-day, exactly." + +"And all that happened like this? All of a sudden. You never heard +anything--no warning. Nothing. Never had an idea that something was up? +Come, Almayer!" + +"Heard! Yes, I used to hear something every day. Mostly lies. Is there +anything else in Sambir?" + +"You might not have believed them," observed Lingard. "In fact you ought +not to have believed everything that was told to you, as if you had been +a green hand on his first voyage." + +Almayer moved in his chair uneasily. + +"That scoundrel came here one day," he said. "He had been away from the +house for a couple of months living with that woman. I only heard about +him now and then from Patalolo's people when they came over. Well one +day, about noon, he appeared in this courtyard, as if he had been jerked +up from hell-where he belongs." + +Lingard took his cheroot out, and, with his mouth full of white smoke +that oozed out through his parted lips, listened, attentive. After a +short pause Almayer went on, looking at the floor moodily-- + +"I must say he looked awful. Had a bad bout of the ague probably. The +left shore is very unhealthy. Strange that only the breadth of the river +. . ." + +He dropped off into deep thoughtfulness as if he had forgotten his +grievances in a bitter meditation upon the unsanitary condition of the +virgin forests on the left bank. Lingard took this opportunity to expel +the smoke in a mighty expiration and threw the stump of his cheroot over +his shoulder. + +"Go on," he said, after a while. "He came to see you . . ." + +"But it wasn't unhealthy enough to finish him, worse luck!" went on +Almayer, rousing himself, "and, as I said, he turned up here with his +brazen impudence. He bullied me, he threatened vaguely. He wanted +to scare me, to blackmail me. Me! And, by heaven--he said you would +approve. You! Can you conceive such impudence? I couldn't exactly make +out what he was driving at. Had I known, I would have approved him. Yes! +With a bang on the head. But how could I guess that he knew enough to +pilot a ship through the entrance you always said was so difficult. And, +after all, that was the only danger. I could deal with anybody here--but +when Abdulla came. . . . That barque of his is armed. He carries twelve +brass six-pounders, and about thirty men. Desperate beggars. Sumatra +men, from Deli and Acheen. Fight all day and ask for more in the +evening. That kind." + +"I know, I know," said Lingard, impatiently. + +"Of course, then, they were cheeky as much as you please after he +anchored abreast of our jetty. Willems brought her up himself in +the best berth. I could see him from this verandah standing forward, +together with the half-caste master. And that woman was there too. Close +to him. I heard they took her on board off Lakamba's place. Willems said +he would not go higher without her. Stormed and raged. Frightened them, +I believe. Abdulla had to interfere. She came off alone in a canoe, and +no sooner on deck than she fell at his feet before all hands, embraced +his knees, wept, raved, begged his pardon. Why? I wonder. Everybody in +Sambir is talking of it. They never heard tell or saw anything like it. +I have all this from Ali, who goes about in the settlement and brings me +the news. I had better know what is going on--hadn't I? From what I +can make out, they--he and that woman--are looked upon as something +mysterious--beyond comprehension. Some think them mad. They live alone +with an old woman in a house outside Lakamba's campong and are greatly +respected--or feared, I should say rather. At least, he is. He is very +violent. She knows nobody, sees nobody, will speak to nobody but him. +Never leaves him for a moment. It's the talk of the place. There are +other rumours. From what I hear I suspect that Lakamba and Abdulla are +tired of him. There's also talk of him going away in the Lord of the +Isles--when she leaves here for the southward--as a kind of Abdulla's +agent. At any rate, he must take the ship out. The half-caste is not +equal to it as yet." + +Lingard, who had listened absorbed till then, began now to walk with +measured steps. Almayer ceased talking and followed him with his eyes as +he paced up and down with a quarter-deck swing, tormenting and twisting +his long white beard, his face perplexed and thoughtful. + +"So he came to you first of all, did he?" asked Lingard, without +stopping. + +"Yes. I told you so. He did come. Came to extort money, goods--I don't +know what else. Wanted to set up as a trader--the swine! I kicked his +hat into the courtyard, and he went after it, and that was the last of +him till he showed up with Abdulla. How could I know that he could do +harm in that way? Or in any way at that! Any local rising I could put +down easy with my own men and with Patalolo's help." + +"Oh! yes. Patalolo. No good. Eh? Did you try him at all?" + +"Didn't I!" exclaimed Almayer. "I went to see him myself on the twelfth. +That was four days before Abdulla entered the river. In fact, same day +Willems tried to get at me. I did feel a little uneasy then. Patalolo +assured me that there was no human being that did not love me in Sambir. +Looked as wise as an owl. Told me not to listen to the lies of wicked +people from down the river. He was alluding to that man Bulangi, who +lives up the sea reach, and who had sent me word that a strange ship was +anchored outside--which, of course, I repeated to Patalolo. He would not +believe. Kept on mumbling 'No! No! No!' like an old parrot, his head all +of a tremble, all beslobbered with betel-nut juice. I thought there was +something queer about him. Seemed so restless, and as if in a hurry to +get rid of me. Well. Next day that one-eyed malefactor who lives with +Lakamba--what's his name--Babalatchi, put in an appearance here! Came +about mid-day, casually like, and stood there on this verandah chatting +about one thing and another. Asking when I expected you, and so on. +Then, incidentally, he mentioned that they--his master and himself--were +very much bothered by a ferocious white man--my friend--who was hanging +about that woman--Omar's daughter. Asked my advice. Very deferential and +proper. I told him the white man was not my friend, and that they had +better kick him out. Whereupon he went away salaaming, and protesting +his friendship and his master's goodwill. Of course I know now the +infernal nigger came to spy and to talk over some of my men. Anyway, +eight were missing at the evening muster. Then I took alarm. Did not +dare to leave my house unguarded. You know what my wife is, don't you? +And I did not care to take the child with me--it being late--so I sent +a message to Patalolo to say that we ought to consult; that there were +rumours and uneasiness in the settlement. Do you know what answer I +got?" + +Lingard stopped short in his walk before Almayer, who went on, after an +impressive pause, with growing animation. + +"All brought it: 'The Rajah sends a friend's greeting, and does not +understand the message.' That was all. Not a word more could Ali get +out of him. I could see that Ali was pretty well scared. He hung about, +arranging my hammock--one thing and another. Then just before going +away he mentioned that the water-gate of the Rajah's place was heavily +barred, but that he could see only very few men about the courtyard. +Finally he said, 'There is darkness in our Rajah's house, but no sleep. +Only darkness and fear and the wailing of women.' Cheerful, wasn't it? +It made me feel cold down my back somehow. After Ali slipped away I +stood here--by this table, and listened to the shouting and drumming in +the settlement. Racket enough for twenty weddings. It was a little past +midnight then." + +Again Almayer stopped in his narrative with an abrupt shutting of lips, +as if he had said all that there was to tell, and Lingard stood staring +at him, pensive and silent. A big bluebottle fly flew in recklessly into +the cool verandah, and darted with loud buzzing between the two men. +Lingard struck at it with his hat. The fly swerved, and Almayer dodged +his head out of the way. Then Lingard aimed another ineffectual blow; +Almayer jumped up and waved his arms about. The fly buzzed desperately, +and the vibration of minute wings sounded in the peace of the early +morning like a far-off string orchestra accompanying the hollow, +determined stamping of the two men, who, with heads thrown back and +arms gyrating on high, or again bending low with infuriated lunges, were +intent upon killing the intruder. But suddenly the buzz died out in a +thin thrill away in the open space of the courtyard, leaving Lingard +and Almayer standing face to face in the fresh silence of the young day, +looking very puzzled and idle, their arms hanging uselessly by their +sides--like men disheartened by some portentous failure. + +"Look at that!" muttered Lingard. "Got away after all." + +"Nuisance," said Almayer in the same tone. "Riverside is overrun with +them. This house is badly placed . . . mosquitos . . . and these big +flies . . . . last week stung Nina . . . been ill four days . . . poor +child. . . . I wonder what such damned things are made for!" + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +After a long silence, during which Almayer had moved towards the table +and sat down, his head between his hands, staring straight before him, +Lingard, who had recommenced walking, cleared his throat and said-- + +"What was it you were saying?" + +"Ah! Yes! You should have seen this settlement that night. I don't think +anybody went to bed. I walked down to the point, and could see them. +They had a big bonfire in the palm grove, and the talk went on there +till the morning. When I came back here and sat in the dark verandah in +this quiet house I felt so frightfully lonely that I stole in and took +the child out of her cot and brought her here into my hammock. If it +hadn't been for her I am sure I would have gone mad; I felt so utterly +alone and helpless. Remember, I hadn't heard from you for four months. +Didn't know whether you were alive or dead. Patalolo would have nothing +to do with me. My own men were deserting me like rats do a sinking hulk. +That was a black night for me, Captain Lingard. A black night as I sat +here not knowing what would happen next. They were so excited and rowdy +that I really feared they would come and burn the house over my head. +I went and brought my revolver. Laid it loaded on the table. There were +such awful yells now and then. Luckily the child slept through it, and +seeing her so pretty and peaceful steadied me somehow. Couldn't believe +there was any violence in this world, looking at her lying so quiet and +so unconscious of what went on. But it was very hard. Everything was at +an end. You must understand that on that night there was no government +in Sambir. Nothing to restrain those fellows. Patalolo had collapsed. I +was abandoned by my own people, and all that lot could vent their spite +on me if they wanted. They know no gratitude. How many times haven't I +saved this settlement from starvation? Absolute starvation. Only three +months ago I distributed again a lot of rice on credit. There was +nothing to eat in this infernal place. They came begging on their +knees. There isn't a man in Sambir, big or little, who is not in debt to +Lingard & Co. Not one. You ought to be satisfied. You always said +that was the right policy for us. Well, I carried it out. Ah! Captain +Lingard, a policy like that should be backed by loaded rifles . . ." + +"You had them!" exclaimed Lingard in the midst of his promenade, that +went on more rapid as Almayer talked: the headlong tramp of a man +hurrying on to do something violent. The verandah was full of dust, +oppressive and choking, which rose under the old seaman's feet, and made +Almayer cough again and again. + +"Yes, I had! Twenty. And not a finger to pull a trigger. It's easy to +talk," he spluttered, his face very red. + +Lingard dropped into a chair, and leaned back with one hand stretched +out at length upon the table, the other thrown over the back of his +seat. The dust settled, and the sun surging above the forest flooded +the verandah with a clear light. Almayer got up and busied himself in +lowering the split rattan screens that hung between the columns of the +verandah. + +"Phew!" said Lingard, "it will be a hot day. That's right, my boy. Keep +the sun out. We don't want to be roasted alive here." + +Almayer came back, sat down, and spoke very calmly-- + +"In the morning I went across to see Patalolo. I took the child with me, +of course. I found the water-gate barred, and had to walk round through +the bushes. Patalolo received me lying on the floor, in the dark, all +the shutters closed. I could get nothing out of him but lamentations +and groans. He said you must be dead. That Lakamba was coming now with +Abdulla's guns to kill everybody. Said he did not mind being killed, +as he was an old man, but that the wish of his heart was to make a +pilgrimage. He was tired of men's ingratitude--he had no heirs--he +wanted to go to Mecca and die there. He would ask Abdulla to let him go. +Then he abused Lakamba--between sobs--and you, a little. You prevented +him from asking for a flag that would have been respected--he was right +there--and now when his enemies were strong he was weak, and you were +not there to help him. When I tried to put some heart into him, telling +him he had four big guns--you know the brass six-pounders you left here +last year--and that I would get powder, and that, perhaps, together we +could make head against Lakamba, he simply howled at me. No matter which +way he turned--he shrieked--the white men would be the death of him, +while he wanted only to be a pilgrim and be at peace. My belief is," +added Almayer, after a short pause, and fixing a dull stare upon +Lingard, "that the old fool saw this thing coming for a long time, and +was not only too frightened to do anything himself, but actually +too scared to let you or me know of his suspicions. Another of your +particular pets! Well! You have a lucky hand, I must say!" + +Lingard struck a sudden blow on the table with his clenched hand. There +was a sharp crack of splitting wood. Almayer started up violently, then +fell back in his chair and looked at the table. + +"There!" he said, moodily, "you don't know your own strength. This table +is completely ruined. The only table I had been able to save from +my wife. By and by I will have to eat squatting on the floor like a +native." + +Lingard laughed heartily. "Well then, don't nag at me like a woman at a +drunken husband!" He became very serious after awhile, and added, "If +it hadn't been for the loss of the Flash I would have been here three +months ago, and all would have been well. No use crying over that. Don't +you be uneasy, Kaspar. We will have everything ship-shape here in a very +short time." + +"What? You don't mean to expel Abdulla out of here by force! I tell you, +you can't." + +"Not I!" exclaimed Lingard. "That's all over, I am afraid. Great pity. +They will suffer for it. He will squeeze them. Great pity. Damn it! I +feel so sorry for them if I had the Flash here I would try force. Eh! +Why not? However, the poor Flash is gone, and there is an end of it. +Poor old hooker. Hey, Almayer? You made a voyage or two with me. Wasn't +she a sweet craft? Could make her do anything but talk. She was better +than a wife to me. Never scolded. Hey? . . . And to think that it should +come to this. That I should leave her poor old bones sticking on a reef +as though I had been a damned fool of a southern-going man who must have +half a mile of water under his keel to be safe! Well! well! It's only +those who do nothing that make no mistakes, I suppose. But it's hard. +Hard." + +He nodded sadly, with his eyes on the ground. Almayer looked at him with +growing indignation. + +"Upon my word, you are heartless," he burst out; "perfectly +heartless--and selfish. It does not seem to strike you--in all +that--that in losing your ship--by your recklessness, I am sure--you +ruin me--us, and my little Nina. What's going to become of me and of +her? That's what I want to know. You brought me here, made me your +partner, and now, when everything is gone to the devil--through your +fault, mind you--you talk about your ship . . . ship! You can get +another. But here. This trade. That's gone now, thanks to Willems. . . . +Your dear Willems!" + +"Never you mind about Willems. I will look after him," said Lingard, +severely. "And as to the trade . . . I will make your fortune yet, my +boy. Never fear. Have you got any cargo for the schooner that brought me +here?" + +"The shed is full of rattans," answered Almayer, "and I have about +eighty tons of guttah in the well. The last lot I ever will have, no +doubt," he added, bitterly. + +"So, after all, there was no robbery. You've lost nothing actually. +Well, then, you must . . . Hallo! What's the matter! . . . Here! . . ." + +"Robbery! No!" screamed Almayer, throwing up his hands. + +He fell back in the chair and his face became purple. A little white +foam appeared on his lips and trickled down his chin, while he lay back, +showing the whites of his upturned eyes. When he came to himself he saw +Lingard standing over him, with an empty water-chatty in his hand. + +"You had a fit of some kind," said the old seaman with much concern. +"What is it? You did give me a fright. So very sudden." + +Almayer, his hair all wet and stuck to his head, as if he had been +diving, sat up and gasped. + +"Outrage! A fiendish outrage. I . . ." + +Lingard put the chatty on the table and looked at him in attentive +silence. Almayer passed his hand over his forehead and went on in an +unsteady tone: + +"When I remember that, I lose all control," he said. "I told you he +anchored Abdulla's ship abreast our jetty, but over to the other shore, +near the Rajah's place. The ship was surrounded with boats. From here it +looked as if she had been landed on a raft. Every dugout in Sambir was +there. Through my glass I could distinguish the faces of people on the +poop--Abdulla, Willems, Lakamba--everybody. That old cringing scoundrel +Sahamin was there. I could see quite plain. There seemed to be much talk +and discussion. Finally I saw a ship's boat lowered. Some Arab got into +her, and the boat went towards Patalolo's landing-place. It seems +they had been refused admittance--so they say. I think myself that +the water-gate was not unbarred quick enough to please the exalted +messenger. At any rate I saw the boat come back almost directly. I +was looking on, rather interested, when I saw Willems and some more go +forward--very busy about something there. That woman was also amongst +them. Ah, that woman . . ." + +Almayer choked, and seemed on the point of having a relapse, but by a +violent effort regained a comparative composure. + +"All of a sudden," he continued--"bang! They fired a shot into +Patalolo's gate, and before I had time to catch my breath--I was +startled, you may believe--they sent another and burst the gate open. +Whereupon, I suppose, they thought they had done enough for a while, and +probably felt hungry, for a feast began aft. Abdulla sat amongst +them like an idol, cross-legged, his hands on his lap. He's too great +altogether to eat when others do, but he presided, you see. Willems kept +on dodging about forward, aloof from the crowd, and looking at my house +through the ship's long glass. I could not resist it. I shook my fist at +him." + +"Just so," said Lingard, gravely. "That was the thing to do, of course. +If you can't fight a man the best thing is to exasperate him." + +Almayer waved his hand in a superior manner, and continued, unmoved: +"You may say what you like. You can't realize my feelings. He saw me, +and, with his eye still at the small end of the glass, lifted his arm +as if answering a hail. I thought my turn to be shot at would come next +after Patalolo, so I ran up the Union Jack to the flagstaff in the yard. +I had no other protection. There were only three men besides Ali that +stuck to me--three cripples, for that matter, too sick to get away. I +would have fought singlehanded, I think, I was that angry, but there was +the child. What to do with her? Couldn't send her up the river with the +mother. You know I can't trust my wife. I decided to keep very quiet, +but to let nobody land on our shore. Private property, that; under a +deed from Patalolo. I was within my right--wasn't I? The morning was +very quiet. After they had a feed on board the barque with Abdulla most +of them went home; only the big people remained. Towards three o'clock +Sahamin crossed alone in a small canoe. I went down on our wharf with +my gun to speak to him, but didn't let him land. The old hypocrite said +Abdulla sent greetings and wished to talk with me on business; would I +come on board? I said no; I would not. Told him that Abdulla may write +and I would answer, but no interview, neither on board his ship nor on +shore. I also said that if anybody attempted to land within my fences +I would shoot--no matter whom. On that he lifted his hands to heaven, +scandalized, and then paddled away pretty smartly--to report, I suppose. +An hour or so afterwards I saw Willems land a boat party at the Rajah's. +It was very quiet. Not a shot was fired, and there was hardly any +shouting. They tumbled those brass guns you presented to Patalolo last +year down the bank into the river. It's deep there close to. The channel +runs that way, you know. About five, Willems went back on board, and +I saw him join Abdulla by the wheel aft. He talked a lot, swinging his +arms about--seemed to explain things--pointed at my house, then down the +reach. Finally, just before sunset, they hove upon the cable and dredged +the ship down nearly half a mile to the junction of the two branches of +the river--where she is now, as you might have seen." + +Lingard nodded. + +"That evening, after dark--I was informed--Abdulla landed for the first +time in Sambir. He was entertained in Sahamin's house. I sent Ali to the +settlement for news. He returned about nine, and reported that Patalolo +was sitting on Abdulla's left hand before Sahamin's fire. There was a +great council. Ali seemed to think that Patalolo was a prisoner, but +he was wrong there. They did the trick very neatly. Before midnight +everything was arranged as I can make out. Patalolo went back to his +demolished stockade, escorted by a dozen boats with torches. It appears +he begged Abdulla to let him have a passage in the Lord of the Isles to +Penang. From there he would go to Mecca. The firing business was alluded +to as a mistake. No doubt it was in a sense. Patalolo never meant +resisting. So he is going as soon as the ship is ready for sea. He went +on board next day with three women and half a dozen fellows as old as +himself. By Abdulla's orders he was received with a salute of seven +guns, and he has been living on board ever since--five weeks. I doubt +whether he will leave the river alive. At any rate he won't live to +reach Penang. Lakamba took over all his goods, and gave him a draft on +Abdulla's house payable in Penang. He is bound to die before he gets +there. Don't you see?" + +He sat silent for a while in dejected meditation, then went on: + +"Of course there were several rows during the night. Various fellows +took the opportunity of the unsettled state of affairs to pay off old +scores and settle old grudges. I passed the night in that chair there, +dozing uneasily. Now and then there would be a great tumult and yelling +which would make me sit up, revolver in hand. However, nobody was +killed. A few broken heads--that's all. Early in the morning Willems +caused them to make a fresh move which I must say surprised me not a +little. As soon as there was daylight they busied themselves in setting +up a flag-pole on the space at the other end of the settlement, where +Abdulla is having his houses built now. Shortly after sunrise there was +a great gathering at the flag-pole. All went there. Willems was standing +leaning against the mast, one arm over that woman's shoulders. They had +brought an armchair for Patalolo, and Lakamba stood on the right hand +of the old man, who made a speech. Everybody in Sambir was there: women, +slaves, children--everybody! Then Patalolo spoke. He said that by the +mercy of the Most High he was going on a pilgrimage. The dearest wish +of his heart was to be accomplished. Then, turning to Lakamba, he begged +him to rule justly during his--Patalolo's--absence There was a bit +of play-acting there. Lakamba said he was unworthy of the honourable +burden, and Patalolo insisted. Poor old fool! It must have been bitter +to him. They made him actually entreat that scoundrel. Fancy a man +compelled to beg of a robber to despoil him! But the old Rajah was +so frightened. Anyway, he did it, and Lakamba accepted at last. Then +Willems made a speech to the crowd. Said that on his way to the west the +Rajah--he meant Patalolo--would see the Great White Ruler in Batavia +and obtain his protection for Sambir. Meantime, he went on, I, an Orang +Blanda and your friend, hoist the flag under the shadow of which there +is safety. With that he ran up a Dutch flag to the mast-head. It was +made hurriedly, during the night, of cotton stuffs, and, being heavy, +hung down the mast, while the crowd stared. Ali told me there was a +great sigh of surprise, but not a word was spoken till Lakamba advanced +and proclaimed in a loud voice that during all that day every one +passing by the flagstaff must uncover his head and salaam before the +emblem." + +"But, hang it all!" exclaimed Lingard--"Abdulla is British!" + +"Abdulla wasn't there at all--did not go on shore that day. Yet Ali, who +has his wits about him, noticed that the space where the crowd stood +was under the guns of the Lord of the Isles. They had put a coir warp +ashore, and gave the barque a cant in the current, so as to bring the +broadside to bear on the flagstaff. Clever! Eh? But nobody dreamt of +resistance. When they recovered from the surprise there was a little +quiet jeering; and Bahassoen abused Lakamba violently till one of +Lakamba's men hit him on the head with a staff. Frightful crack, I +am told. Then they left off jeering. Meantime Patalolo went away, and +Lakamba sat in the chair at the foot of the flagstaff, while the crowd +surged around, as if they could not make up their minds to go. Suddenly +there was a great noise behind Lakamba's chair. It was that woman, who +went for Willems. Ali says she was like a wild beast, but he twisted her +wrist and made her grovel in the dust. Nobody knows exactly what it was +about. Some say it was about that flag. He carried her off, flung her +into a canoe, and went on board Abdulla's ship. After that Sahamin +was the first to salaam to the flag. Others followed suit. Before noon +everything was quiet in the settlement, and Ali came back and told me +all this." + +Almayer drew a long breath. Lingard stretched out his legs. + +"Go on!" he said. + +Almayer seemed to struggle with himself. At last he spluttered out: + +"The hardest is to tell yet. The most unheard-of thing! An outrage! A +fiendish outrage!" + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +"Well! Let's know all about it. I can't imagine . . ." began Lingard, +after waiting for some time in silence. + +"Can't imagine! I should think you couldn't," interrupted Almayer. "Why! +. . . You just listen. When Ali came back I felt a little easier in my +mind. There was then some semblance of order in Sambir. I had the Jack +up since the morning and began to feel safer. Some of my men turned up +in the afternoon. I did not ask any questions; set them to work as if +nothing had happened. Towards the evening--it might have been five or +half-past--I was on our jetty with the child when I heard shouts at the +far-off end of the settlement. At first I didn't take much notice. By +and by Ali came to me and says, 'Master, give me the child, there is +much trouble in the settlement.' So I gave him Nina and went in, took +my revolver, and passed through the house into the back courtyard. As +I came down the steps I saw all the serving girls clear out from the +cooking shed, and I heard a big crowd howling on the other side of +the dry ditch which is the limit of our ground. Could not see them on +account of the fringe of bushes along the ditch, but I knew that crowd +was angry and after somebody. As I stood wondering, that Jim-Eng--you +know the Chinaman who settled here a couple of years ago?" + +"He was my passenger; I brought him here," exclaimed Lingard. "A +first-class Chinaman that." + +"Did you? I had forgotten. Well, that Jim-Eng, he burst through the bush +and fell into my arms, so to speak. He told me, panting, that they were +after him because he wouldn't take off his hat to the flag. He was not +so much scared, but he was very angry and indignant. Of course he had to +run for it; there were some fifty men after him--Lakamba's friends--but +he was full of fight. Said he was an Englishman, and would not take off +his hat to any flag but English. I tried to soothe him while the crowd +was shouting on the other side of the ditch. I told him he must take one +of my canoes and cross the river. Stop on the other side for a couple of +days. He wouldn't. Not he. He was English, and he would fight the whole +lot. Says he: 'They are only black fellows. We white men,' meaning me +and himself, 'can fight everybody in Sambir.' He was mad with passion. +The crowd quieted a little, and I thought I could shelter Jim-Eng +without much risk, when all of a sudden I heard Willems' voice. He +shouted to me in English: 'Let four men enter your compound to get that +Chinaman!' I said nothing. Told Jim-Eng to keep quiet too. Then after +a while Willems shouts again: 'Don't resist, Almayer. I give you good +advice. I am keeping this crowd back. Don't resist them!' That beggar's +voice enraged me; I could not help it. I cried to him: 'You are a liar!' +and just then Jim-Eng, who had flung off his jacket and had tucked up +his trousers ready for a fight; just then that fellow he snatches the +revolver out of my hand and lets fly at them through the bush. There was +a sharp cry--he must have hit somebody--and a great yell, and before I +could wink twice they were over the ditch and through the bush and on +top of us! Simply rolled over us! There wasn't the slightest chance to +resist. I was trampled under foot, Jim-Eng got a dozen gashes about his +body, and we were carried halfway up the yard in the first rush. My eyes +and mouth were full of dust; I was on my back with three or four fellows +sitting on me. I could hear Jim-Eng trying to shout not very far from +me. Now and then they would throttle him and he would gurgle. I could +hardly breathe myself with two heavy fellows on my chest. Willems came +up running and ordered them to raise me up, but to keep good hold. They +led me into the verandah. I looked round, but did not see either Ali or +the child. Felt easier. Struggled a little. . . . Oh, my God!" + +Almayer's face was distorted with a passing spasm of rage. Lingard moved +in his chair slightly. Almayer went on after a short pause: + +"They held me, shouting threats in my face. Willems took down my hammock +and threw it to them. He pulled out the drawer of this table, and found +there a palm and needle and some sail-twine. We were making awnings for +your brig, as you had asked me last voyage before you left. He knew, of +course, where to look for what he wanted. By his orders they laid me out +on the floor, wrapped me in my hammock, and he started to stitch me in, +as if I had been a corpse, beginning at the feet. While he worked he +laughed wickedly. I called him all the names I could think of. He +told them to put their dirty paws over my mouth and nose. I was nearly +choked. Whenever I moved they punched me in the ribs. He went on taking +fresh needlefuls as he wanted them, and working steadily. Sewed me up to +my throat. Then he rose, saying, 'That will do; let go.' That woman had +been standing by; they must have been reconciled. She clapped her hands. +I lay on the floor like a bale of goods while he stared at me, and the +woman shrieked with delight. Like a bale of goods! There was a grin on +every face, and the verandah was full of them. I wished myself +dead--'pon my word, Captain Lingard, I did! I do now whenever I think +of it!" + +Lingard's face expressed sympathetic indignation. Almayer dropped +his head upon his arms on the table, and spoke in that position in an +indistinct and muffled voice, without looking up. + +"Finally, by his directions, they flung me into the big rocking-chair. +I was sewed in so tight that I was stiff like a piece of wood. He was +giving orders in a very loud voice, and that man Babalatchi saw that +they were executed. They obeyed him implicitly. Meantime I lay there in +the chair like a log, and that woman capered before me and made faces; +snapped her fingers before my nose. Women are bad!--ain't they? I never +saw her before, as far as I know. Never done anything to her. Yet she +was perfectly fiendish. Can you understand it? Now and then she would +leave me alone to hang round his neck for awhile, and then she would +return before my chair and begin her exercises again. He looked on, +indulgent. The perspiration ran down my face, got into my eyes--my arms +were sewn in. I was blinded half the time; at times I could see better. +She drags him before my chair. 'I am like white women,' she says, her +arms round his neck. You should have seen the faces of the fellows in +the verandah! They were scandalized and ashamed of themselves to see her +behaviour. Suddenly she asks him, alluding to me: 'When are you going +to kill him?' Imagine how I felt. I must have swooned; I don't remember +exactly. I fancy there was a row; he was angry. When I got my wits again +he was sitting close to me, and she was gone. I understood he sent her +to my wife, who was hiding in the back room and never came out during +this affair. Willems says to me--I fancy I can hear his voice, hoarse +and dull--he says to me: 'Not a hair of your head shall be touched.' I +made no sound. Then he goes on: 'Please remark that the flag you have +hoisted--which, by the by, is not yours--has been respected. Tell +Captain Lingard so when you do see him. But,' he says, 'you first fired +at the crowd.' 'You are a liar, you blackguard!' I shouted. He winced, I +am sure. It hurt him to see I was not frightened. 'Anyways,' he says, 'a +shot had been fired out of your compound and a man was hit. Still, all +your property shall be respected on account of the Union Jack. Moreover, +I have no quarrel with Captain Lingard, who is the senior partner in +this business. As to you,' he continued, 'you will not forget this +day--not if you live to be a hundred years old--or I don't know your +nature. You will keep the bitter taste of this humiliation to the last +day of your life, and so your kindness to me shall be repaid. I shall +remove all the powder you have. This coast is under the protection of +the Netherlands, and you have no right to have any powder. There are the +Governor's Orders in Council to that effect, and you know it. Tell me +where the key of the small storehouse is?' I said not a word, and he +waited a little, then rose, saying: 'It's your own fault if there is any +damage done.' He ordered Babalatchi to have the lock of the office-room +forced, and went in--rummaged amongst my drawers--could not find the +key. Then that woman Aissa asked my wife, and she gave them the key. +After awhile they tumbled every barrel into the river. Eighty-three +hundredweight! He superintended himself, and saw every barrel roll into +the water. There were mutterings. Babalatchi was angry and tried to +expostulate, but he gave him a good shaking. I must say he was perfectly +fearless with those fellows. Then he came back to the verandah, sat down +by me again, and says: 'We found your man Ali with your little daughter +hiding in the bushes up the river. We brought them in. They are +perfectly safe, of course. Let me congratulate you, Almayer, upon the +cleverness of your child. She recognized me at once, and cried "pig" +as naturally as you would yourself. Circumstances alter feelings. You +should have seen how frightened your man Ali was. Clapped his hands over +her mouth. I think you spoil her, Almayer. But I am not angry. Really, +you look so ridiculous in this chair that I can't feel angry.' I made +a frantic effort to burst out of my hammock to get at that scoundrel's +throat, but I only fell off and upset the chair over myself. He laughed +and said only: 'I leave you half of your revolver cartridges and take +half myself; they will fit mine. We are both white men, and should back +each other up. I may want them.' I shouted at him from under the chair: +'You are a thief,' but he never looked, and went away, one hand round +that woman's waist, the other on Babalatchi's shoulder, to whom he was +talking--laying down the law about something or other. In less than five +minutes there was nobody inside our fences. After awhile Ali came to +look for me and cut me free. I haven't seen Willems since--nor anybody +else for that matter. I have been left alone. I offered sixty dollars to +the man who had been wounded, which were accepted. They released Jim-Eng +the next day, when the flag had been hauled down. He sent six cases of +opium to me for safe keeping but has not left his house. I think he is +safe enough now. Everything is very quiet." + +Towards the end of his narrative Almayer lifted his head off the table, +and now sat back in his chair and stared at the bamboo rafters of the +roof above him. Lingard lolled in his seat with his legs stretched out. +In the peaceful gloom of the verandah, with its lowered screens, they +heard faint noises from the world outside in the blazing sunshine: a +hail on the river, the answer from the shore, the creak of a pulley; +sounds short, interrupted, as if lost suddenly in the brilliance of +noonday. Lingard got up slowly, walked to the front rail, and holding +one of the screens aside, looked out in silence. Over the water and the +empty courtyard came a distinct voice from a small schooner anchored +abreast of the Lingard jetty. + +"Serang! Take a pull at the main peak halyards. This gaff is down on the +boom." + +There was a shrill pipe dying in long-drawn cadence, the song of the men +swinging on the rope. The voice said sharply: "That will do!" Another +voice--the serang's probably--shouted: "Ikat!" and as Lingard dropped +the blind and turned away all was silent again, as if there had been +nothing on the other side of the swaying screen; nothing but the light, +brilliant, crude, heavy, lying on a dead land like a pall of fire. +Lingard sat down again, facing Almayer, his elbow on the table, in a +thoughtful attitude. + +"Nice little schooner," muttered Almayer, wearily. "Did you buy her?" + +"No," answered Lingard. "After I lost the Flash we got to Palembang in +our boats. I chartered her there, for six months. From young Ford, you +know. Belongs to him. He wanted a spell ashore, so I took charge myself. +Of course all Ford's people on board. Strangers to me. I had to go to +Singapore about the insurance; then I went to Macassar, of course. Had +long passages. No wind. It was like a curse on me. I had lots of trouble +with old Hudig. That delayed me much." + +"Ah! Hudig! Why with Hudig?" asked Almayer, in a perfunctory manner. + +"Oh! about a . . . a woman," mumbled Lingard. + +Almayer looked at him with languid surprise. The old seaman had twisted +his white beard into a point, and now was busy giving his moustaches a +fierce curl. His little red eyes--those eyes that had smarted under the +salt sprays of every sea, that had looked unwinking to windward in the +gales of all latitudes--now glared at Almayer from behind the lowered +eyebrows like a pair of frightened wild beasts crouching in a bush. + +"Extraordinary! So like you! What can you have to do with Hudig's women? +The old sinner!" said Almayer, negligently. + +"What are you talking about! Wife of a friend of . . . I mean of a man I +know . . ." + +"Still, I don't see . . ." interjected Almayer carelessly. + +"Of a man you know too. Well. Very well." + +"I knew so many men before you made me bury myself in this hole!" +growled Almayer, unamiably. "If she had anything to do with Hudig--that +wife--then she can't be up to much. I would be sorry for the man," +added Almayer, brightening up with the recollection of the scandalous +tittle-tattle of the past, when he was a young man in the second capital +of the Islands--and so well informed, so well informed. He laughed. +Lingard's frown deepened. + +"Don't talk foolish! It's Willems' wife." + +Almayer grasped the sides of his seat, his eyes and mouth opened wide. + +"What? Why!" he exclaimed, bewildered. + +"Willems'--wife," repeated Lingard distinctly. "You ain't deaf, are you? +The wife of Willems. Just so. As to why! There was a promise. And I did +not know what had happened here." + +"What is it. You've been giving her money, I bet," cried Almayer. + +"Well, no!" said Lingard, deliberately. "Although I suppose I shall have +to . . ." + +Almayer groaned. + +"The fact is," went on Lingard, speaking slowly and steadily, "the fact +is that I have . . . I have brought her here. Here. To Sambir." + +"In heaven's name! why?" shouted Almayer, jumping up. The chair tilted +and fell slowly over. He raised his clasped hands above his head and +brought them down jerkily, separating his fingers with an effort, as if +tearing them apart. Lingard nodded, quickly, several times. + +"I have. Awkward. Hey?" he said, with a puzzled look upwards. + +"Upon my word," said Almayer, tearfully. "I can't understand you at all. +What will you do next! Willems' wife!" + +"Wife and child. Small boy, you know. They are on board the schooner." + +Almayer looked at Lingard with sudden suspicion, then turning away +busied himself in picking up the chair, sat down in it turning his back +upon the old seaman, and tried to whistle, but gave it up directly. +Lingard went on-- + +"Fact is, the fellow got into trouble with Hudig. Worked upon my +feelings. I promised to arrange matters. I did. With much trouble. Hudig +was angry with her for wishing to join her husband. Unprincipled old +fellow. You know she is his daughter. Well, I said I would see her +through it all right; help Willems to a fresh start and so on. I spoke +to Craig in Palembang. He is getting on in years, and wanted a manager +or partner. I promised to guarantee Willems' good behaviour. We settled +all that. Craig is an old crony of mine. Been shipmates in the forties. +He's waiting for him now. A pretty mess! What do you think?" + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + +"That woman broke with Hudig on my assurance that all would be well," +went on Lingard, with growing dismay. "She did. Proper thing, of course. +Wife, husband . . . together . . . as it should be . . . Smart fellow +. . . Impossible scoundrel . . . Jolly old go! Oh! damn!" + +Almayer laughed spitefully. + +"How delighted he will be," he said, softly. "You will make two people +happy. Two at least!" He laughed again, while Lingard looked at his +shaking shoulders in consternation. + +"I am jammed on a lee shore this time, if ever I was," muttered Lingard. + +"Send her back quick," suggested Almayer, stifling another laugh. + +"What are you sniggering at?" growled Lingard, angrily. "I'll work it +out all clear yet. Meantime you must receive her into this house." + +"My house!" cried Almayer, turning round. + +"It's mine too--a little isn't it?" said Lingard. "Don't argue," +he shouted, as Almayer opened his mouth. "Obey orders and hold your +tongue!" + +"Oh! If you take it in that tone!" mumbled Almayer, sulkily, with a +gesture of assent. + +"You are so aggravating too, my boy," said the old seaman, with +unexpected placidity. "You must give me time to turn round. I can't keep +her on board all the time. I must tell her something. Say, for instance, +that he is gone up the river. Expected back every day. That's it. D'ye +hear? You must put her on that tack and dodge her along easy, while I +take the kinks out of the situation. By God!" he exclaimed, mournfully, +after a short pause, "life is foul! Foul like a lee forebrace on a dirty +night. And yet. And yet. One must see it clear for running before going +below--for good. Now you attend to what I said," he added, sharply, "if +you don't want to quarrel with me, my boy." + +"I don't want to quarrel with you," murmured Almayer with unwilling +deference. "Only I wish I could understand you. I know you are my +best friend, Captain Lingard; only, upon my word, I can't make you out +sometimes! I wish I could . . ." + +Lingard burst into a loud laugh which ended shortly in a deep sigh. He +closed his eyes, tilting his head over the back of his armchair; and on +his face, baked by the unclouded suns of many hard years, there appeared +for a moment a weariness and a look of age which startled Almayer, like +an unexpected disclosure of evil. + +"I am done up," said Lingard, gently. "Perfectly done up. All night on +deck getting that schooner up the river. Then talking with you. Seems to +me I could go to sleep on a clothes-line. I should like to eat something +though. Just see about that, Kaspar." + +Almayer clapped his hands, and receiving no response was going to call, +when in the central passage of the house, behind the red curtain of the +doorway opening upon the verandah, they heard a child's imperious voice +speaking shrilly. + +"Take me up at once. I want to be carried into the verandah. I shall be +very angry. Take me up." + +A man's voice answered, subdued, in humble remonstrance. The faces of +Almayer and Lingard brightened at once. The old seaman called out-- + +"Bring the child. Lekas!" + +"You will see how she has grown," exclaimed Almayer, in a jubilant tone. + +Through the curtained doorway Ali appeared with little Nina Almayer in +his arms. The child had one arm round his neck, and with the other she +hugged a ripe pumelo nearly as big as her own head. Her little pink, +sleeveless robe had half slipped off her shoulders, but the long black +hair, that framed her olive face, in which the big black eyes looked out +in childish solemnity, fell in luxuriant profusion over her shoulders, +all round her and over Ali's arms, like a close-meshed and delicate net +of silken threads. Lingard got up to meet Ali, and as soon as she caught +sight of the old seaman she dropped the fruit and put out both her hands +with a cry of delight. He took her from the Malay, and she laid hold of +his moustaches with an affectionate goodwill that brought unaccustomed +tears into his little red eyes. + +"Not so hard, little one, not so hard," he murmured, pressing with an +enormous hand, that covered it entirely, the child's head to his face. + +"Pick up my pumelo, O Rajah of the sea!" she said, speaking in a +high-pitched, clear voice with great volubility. "There, under the +table. I want it quick! Quick! You have been away fighting with many +men. Ali says so. You are a mighty fighter. Ali says so. On the great +sea far away, away, away." + +She waved her hand, staring with dreamy vacancy, while Lingard looked at +her, and squatting down groped under the table after the pumelo. + +"Where does she get those notions?" said Lingard, getting up cautiously, +to Almayer, who had been giving orders to Ali. + +"She is always with the men. Many a time I've found her with her fingers +in their rice dish, of an evening. She does not care for her mother +though--I am glad to say. How pretty she is--and so sharp. My very +image!" + +Lingard had put the child on the table, and both men stood looking at +her with radiant faces. + +"A perfect little woman," whispered Lingard. "Yes, my dear boy, we shall +make her somebody. You'll see!" + +"Very little chance of that now," remarked Almayer, sadly. + +"You do not know!" exclaimed Lingard, taking up the child again, +and beginning to walk up and down the verandah. "I have my plans. I +have--listen." + +And he began to explain to the interested Almayer his plans for the +future. He would interview Abdulla and Lakamba. There must be some +understanding with those fellows now they had the upper hand. Here +he interrupted himself to swear freely, while the child, who had been +diligently fumbling about his neck, had found his whistle and blew a +loud blast now and then close to his ear--which made him wince and laugh +as he put her hands down, scolding her lovingly. Yes--that would be +easily settled. He was a man to be reckoned with yet. Nobody knew that +better than Almayer. Very well. Then he must patiently try and keep some +little trade together. It would be all right. But the great thing--and +here Lingard spoke lower, bringing himself to a sudden standstill before +the entranced Almayer--the great thing would be the gold hunt up the +river. He--Lingard--would devote himself to it. He had been in the +interior before. There were immense deposits of alluvial gold there. +Fabulous. He felt sure. Had seen places. Dangerous work? Of course! But +what a reward! He would explore--and find. Not a shadow of doubt. Hang +the danger! They would first get as much as they could for themselves. +Keep the thing quiet. Then after a time form a Company. In Batavia or +in England. Yes, in England. Much better. Splendid! Why, of course. And +that baby would be the richest woman in the world. He--Lingard--would +not, perhaps, see it--although he felt good for many years yet--but +Almayer would. Here was something to live for yet! Hey? + +But the richest woman in the world had been for the last five minutes +shouting shrilly--"Rajah Laut! Rajah Laut! Hai! Give ear!" while the old +seaman had been speaking louder, unconsciously, to make his deep bass +heard above the impatient clamour. He stopped now and said tenderly-- + +"What is it, little woman?" + +"I am not a little woman. I am a white child. Anak Putih. A white child; +and the white men are my brothers. Father says so. And Ali says so too. +Ali knows as much as father. Everything." + +Almayer almost danced with paternal delight. + +"I taught her. I taught her," he repeated, laughing with tears in his +eyes. "Isn't she sharp?" + +"I am the slave of the white child," said Lingard, with playful +solemnity. "What is the order?" + +"I want a house," she warbled, with great eagerness. "I want a house, +and another house on the roof, and another on the roof--high. High! +Like the places where they dwell--my brothers--in the land where the sun +sleeps." + +"To the westward," explained Almayer, under his breath. "She remembers +everything. She wants you to build a house of cards. You did, last time +you were here." + +Lingard sat down with the child on his knees, and Almayer pulled out +violently one drawer after another, looking for the cards, as if the +fate of the world depended upon his haste. He produced a dirty double +pack which was only used during Lingard's visit to Sambir, when he would +sometimes play--of an evening--with Almayer, a game which he called +Chinese bezique. It bored Almayer, but the old seaman delighted in it, +considering it a remarkable product of Chinese genius--a race for which +he had an unaccountable liking and admiration. + +"Now we will get on, my little pearl," he said, putting together with +extreme precaution two cards that looked absurdly flimsy between his big +fingers. Little Nina watched him with intense seriousness as he went on +erecting the ground floor, while he continued to speak to Almayer with +his head over his shoulder so as not to endanger the structure with his +breath. + +"I know what I am talking about. . . . Been in California in forty-nine. +. . . Not that I made much . . . then in Victoria in the early days +. . . . I know all about it. Trust me. Moreover a blind man could . . . +Be quiet, little sister, or you will knock this affair down. . . . My hand +pretty steady yet! Hey, Kaspar? . . . Now, delight of my heart, we shall +put a third house on the top of these two . . . keep very quiet. . . . +As I was saying, you got only to stoop and gather handfuls of gold . . . +dust . . . there. Now here we are. Three houses on top of one another. +Grand!" + +He leaned back in his chair, one hand on the child's head, which he +smoothed mechanically, and gesticulated with the other, speaking to +Almayer. + +"Once on the spot, there would be only the trouble to pick up the stuff. +Then we shall all go to Europe. The child must be educated. We shall be +rich. Rich is no name for it. Down in Devonshire where I belong, there +was a fellow who built a house near Teignmouth which had as many windows +as a three-decker has ports. Made all his money somewhere out here in +the good old days. People around said he had been a pirate. We boys--I +was a boy in a Brixham trawler then--certainly believed that. He went +about in a bath-chair in his grounds. Had a glass eye . . ." + +"Higher, Higher!" called out Nina, pulling the old seaman's beard. + +"You do worry me--don't you?" said Lingard, gently, giving her a tender +kiss. "What? One more house on top of all these? Well! I will try." + +The child watched him breathlessly. When the difficult feat was +accomplished she clapped her hands, looked on steadily, and after a +while gave a great sigh of content. + +"Oh! Look out!" shouted Almayer. + +The structure collapsed suddenly before the child's light breath. +Lingard looked discomposed for a moment. Almayer laughed, but the little +girl began to cry. + +"Take her," said the old seaman, abruptly. Then, after Almayer went +away with the crying child, he remained sitting by the table, looking +gloomily at the heap of cards. + +"Damn this Willems," he muttered to himself. "But I will do it yet!" + +He got up, and with an angry push of his hand swept the cards off the +table. Then he fell back in his chair. + +"Tired as a dog," he sighed out, closing his eyes. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +Consciously or unconsciously, men are proud of their firmness, +steadfastness of purpose, directness of aim. They go straight towards +their desire, to the accomplishment of virtue--sometimes of crime--in an +uplifting persuasion of their firmness. They walk the road of life, the +road fenced in by their tastes, prejudices, disdains or enthusiasms, +generally honest, invariably stupid, and are proud of never losing their +way. If they do stop, it is to look for a moment over the hedges that +make them safe, to look at the misty valleys, at the distant peaks, at +cliffs and morasses, at the dark forests and the hazy plains where other +human beings grope their days painfully away, stumbling over the bones +of the wise, over the unburied remains of their predecessors who died +alone, in gloom or in sunshine, halfway from anywhere. The man of +purpose does not understand, and goes on, full of contempt. He never +loses his way. He knows where he is going and what he wants. Travelling +on, he achieves great length without any breadth, and battered, +besmirched, and weary, he touches the goal at last; he grasps the +reward of his perseverance, of his virtue, of his healthy optimism: an +untruthful tombstone over a dark and soon forgotten grave. + +Lingard had never hesitated in his life. Why should he? He had been +a most successful trader, and a man lucky in his fights, skilful in +navigation, undeniably first in seamanship in those seas. He knew it. +Had he not heard the voice of common consent? + +The voice of the world that respected him so much; the whole world to +him--for to us the limits of the universe are strictly defined by those +we know. There is nothing for us outside the babble of praise and blame +on familiar lips, and beyond our last acquaintance there lies only +a vast chaos; a chaos of laughter and tears which concerns us not; +laughter and tears unpleasant, wicked, morbid, contemptible--because +heard imperfectly by ears rebellious to strange sounds. To +Lingard--simple himself--all things were simple. He seldom read. Books +were not much in his way, and he had to work hard navigating, trading, +and also, in obedience to his benevolent instincts, shaping stray +lives he found here and there under his busy hand. He remembered the +Sunday-school teachings of his native village and the discourses of +the black-coated gentleman connected with the Mission to Fishermen and +Seamen, whose yawl-rigged boat darting through rain-squalls amongst the +coasters wind-bound in Falmouth Bay, was part of those precious pictures +of his youthful days that lingered in his memory. "As clever a sky-pilot +as you could wish to see," he would say with conviction, "and the best +man to handle a boat in any weather I ever did meet!" Such were the +agencies that had roughly shaped his young soul before he went away to +see the world in a southern-going ship--before he went, ignorant and +happy, heavy of hand, pure in heart, profane in speech, to give himself +up to the great sea that took his life and gave him his fortune. When +thinking of his rise in the world--commander of ships, then shipowner, +then a man of much capital, respected wherever he went, Lingard in a +word, the Rajah Laut--he was amazed and awed by his fate, that seemed to +his ill-informed mind the most wondrous known in the annals of men. +His experience appeared to him immense and conclusive, teaching him the +lesson of the simplicity of life. In life--as in seamanship--there were +only two ways of doing a thing: the right way and the wrong way. Common +sense and experience taught a man the way that was right. The other +was for lubbers and fools, and led, in seamanship, to loss of spars and +sails or shipwreck; in life, to loss of money and consideration, or +to an unlucky knock on the head. He did not consider it his duty to +be angry with rascals. He was only angry with things he could not +understand, but for the weaknesses of humanity he could find a +contemptuous tolerance. It being manifest that he was wise and +lucky--otherwise how could he have been as successful in life as he had +been?--he had an inclination to set right the lives of other people, +just as he could hardly refrain--in defiance of nautical etiquette--from +interfering with his chief officer when the crew was sending up a new +topmast, or generally when busy about, what he called, "a heavy job." He +was meddlesome with perfect modesty; if he knew a thing or two there was +no merit in it. "Hard knocks taught me wisdom, my boy," he used to say, +"and you had better take the advice of a man who has been a fool in his +time. Have another." And "my boy" as a rule took the cool drink, the +advice, and the consequent help which Lingard felt himself bound in +honour to give, so as to back up his opinion like an honest man. Captain +Tom went sailing from island to island, appearing unexpectedly +in various localities, beaming, noisy, anecdotal, commendatory or +comminatory, but always welcome. + +It was only since his return to Sambir that the old seaman had for the +first time known doubt and unhappiness, The loss of the Flash--planted +firmly and for ever on a ledge of rock at the north end of Gaspar +Straits in the uncertain light of a cloudy morning--shook him +considerably; and the amazing news which he heard on his arrival +in Sambir were not made to soothe his feelings. A good many years +ago--prompted by his love of adventure--he, with infinite trouble, had +found out and surveyed--for his own benefit only--the entrances to that +river, where, he had heard through native report, a new settlement of +Malays was forming. No doubt he thought at the time mostly of personal +gain; but, received with hearty friendliness by Patalolo, he soon came +to like the ruler and the people, offered his counsel and his help, +and--knowing nothing of Arcadia--he dreamed of Arcadian happiness for +that little corner of the world which he loved to think all his own. +His deep-seated and immovable conviction that only he--he, Lingard--knew +what was good for them was characteristic of him and, after all, not so +very far wrong. He would make them happy whether or no, he said, and he +meant it. His trade brought prosperity to the young state, and the fear +of his heavy hand secured its internal peace for many years. + +He looked proudly upon his work. With every passing year he loved more +the land, the people, the muddy river that, if he could help it, would +carry no other craft but the Flash on its unclean and friendly surface. +As he slowly warped his vessel up-stream he would scan with knowing +looks the riverside clearings, and pronounce solemn judgment upon the +prospects of the season's rice-crop. He knew every settler on the banks +between the sea and Sambir; he knew their wives, their children; he +knew every individual of the multi-coloured groups that, standing on +the flimsy platforms of tiny reed dwellings built over the water, waved +their hands and shouted shrilly: "O! Kapal layer! Hai!" while the Flash +swept slowly through the populated reach, to enter the lonely stretches +of sparkling brown water bordered by the dense and silent forest, +whose big trees nodded their outspread boughs gently in the faint, warm +breeze--as if in sign of tender but melancholy welcome. He loved it all: +the landscape of brown golds and brilliant emeralds under the dome of +hot sapphire; the whispering big trees; the loquacious nipa-palms that +rattled their leaves volubly in the night breeze, as if in haste to tell +him all the secrets of the great forest behind them. He loved the heavy +scents of blossoms and black earth, that breath of life and of death +which lingered over his brig in the damp air of tepid and peaceful +nights. He loved the narrow and sombre creeks, strangers to sunshine: +black, smooth, tortuous--like byways of despair. He liked even the +troops of sorrowful-faced monkeys that profaned the quiet spots with +capricious gambols and insane gestures of inhuman madness. He loved +everything there, animated or inanimated; the very mud of the riverside; +the very alligators, enormous and stolid, basking on it with impertinent +unconcern. Their size was a source of pride to him. "Immense fellows! +Make two of them Palembang reptiles! I tell you, old man!" he would +shout, poking some crony of his playfully in the ribs: "I tell you, +big as you are, they could swallow you in one gulp, hat, boots and all! +Magnificent beggars! Wouldn't you like to see them? Wouldn't you! Ha! +ha! ha!" His thunderous laughter filled the verandah, rolled over the +hotel garden, overflowed into the street, paralyzing for a short moment +the noiseless traffic of bare brown feet; and its loud reverberations +would even startle the landlord's tame bird--a shameless mynah--into +a momentary propriety of behaviour under the nearest chair. In the big +billiard-room perspiring men in thin cotton singlets would stop the +game, listen, cue in hand, for a while through the open windows, then +nod their moist faces at each other sagaciously and whisper: "The old +fellow is talking about his river." + +His river! The whispers of curious men, the mystery of the thing, +were to Lingard a source of never-ending delight. The common talk of +ignorance exaggerated the profits of his queer monopoly, and, although +strictly truthful in general, he liked, on that matter, to mislead +speculation still further by boasts full of cold raillery. His river! +By it he was not only rich--he was interesting. This secret of his which +made him different to the other traders of those seas gave intimate +satisfaction to that desire for singularity which he shared with the +rest of mankind, without being aware of its presence within his breast. +It was the greater part of his happiness, but he only knew it after its +loss, so unforeseen, so sudden and so cruel. + +After his conversation with Almayer he went on board the schooner, sent +Joanna on shore, and shut himself up in his cabin, feeling very unwell. +He made the most of his indisposition to Almayer, who came to visit him +twice a day. It was an excuse for doing nothing just yet. He wanted to +think. He was very angry. Angry with himself, with Willems. Angry at +what Willems had done--and also angry at what he had left undone. +The scoundrel was not complete. The conception was perfect, but +the execution, unaccountably, fell short. Why? He ought to have cut +Almayer's throat and burnt the place to ashes--then cleared out. Got +out of his way; of him, Lingard! Yet he didn't. Was it impudence, +contempt--or what? He felt hurt at the implied disrespect of his +power, and the incomplete rascality of the proceeding disturbed him +exceedingly. There was something short, something wanting, something +that would have given him a free hand in the work of retribution. The +obvious, the right thing to do, was to shoot Willems. Yet how could he? +Had the fellow resisted, showed fight, or ran away; had he shown any +consciousness of harm done, it would have been more possible, more +natural. But no! The fellow actually had sent him a message. Wanted +to see him. What for? The thing could not be explained. An unexampled, +cold-blooded treachery, awful, incomprehensible. Why did he do it? Why? +Why? The old seaman in the stuffy solitude of his little cabin on board +the schooner groaned out many times that question, striking with an open +palm his perplexed forehead. + +During his four days of seclusion he had received two messages from the +outer world; from that world of Sambir which had, so suddenly and so +finally, slipped from his grasp. One, a few words from Willems written +on a torn-out page of a small notebook; the other, a communication +from Abdulla caligraphed carefully on a large sheet of flimsy paper +and delivered to him in a green silk wrapper. The first he could not +understand. It said: "Come and see me. I am not afraid. Are you? W." +He tore it up angrily, but before the small bits of dirty paper had the +time to flutter down and settle on the floor, the anger was gone and was +replaced by a sentiment that induced him to go on his knees, pick up +the fragments of the torn message, piece it together on the top of his +chronometer box, and contemplate it long and thoughtfully, as if he had +hoped to read the answer of the horrible riddle in the very form of the +letters that went to make up that fresh insult. Abdulla's letter he read +carefully and rammed it into his pocket, also with anger, but with anger +that ended in a half-resigned, half-amused smile. He would never give in +as long as there was a chance. "It's generally the safest way to stick +to the ship as long as she will swim," was one of his favourite sayings: +"The safest and the right way. To abandon a craft because it leaks is +easy--but poor work. Poor work!" Yet he was intelligent enough to know +when he was beaten, and to accept the situation like a man, without +repining. When Almayer came on board that afternoon he handed him the +letter without comment. + +Almayer read it, returned it in silence, and leaning over the taffrail +(the two men were on deck) looked down for some time at the play of the +eddies round the schooner's rudder. At last he said without looking up-- + +"That's a decent enough letter. Abdulla gives him up to you. I told you +they were getting sick of him. What are you going to do?" + +Lingard cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, opened his mouth with +great determination, but said nothing for a while. At last he murmured-- + +"I'll be hanged if I know--just yet." + +"I wish you would do something soon . . ." + +"What's the hurry?" interrupted Lingard. "He can't get away. As it +stands he is at my mercy, as far as I can see." + +"Yes," said Almayer, reflectively--"and very little mercy he deserves +too. Abdulla's meaning--as I can make it out amongst all those +compliments--is: 'Get rid for me of that white man--and we shall live in +peace and share the trade."' + +"You believe that?" asked Lingard, contemptuously. + +"Not altogether," answered Almayer. "No doubt we will share the trade +for a time--till he can grab the lot. Well, what are you going to do?" + +He looked up as he spoke and was surprised to see Lingard's discomposed +face. + +"You ain't well. Pain anywhere?" he asked, with real solicitude. + +"I have been queer--you know--these last few days, but no pain." He +struck his broad chest several times, cleared his throat with a powerful +"Hem!" and repeated: "No. No pain. Good for a few years yet. But I am +bothered with all this, I can tell you!" + +"You must take care of yourself," said Almayer. Then after a pause he +added: "You will see Abdulla. Won't you?" + +"I don't know. Not yet. There's plenty of time," said Lingard, +impatiently. + +"I wish you would do something," urged Almayer, moodily. "You know, that +woman is a perfect nuisance to me. She and her brat! Yelps all day. And +the children don't get on together. Yesterday the little devil wanted to +fight with my Nina. Scratched her face, too. A perfect savage! Like +his honourable papa. Yes, really. She worries about her husband, and +whimpers from morning to night. When she isn't weeping she is furious +with me. Yesterday she tormented me to tell her when he would be +back and cried because he was engaged in such dangerous work. I said +something about it being all right--no necessity to make a fool of +herself, when she turned upon me like a wild cat. Called me a brute, +selfish, heartless; raved about her beloved Peter risking his life for +my benefit, while I did not care. Said I took advantage of his generous +good-nature to get him to do dangerous work--my work. That he was worth +twenty of the likes of me. That she would tell you--open your eyes as +to the kind of man I was, and so on. That's what I've got to put up with +for your sake. You really might consider me a little. I haven't robbed +anybody," went on Almayer, with an attempt at bitter irony--"or sold +my best friend, but still you ought to have some pity on me. It's like +living in a hot fever. She is out of her wits. You make my house a +refuge for scoundrels and lunatics. It isn't fair. 'Pon my word +it isn't! When she is in her tantrums she is ridiculously ugly and +screeches so--it sets my teeth on edge. Thank God! my wife got a fit of +the sulks and cleared out of the house. Lives in a riverside hut since +that affair--you know. But this Willems' wife by herself is almost more +than I can bear. And I ask myself why should I? You are exacting and no +mistake. This morning I thought she was going to claw me. Only think! +She wanted to go prancing about the settlement. She might have heard +something there, so I told her she mustn't. It wasn't safe outside our +fences, I said. Thereupon she rushes at me with her ten nails up to my +eyes. 'You miserable man,' she yells, 'even this place is not safe, and +you've sent him up this awful river where he may lose his head. If he +dies before forgiving me, Heaven will punish you for your crime . . .' +My crime! I ask myself sometimes whether I am dreaming! It will make me +ill, all this. I've lost my appetite already." + +He flung his hat on deck and laid hold of his hair despairingly. Lingard +looked at him with concern. + +"What did she mean by it?" he muttered, thoughtfully. + +"Mean! She is crazy, I tell you--and I will be, very soon, if this +lasts!" + +"Just a little patience, Kaspar," pleaded Lingard. "A day or so more." + +Relieved or tired by his violent outburst, Almayer calmed down, picked +up his hat and, leaning against the bulwark, commenced to fan himself +with it. + +"Days do pass," he said, resignedly--"but that kind of thing makes a +man old before his time. What is there to think about?--I can't imagine! +Abdulla says plainly that if you undertake to pilot his ship out and +instruct the half-caste, he will drop Willems like a hot potato and be +your friend ever after. I believe him perfectly, as to Willems. It's so +natural. As to being your friend it's a lie of course, but we need +not bother about that just yet. You just say yes to Abdulla, and then +whatever happens to Willems will be nobody's business." + +He interrupted himself and remained silent for a while, glaring about +with set teeth and dilated nostrils. + +"You leave it to me. I'll see to it that something happens to him," he +said at last, with calm ferocity. Lingard smiled faintly. + +"The fellow isn't worth a shot. Not the trouble of it," he whispered, as +if to himself. Almayer fired up suddenly. + +"That's what you think," he cried. "You haven't been sewn up in your +hammock to be made a laughing-stock of before a parcel of savages. Why! +I daren't look anybody here in the face while that scoundrel is alive. I +will . . . I will settle him." + +"I don't think you will," growled Lingard. + +"Do you think I am afraid of him?" + +"Bless you! no!" said Lingard with alacrity. "Afraid! Not you. I know +you. I don't doubt your courage. It's your head, my boy, your head that +I . . ." + +"That's it," said the aggrieved Almayer. "Go on. Why don't you call me a +fool at once?" + +"Because I don't want to," burst out Lingard, with nervous irritability. +"If I wanted to call you a fool, I would do so without asking your +leave." He began to walk athwart the narrow quarter-deck, kicking ropes' +ends out of his way and growling to himself: "Delicate gentleman . . . +what next? . . . I've done man's work before you could toddle. +Understand . . . say what I like." + +"Well! well!" said Almayer, with affected resignation. "There's no +talking to you these last few days." He put on his hat, strolled to +the gangway and stopped, one foot on the little inside ladder, as if +hesitating, came back and planted himself in Lingard's way, compelling +him to stand still and listen. + +"Of course you will do what you like. You never take advice--I know +that; but let me tell you that it wouldn't be honest to let that fellow +get away from here. If you do nothing, that scoundrel will leave in +Abdulla's ship for sure. Abdulla will make use of him to hurt you and +others elsewhere. Willems knows too much about your affairs. He will +cause you lots of trouble. You mark my words. Lots of trouble. To +you--and to others perhaps. Think of that, Captain Lingard. That's all +I've got to say. Now I must go back on shore. There's lots of work. We +will begin loading this schooner to-morrow morning, first thing. All the +bundles are ready. If you should want me for anything, hoist some kind +of flag on the mainmast. At night two shots will fetch me." Then +he added, in a friendly tone, "Won't you come and dine in the house +to-night? It can't be good for you to stew on board like that, day after +day." + +Lingard did not answer. The image evoked by Almayer; the picture of +Willems ranging over the islands and disturbing the harmony of +the universe by robbery, treachery, and violence, held him silent, +entranced--painfully spellbound. Almayer, after waiting for a little +while, moved reluctantly towards the gangway, lingered there, then +sighed and got over the side, going down step by step. His head +disappeared slowly below the rail. Lingard, who had been staring at him +absently, started suddenly, ran to the side, and looking over, called +out-- + +"Hey! Kaspar! Hold on a bit!" + +Almayer signed to his boatmen to cease paddling, and turned his head +towards the schooner. The boat drifted back slowly abreast of Lingard, +nearly alongside. + +"Look here," said Lingard, looking down--"I want a good canoe with four +men to-day." + +"Do you want it now?" asked Almayer. + +"No! Catch this rope. Oh, you clumsy devil! . . . No, Kaspar," went on +Lingard, after the bow-man had got hold of the end of the brace he had +thrown down into the canoe--"No, Kaspar. The sun is too much for me. And +it would be better to keep my affairs quiet, too. Send the canoe--four +good paddlers, mind, and your canvas chair for me to sit in. Send it +about sunset. D'ye hear?" + +"All right, father," said Almayer, cheerfully--"I will send Ali for a +steersman, and the best men I've got. Anything else?" + +"No, my lad. Only don't let them be late." + +"I suppose it's no use asking you where you are going," said Almayer, +tentatively. "Because if it is to see Abdulla, I . . ." + +"I am not going to see Abdulla. Not to-day. Now be off with you." + +He watched the canoe dart away shorewards, waved his hand in response +to Almayer's nod, and walked to the taffrail smoothing out Abdulla's +letter, which he had pulled out of his pocket. He read it over +carefully, crumpled it up slowly, smiling the while and closing his +fingers firmly over the crackling paper as though he had hold there +of Abdulla's throat. Halfway to his pocket he changed his mind, and +flinging the ball overboard looked at it thoughtfully as it spun round +in the eddies for a moment, before the current bore it away down-stream, +towards the sea. + + + + +PART IV + + +CHAPTER ONE + +The night was very dark. For the first time in many months the East +Coast slept unseen by the stars under a veil of motionless cloud that, +driven before the first breath of the rainy monsoon, had drifted slowly +from the eastward all the afternoon; pursuing the declining sun with +its masses of black and grey that seemed to chase the light with wicked +intent, and with an ominous and gloomy steadiness, as though conscious +of the message of violence and turmoil they carried. At the sun's +disappearance below the western horizon, the immense cloud, in quickened +motion, grappled with the glow of retreating light, and rolling down +to the clear and jagged outline of the distant mountains, hung arrested +above the steaming forests; hanging low, silent and menacing over the +unstirring tree-tops; withholding the blessing of rain, nursing the +wrath of its thunder; undecided--as if brooding over its own power for +good or for evil. + +Babalatchi, coming out of the red and smoky light of his little bamboo +house, glanced upwards, drew in a long breath of the warm and stagnant +air, and stood for a moment with his good eye closed tightly, as if +intimidated by the unwonted and deep silence of Lakamba's courtyard. +When he opened his eye he had recovered his sight so far, that he could +distinguish the various degrees of formless blackness which marked the +places of trees, of abandoned houses, of riverside bushes, on the dark +background of the night. + +The careworn sage walked cautiously down the deserted courtyard to the +waterside, and stood on the bank listening to the voice of the invisible +river that flowed at his feet; listening to the soft whispers, to the +deep murmurs, to the sudden gurgles and the short hisses of the swift +current racing along the bank through the hot darkness. + +He stood with his face turned to the river, and it seemed to him that he +could breathe easier with the knowledge of the clear vast space before +him; then, after a while he leaned heavily forward on his staff, his +chin fell on his breast, and a deep sigh was his answer to the selfish +discourse of the river that hurried on unceasing and fast, regardless of +joy or sorrow, of suffering and of strife, of failures and triumphs that +lived on its banks. The brown water was there, ready to carry friends or +enemies, to nurse love or hate on its submissive and heartless bosom, +to help or to hinder, to save life or give death; the great and rapid +river: a deliverance, a prison, a refuge or a grave. + +Perchance such thoughts as these caused Babalatchi to send another +mournful sigh into the trailing mists of the unconcerned Pantai. The +barbarous politician had forgotten the recent success of his plottings +in the melancholy contemplation of a sorrow that made the night blacker, +the clammy heat more oppressive, the still air more heavy, the dumb +solitude more significant of torment than of peace. He had spent the +night before by the side of the dying Omar, and now, after twenty-four +hours, his memory persisted in returning to that low and sombre reed +hut from which the fierce spirit of the incomparably accomplished pirate +took its flight, to learn too late, in a worse world, the error of +its earthly ways. The mind of the savage statesman, chastened by +bereavement, felt for a moment the weight of his loneliness with +keen perception worthy even of a sensibility exasperated by all the +refinements of tender sentiment that a glorious civilization brings in +its train, among other blessings and virtues, into this excellent world. +For the space of about thirty seconds, a half-naked, betel-chewing +pessimist stood upon the bank of the tropical river, on the edge of the +still and immense forests; a man angry, powerless, empty-handed, with a +cry of bitter discontent ready on his lips; a cry that, had it come out, +would have rung through the virgin solitudes of the woods, as true, as +great, as profound, as any philosophical shriek that ever came from the +depths of an easy-chair to disturb the impure wilderness of chimneys and +roofs. + +For half a minute and no more did Babalatchi face the gods in the +sublime privilege of his revolt, and then the one-eyed puller of wires +became himself again, full of care and wisdom and far-reaching plans, +and a victim to the tormenting superstitions of his race. The night, no +matter how quiet, is never perfectly silent to attentive ears, and now +Babalatchi fancied he could detect in it other noises than those caused +by the ripples and eddies of the river. He turned his head sharply to +the right and to the left in succession, and then spun round quickly in +a startled and watchful manner, as if he had expected to see the blind +ghost of his departed leader wandering in the obscurity of the empty +courtyard behind his back. Nothing there. Yet he had heard a noise; +a strange noise! No doubt a ghostly voice of a complaining and angry +spirit. He listened. Not a sound. Reassured, Babalatchi made a few paces +towards his house, when a very human noise, that of hoarse coughing, +reached him from the river. He stopped, listened attentively, but now +without any sign of emotion, and moving briskly back to the waterside +stood expectant with parted lips, trying to pierce with his eye the +wavering curtain of mist that hung low over the water. He could see +nothing, yet some people in a canoe must have been very near, for he +heard words spoken in an ordinary tone. + +"Do you think this is the place, Ali? I can see nothing." + +"It must be near here, Tuan," answered another voice. "Shall we try the +bank?" + +"No! . . . Let drift a little. If you go poking into the bank in the +dark you might stove the canoe on some log. We must be careful. . . . +Let drift! Let drift! . . . This does seem to be a clearing of +some sort. We may see a light by and by from some house or other. In +Lakamba's campong there are many houses? Hey?" + +"A great number, Tuan . . . I do not see any light." + +"Nor I," grumbled the first voice again, this time nearly abreast of the +silent Babalatchi who looked uneasily towards his own house, the doorway +of which glowed with the dim light of a torch burning within. The +house stood end on to the river, and its doorway faced down-stream, so +Babalatchi reasoned rapidly that the strangers on the river could not +see the light from the position their boat was in at the moment. He +could not make up his mind to call out to them, and while he hesitated +he heard the voices again, but now some way below the landing-place +where he stood. + +"Nothing. This cannot be it. Let them give way, Ali! Dayong there!" + +That order was followed by the splash of paddles, then a sudden cry-- + +"I see a light. I see it! Now I know where to land, Tuan." + +There was more splashing as the canoe was paddled sharply round and came +back up-stream close to the bank. + +"Call out," said very near a deep voice, which Babalatchi felt sure must +belong to a white man. "Call out--and somebody may come with a torch. I +can't see anything." + +The loud hail that succeeded these words was emitted nearly under the +silent listener's nose. Babalatchi, to preserve appearances, ran with +long but noiseless strides halfway up the courtyard, and only then +shouted in answer and kept on shouting as he walked slowly back again +towards the river bank. He saw there an indistinct shape of a boat, not +quite alongside the landing-place. + +"Who speaks on the river?" asked Babalatchi, throwing a tone of surprise +into his question. + +"A white man," answered Lingard from the canoe. "Is there not one torch +in rich Lakamba's campong to light a guest on his landing?" + +"There are no torches and no men. I am alone here," said Babalatchi, +with some hesitation. + +"Alone!" exclaimed Lingard. "Who are you?" + +"Only a servant of Lakamba. But land, Tuan Putih, and see my face. Here +is my hand. No! Here! . . . By your mercy. . . . Ada! . . . Now you are +safe." + +"And you are alone here?" said Lingard, moving with precaution a few +steps into the courtyard. "How dark it is," he muttered to himself--"one +would think the world had been painted black." + +"Yes. Alone. What more did you say, Tuan? I did not understand your +talk." + +"It is nothing. I expected to find here . . . But where are they all?" + +"What matters where they are?" said Babalatchi, gloomily. "Have you come +to see my people? The last departed on a long journey--and I am alone. +Tomorrow I go too." + +"I came to see a white man," said Lingard, walking on slowly. "He is not +gone, is he?" + +"No!" answered Babalatchi, at his elbow. "A man with a red skin and hard +eyes," he went on, musingly, "whose hand is strong, and whose heart is +foolish and weak. A white man indeed . . . But still a man." + +They were now at the foot of the short ladder which led to the +split-bamboo platform surrounding Babalatchi's habitation. The faint +light from the doorway fell down upon the two men's faces as they stood +looking at each other curiously. + +"Is he there?" asked Lingard, in a low voice, with a wave of his hand +upwards. + +Babalatchi, staring hard at his long-expected visitor, did not answer at +once. "No, not there," he said at last, placing his foot on the lowest +rung and looking back. "Not there, Tuan--yet not very far. Will you sit +down in my dwelling? There may be rice and fish and clear water--not +from the river, but from a spring . . ." + +"I am not hungry," interrupted Lingard, curtly, "and I did not come here +to sit in your dwelling. Lead me to the white man who expects me. I have +no time to lose." + +"The night is long, Tuan," went on Babalatchi, softly, "and there are +other nights and other days. Long. Very long . . . How much time it +takes for a man to die! O Rajah Laut!" + +Lingard started. + +"You know me!" he exclaimed. + +"Ay--wa! I have seen your face and felt your hand before--many years +ago," said Babalatchi, holding on halfway up the ladder, and bending +down from above to peer into Lingard's upturned face. "You do not +remember--but I have not forgotten. There are many men like me: there is +only one Rajah Laut." + +He climbed with sudden agility the last few steps, and stood on the +platform waving his hand invitingly to Lingard, who followed after a +short moment of indecision. + +The elastic bamboo floor of the hut bent under the heavy weight of the +old seaman, who, standing within the threshold, tried to look into the +smoky gloom of the low dwelling. Under the torch, thrust into the cleft +of a stick, fastened at a right angle to the middle stay of the ridge +pole, lay a red patch of light, showing a few shabby mats and a corner +of a big wooden chest the rest of which was lost in shadow. In the +obscurity of the more remote parts of the house a lance-head, a brass +tray hung on the wall, the long barrel of a gun leaning against the +chest, caught the stray rays of the smoky illumination in trembling +gleams that wavered, disappeared, reappeared, went out, came back--as if +engaged in a doubtful struggle with the darkness that, lying in wait in +distant corners, seemed to dart out viciously towards its feeble enemy. +The vast space under the high pitch of the roof was filled with a thick +cloud of smoke, whose under-side--level like a ceiling--reflected the +light of the swaying dull flame, while at the top it oozed out through +the imperfect thatch of dried palm leaves. An indescribable and +complicated smell, made up of the exhalation of damp earth below, of +the taint of dried fish and of the effluvia of rotting vegetable matter, +pervaded the place and caused Lingard to sniff strongly as he strode +over, sat on the chest, and, leaning his elbows on his knees, took his +head between his hands and stared at the doorway thoughtfully. + +Babalatchi moved about in the shadows, whispering to an indistinct form +or two that flitted about at the far end of the hut. Without stirring +Lingard glanced sideways, and caught sight of muffled-up human shapes +that hovered for a moment near the edge of light and retreated suddenly +back into the darkness. Babalatchi approached, and sat at Lingard's feet +on a rolled-up bundle of mats. + +"Will you eat rice and drink sagueir?" he said. "I have waked up my +household." + +"My friend," said Lingard, without looking at him, "when I come to +see Lakamba, or any of Lakamba's servants, I am never hungry and never +thirsty. Tau! Savee! Never! Do you think I am devoid of reason? That +there is nothing there?" + +He sat up, and, fixing abruptly his eyes on Babalatchi, tapped his own +forehead significantly. + +"Tse! Tse! Tse! How can you talk like that, Tuan!" exclaimed Babalatchi, +in a horrified tone. + +"I talk as I think. I have lived many years," said Lingard, stretching +his arm negligently to take up the gun, which he began to examine +knowingly, cocking it, and easing down the hammer several times. "This +is good. Mataram make. Old, too," he went on. + +"Hai!" broke in Babalatchi, eagerly. "I got it when I was young. He +was an Aru trader, a man with a big stomach and a loud voice, and +brave--very brave. When we came up with his prau in the grey morning, he +stood aft shouting to his men and fired this gun at us once. Only once!" +. . . He paused, laughed softly, and went on in a low, dreamy voice. "In +the grey morning we came up: forty silent men in a swift Sulu prau; and +when the sun was so high"--here he held up his hands about three feet +apart--"when the sun was only so high, Tuan, our work was done--and +there was a feast ready for the fishes of the sea." + +"Aye! aye!" muttered Lingard, nodding his head slowly. "I see. You +should not let it get rusty like this," he added. + +He let the gun fall between his knees, and moving back on his seat, +leaned his head against the wall of the hut, crossing his arms on his +breast. + +"A good gun," went on Babalatchi. "Carry far and true. Better than +this--there." + +With the tips of his fingers he touched gently the butt of a revolver +peeping out of the right pocket of Lingard's white jacket. + +"Take your hand off that," said Lingard sharply, but in a good-humoured +tone and without making the slightest movement. + +Babalatchi smiled and hitched his seat a little further off. + +For some time they sat in silence. Lingard, with his head tilted back, +looked downwards with lowered eyelids at Babalatchi, who was tracing +invisible lines with his finger on the mat between his feet. Outside, +they could hear Ali and the other boatmen chattering and laughing round +the fire they had lighted in the big and deserted courtyard. + +"Well, what about that white man?" said Lingard, quietly. + +It seemed as if Babalatchi had not heard the question. He went on +tracing elaborate patterns on the floor for a good while. Lingard waited +motionless. At last the Malay lifted his head. + +"Hai! The white man. I know!" he murmured absently. "This white man or +another. . . . Tuan," he said aloud with unexpected animation, "you are +a man of the sea?" + +"You know me. Why ask?" said Lingard, in a low tone. + +"Yes. A man of the sea--even as we are. A true Orang Laut," went on +Babalatchi, thoughtfully, "not like the rest of the white men." + +"I am like other whites, and do not wish to speak many words when the +truth is short. I came here to see the white man that helped Lakamba +against Patalolo, who is my friend. Show me where that white man lives; +I want him to hear my talk." + +"Talk only? Tuan! Why hurry? The night is long and death is swift--as +you ought to know; you who have dealt it to so many of my people. Many +years ago I have faced you, arms in hand. Do you not remember? It was in +Carimata--far from here." + +"I cannot remember every vagabond that came in my way," protested +Lingard, seriously. + +"Hai! Hai!" continued Babalatchi, unmoved and dreamy. "Many years +ago. Then all this"--and looking up suddenly at Lingard's beard, he +flourished his fingers below his own beardless chin--"then all this was +like gold in sunlight, now it is like the foam of an angry sea." + +"Maybe, maybe," said Lingard, patiently, paying the involuntary tribute +of a faint sigh to the memories of the past evoked by Babalatchi's +words. + +He had been living with Malays so long and so close that the extreme +deliberation and deviousness of their mental proceedings had ceased to +irritate him much. To-night, perhaps, he was less prone to impatience +than ever. He was disposed, if not to listen to Babalatchi, then to let +him talk. It was evident to him that the man had something to say, and +he hoped that from the talk a ray of light would shoot through the thick +blackness of inexplicable treachery, to show him clearly--if only for +a second--the man upon whom he would have to execute the verdict of +justice. Justice only! Nothing was further from his thoughts than such +an useless thing as revenge. Justice only. It was his duty that justice +should be done--and by his own hand. He did not like to think how. To +him, as to Babalatchi, it seemed that the night would be long enough for +the work he had to do. But he did not define to himself the nature +of the work, and he sat very still, and willingly dilatory, under the +fearsome oppression of his call. What was the good to think about it? +It was inevitable, and its time was near. Yet he could not command his +memories that came crowding round him in that evil-smelling hut, while +Babalatchi talked on in a flowing monotone, nothing of him moving but +the lips, in the artificially inanimated face. Lingard, like an anchored +ship that had broken her sheer, darted about here and there on the rapid +tide of his recollections. The subdued sound of soft words rang around +him, but his thoughts were lost, now in the contemplation of the past +sweetness and strife of Carimata days, now in the uneasy wonder at the +failure of his judgment; at the fatal blindness of accident that had +caused him, many years ago, to rescue a half-starved runaway from a +Dutch ship in Samarang roads. How he had liked the man: his assurance, +his push, his desire to get on, his conceited good-humour and his +selfish eloquence. He had liked his very faults--those faults that had +so many, to him, sympathetic sides. + +And he had always dealt fairly by him from the very beginning; and +he would deal fairly by him now--to the very end. This last thought +darkened Lingard's features with a responsive and menacing frown. The +doer of justice sat with compressed lips and a heavy heart, while in the +calm darkness outside the silent world seemed to be waiting breathlessly +for that justice he held in his hand--in his strong hand:--ready to +strike--reluctant to move. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +Babalatchi ceased speaking. Lingard shifted his feet a little, uncrossed +his arms, and shook his head slowly. The narrative of the events in +Sambir, related from the point of view of the astute statesman, the +sense of which had been caught here and there by his inattentive ears, +had been yet like a thread to guide him out of the sombre labyrinth of +his thoughts; and now he had come to the end of it, out of the tangled +past into the pressing necessities of the present. With the palms of his +hands on his knees, his elbows squared out, he looked down on Babalatchi +who sat in a stiff attitude, inexpressive and mute as a talking doll the +mechanism of which had at length run down. + +"You people did all this," said Lingard at last, "and you will be sorry +for it before the dry wind begins to blow again. Abdulla's voice will +bring the Dutch rule here." + +Babalatchi waved his hand towards the dark doorway. + +"There are forests there. Lakamba rules the land now. Tell me, Tuan, do +you think the big trees know the name of the ruler? No. They are born, +they grow, they live and they die--yet know not, feel not. It is their +land." + +"Even a big tree may be killed by a small axe," said Lingard, drily. +"And, remember, my one-eyed friend, that axes are made by white hands. +You will soon find that out, since you have hoisted the flag of the +Dutch." + +"Ay--wa!" said Babalatchi, slowly. "It is written that the earth belongs +to those who have fair skins and hard but foolish hearts. The farther +away is the master, the easier it is for the slave, Tuan! You were too +near. Your voice rang in our ears always. Now it is not going to be so. +The great Rajah in Batavia is strong, but he may be deceived. He must +speak very loud to be heard here. But if we have need to shout, then he +must hear the many voices that call for protection. He is but a white +man." + +"If I ever spoke to Patalolo, like an elder brother, it was for your +good--for the good of all," said Lingard with great earnestness. + +"This is a white man's talk," exclaimed Babalatchi, with bitter +exultation. "I know you. That is how you all talk while you load your +guns and sharpen your swords; and when you are ready, then to those who +are weak you say: 'Obey me and be happy, or die! You are strange, you +white men. You think it is only your wisdom and your virtue and your +happiness that are true. You are stronger than the wild beasts, but not +so wise. A black tiger knows when he is not hungry--you do not. He knows +the difference between himself and those that can speak; you do not +understand the difference between yourselves and us--who are men. You +are wise and great--and you shall always be fools." + +He threw up both his hands, stirring the sleeping cloud of smoke that +hung above his head, and brought the open palms on the flimsy floor on +each side of his outstretched legs. The whole hut shook. Lingard looked +at the excited statesman curiously. + +"Apa! Apa! What's the matter?" he murmured, soothingly. "Whom did I kill +here? Where are my guns? What have I done? What have I eaten up?" + +Babalatchi calmed down, and spoke with studied courtesy. + +"You, Tuan, are of the sea, and more like what we are. Therefore I speak +to you all the words that are in my heart. . . . Only once has the sea +been stronger than the Rajah of the sea." + +"You know it; do you?" said Lingard, with pained sharpness. + +"Hai! We have heard about your ship--and some rejoiced. Not I. Amongst +the whites, who are devils, you are a man." + +"Trima kassi! I give you thanks," said Lingard, gravely. + +Babalatchi looked down with a bashful smile, but his face became +saddened directly, and when he spoke again it was in a mournful tone. + +"Had you come a day sooner, Tuan, you would have seen an enemy die. You +would have seen him die poor, blind, unhappy--with no son to dig his +grave and speak of his wisdom and courage. Yes; you would have seen the +man that fought you in Carimata many years ago, die alone--but for one +friend. A great sight to you." + +"Not to me," answered Lingard. "I did not even remember him till +you spoke his name just now. You do not understand us. We fight, we +vanquish--and we forget." + +"True, true," said Babalatchi, with polite irony; "you whites are so +great that you disdain to remember your enemies. No! No!" he went on, in +the same tone, "you have so much mercy for us, that there is no room for +any remembrance. Oh, you are great and good! But it is in my mind that +amongst yourselves you know how to remember. Is it not so, Tuan?" + +Lingard said nothing. His shoulders moved imperceptibly. He laid his gun +across his knees and stared at the flint lock absently. + +"Yes," went on Babalatchi, falling again into a mournful mood, "yes, he +died in darkness. I sat by his side and held his hand, but he could not +see the face of him who watched the faint breath on his lips. She, whom +he had cursed because of the white man, was there too, and wept with +covered face. The white man walked about the courtyard making many +noises. Now and then he would come to the doorway and glare at us who +mourned. He stared with wicked eyes, and then I was glad that he who was +dying was blind. This is true talk. I was glad; for a white man's eyes +are not good to see when the devil that lives within is looking out +through them." + +"Devil! Hey?" said Lingard, half aloud to himself, as if struck with the +obviousness of some novel idea. Babalatchi went on: + +"At the first hour of the morning he sat up--he so weak--and said +plainly some words that were not meant for human ears. I held his hand +tightly, but it was time for the leader of brave men to go amongst the +Faithful who are happy. They of my household brought a white sheet, and +I began to dig a grave in the hut in which he died. She mourned aloud. +The white man came to the doorway and shouted. He was angry. Angry with +her because she beat her breast, and tore her hair, and mourned with +shrill cries as a woman should. Do you understand what I say, Tuan? +That white man came inside the hut with great fury, and took her by the +shoulder, and dragged her out. Yes, Tuan. I saw Omar dead, and I saw her +at the feet of that white dog who has deceived me. I saw his face grey, +like the cold mist of the morning; I saw his pale eyes looking down at +Omar's daughter beating her head on the ground at his feet. At the feet +of him who is Abdulla's slave. Yes, he lives by Abdulla's will. That is +why I held my hand while I saw all this. I held my hand because we are +now under the flag of the Orang Blanda, and Abdulla can speak into the +ears of the great. We must not have any trouble with white men. Abdulla +has spoken--and I must obey." + +"That's it, is it?" growled Lingard in his moustache. Then in Malay, "It +seems that you are angry, O Babalatchi!" + +"No; I am not angry, Tuan," answered Babalatchi, descending from the +insecure heights of his indignation into the insincere depths of safe +humility. "I am not angry. What am I to be angry? I am only an Orang +Laut, and I have fled before your people many times. Servant of this +one--protected of another; I have given my counsel here and there for a +handful of rice. What am I, to be angry with a white man? What is anger +without the power to strike? But you whites have taken all: the land, +the sea, and the power to strike! And there is nothing left for us in +the islands but your white men's justice; your great justice that knows +not anger." + +He got up and stood for a moment in the doorway, sniffing the hot air of +the courtyard, then turned back and leaned against the stay of the ridge +pole, facing Lingard who kept his seat on the chest. The torch, consumed +nearly to the end, burned noisily. Small explosions took place in the +heart of the flame, driving through its smoky blaze strings of hard, +round puffs of white smoke, no bigger than peas, which rolled out of +doors in the faint draught that came from invisible cracks of the bamboo +walls. The pungent taint of unclean things below and about the hut +grew heavier, weighing down Lingard's resolution and his thoughts in an +irresistible numbness of the brain. He thought drowsily of himself and +of that man who wanted to see him--who waited to see him. Who waited! +Night and day. Waited. . . . A spiteful but vaporous idea floated +through his brain that such waiting could not be very pleasant to the +fellow. Well, let him wait. He would see him soon enough. And for how +long? Five seconds--five minutes--say nothing--say something. What? No! +Just give him time to take one good look, and then . . . + +Suddenly Babalatchi began to speak in a soft voice. Lingard blinked, +cleared his throat--sat up straight. + +"You know all now, Tuan. Lakamba dwells in the stockaded house of +Patalolo; Abdulla has begun to build godowns of plank and stone; and now +that Omar is dead, I myself shall depart from this place and live with +Lakamba and speak in his ear. I have served many. The best of them all +sleeps in the ground in a white sheet, with nothing to mark his grave +but the ashes of the hut in which he died. Yes, Tuan! the white man +destroyed it himself. With a blazing brand in his hand he strode around, +shouting to me to come out--shouting to me, who was throwing earth on +the body of a great leader. Yes; swearing to me by the name of your +God and ours that he would burn me and her in there if we did not make +haste. . . . Hai! The white men are very masterful and wise. I dragged +her out quickly!" + +"Oh, damn it!" exclaimed Lingard--then went on in Malay, speaking +earnestly. "Listen. That man is not like other white men. You know he is +not. He is not a man at all. He is . . . I don't know." + +Babalatchi lifted his hand deprecatingly. His eye twinkled, and his +red-stained big lips, parted by an expressionless grin, uncovered a +stumpy row of black teeth filed evenly to the gums. + +"Hai! Hai! Not like you. Not like you," he said, increasing the softness +of his tones as he neared the object uppermost in his mind during that +much-desired interview. "Not like you, Tuan, who are like ourselves, +only wiser and stronger. Yet he, also, is full of great cunning, and +speaks of you without any respect, after the manner of white men when +they talk of one another." + +Lingard leaped in his seat as if he had been prodded. + +"He speaks! What does he say?" he shouted. + +"Nay, Tuan," protested the composed Babalatchi; "what matters his talk +if he is not a man? I am nothing before you--why should I repeat words +of one white man about another? He did boast to Abdulla of having +learned much from your wisdom in years past. Other words I have +forgotten. Indeed, Tuan, I have . . ." + +Lingard cut short Babalatchi's protestations by a contemptuous wave of +the hand and reseated himself with dignity. + +"I shall go," said Babalatchi, "and the white man will remain here, +alone with the spirit of the dead and with her who has been the delight +of his heart. He, being white, cannot hear the voice of those that +died. . . . Tell me, Tuan," he went on, looking at Lingard with +curiosity--"tell me, Tuan, do you white people ever hear the voices of +the invisible ones?" + +"We do not," answered Lingard, "because those that we cannot see do not +speak." + +"Never speak! And never complain with sounds that are not words?" +exclaimed Babalatchi, doubtingly. "It may be so--or your ears are +dull. We Malays hear many sounds near the places where men are buried. +To-night I heard . . . Yes, even I have heard. . . . I do not want to +hear any more," he added, nervously. "Perhaps I was wrong when I . . . +There are things I regret. The trouble was heavy in his heart when he +died. Sometimes I think I was wrong . . . but I do not want to hear +the complaint of invisible lips. Therefore I go, Tuan. Let the unquiet +spirit speak to his enemy the white man who knows not fear, or love, +or mercy--knows nothing but contempt and violence. I have been wrong! I +have! Hai! Hai!" + +He stood for awhile with his elbow in the palm of his left hand, the +fingers of the other over his lips as if to stifle the expression of +inconvenient remorse; then, after glancing at the torch, burnt out +nearly to its end, he moved towards the wall by the chest, fumbled about +there and suddenly flung open a large shutter of attaps woven in a light +framework of sticks. Lingard swung his legs quickly round the corner of +his seat. + +"Hallo!" he said, surprised. + +The cloud of smoke stirred, and a slow wisp curled out through the new +opening. The torch flickered, hissed, and went out, the glowing end +falling on the mat, whence Babalatchi snatched it up and tossed it +outside through the open square. It described a vanishing curve of red +light, and lay below, shining feebly in the vast darkness. Babalatchi +remained with his arm stretched out into the empty night. + +"There," he said, "you can see the white man's courtyard, Tuan, and his +house." + +"I can see nothing," answered Lingard, putting his head through the +shutter-hole. "It's too dark." + +"Wait, Tuan," urged Babalatchi. "You have been looking long at the +burning torch. You will soon see. Mind the gun, Tuan. It is loaded." + +"There is no flint in it. You could not find a fire-stone for a hundred +miles round this spot," said Lingard, testily. "Foolish thing to load +that gun." + +"I have a stone. I had it from a man wise and pious that lives in Menang +Kabau. A very pious man--very good fire. He spoke words over that stone +that make its sparks good. And the gun is good--carries straight and +far. Would carry from here to the door of the white man's house, I +believe, Tuan." + +"Tida apa. Never mind your gun," muttered Lingard, peering into the +formless darkness. "Is that the house--that black thing over there?" he +asked. + +"Yes," answered Babalatchi; "that is his house. He lives there by the +will of Abdulla, and shall live there till . . . From where you stand, +Tuan, you can look over the fence and across the courtyard straight at +the door--at the door from which he comes out every morning, looking +like a man that had seen Jehannum in his sleep." + +Lingard drew his head in. Babalatchi touched his shoulder with a groping +hand. + +"Wait a little, Tuan. Sit still. The morning is not far off now--a +morning without sun after a night without stars. But there will be light +enough to see the man who said not many days ago that he alone has made +you less than a child in Sambir." + +He felt a slight tremor under his hand, but took it off directly and +began feeling all over the lid of the chest, behind Lingard's back, for +the gun. + +"What are you at?" said Lingard, impatiently. "You do worry about that +rotten gun. You had better get a light." + +"A light! I tell you, Tuan, that the light of heaven is very near," +said Babalatchi, who had now obtained possession of the object of his +solicitude, and grasping it strongly by its long barrel, grounded the +stock at his feet. + +"Perhaps it is near," said Lingard, leaning both his elbows on the lower +cross-piece of the primitive window and looking out. "It is very black +outside yet," he remarked carelessly. + +Babalatchi fidgeted about. + +"It is not good for you to sit where you may be seen," he muttered. + +"Why not?" asked Lingard. + +"The white man sleeps, it is true," explained Babalatchi, softly; "yet +he may come out early, and he has arms." + +"Ah! he has arms?" said Lingard. + +"Yes; a short gun that fires many times--like yours here. Abdulla had to +give it to him." + +Lingard heard Babalatchi's words, but made no movement. To the old +adventurer the idea that fire arms could be dangerous in other hands +than his own did not occur readily, and certainly not in connection with +Willems. He was so busy with the thoughts about what he considered +his own sacred duty, that he could not give any consideration to the +probable actions of the man of whom he thought--as one may think of an +executed criminal--with wondering indignation tempered by scornful pity. +While he sat staring into the darkness, that every minute grew thinner +before his pensive eyes, like a dispersing mist, Willems appeared to him +as a figure belonging already wholly to the past--a figure that could +come in no way into his life again. He had made up his mind, and the +thing was as well as done. In his weary thoughts he had closed this +fatal, inexplicable, and horrible episode in his life. The worst had +happened. The coming days would see the retribution. + +He had removed an enemy once or twice before, out of his path; he had +paid off some very heavy scores a good many times. Captain Tom had been +a good friend to many: but it was generally understood, from Honolulu +round about to Diego Suarez, that Captain Tom's enmity was rather more +than any man single-handed could easily manage. He would not, as he said +often, hurt a fly as long as the fly left him alone; yet a man does not +live for years beyond the pale of civilized laws without evolving for +himself some queer notions of justice. Nobody of those he knew had ever +cared to point out to him the errors of his conceptions. + +It was not worth anybody's while to run counter to Lingard's ideas of +the fitness of things--that fact was acquired to the floating wisdom +of the South Seas, of the Eastern Archipelago, and was nowhere better +understood than in out-of-the-way nooks of the world; in those nooks +which he filled, unresisted and masterful, with the echoes of his noisy +presence. There is not much use in arguing with a man who boasts of +never having regretted a single action of his life, whose answer to a +mild criticism is a good-natured shout--"You know nothing about it. +I would do it again. Yes, sir!" His associates and his acquaintances +accepted him, his opinions, his actions like things preordained and +unchangeable; looked upon his many-sided manifestations with passive +wonder not unmixed with that admiration which is only the rightful due +of a successful man. But nobody had ever seen him in the mood he was in +now. Nobody had seen Lingard doubtful and giving way to doubt, unable to +make up his mind and unwilling to act; Lingard timid and hesitating one +minute, angry yet inactive the next; Lingard puzzled in a word, because +confronted with a situation that discomposed him by its unprovoked +malevolence, by its ghastly injustice, that to his rough but +unsophisticated palate tasted distinctly of sulphurous fumes from the +deepest hell. + +The smooth darkness filling the shutter-hole grew paler and became +blotchy with ill-defined shapes, as if a new universe was being evolved +out of sombre chaos. Then outlines came out, defining forms without any +details, indicating here a tree, there a bush; a black belt of forest +far off; the straight lines of a house, the ridge of a high roof near +by. Inside the hut, Babalatchi, who lately had been only a persuasive +voice, became a human shape leaning its chin imprudently on the muzzle +of a gun and rolling an uneasy eye over the reappearing world. The day +came rapidly, dismal and oppressed by the fog of the river and by the +heavy vapours of the sky--a day without colour and without sunshine: +incomplete, disappointing, and sad. + +Babalatchi twitched gently Lingard's sleeve, and when the old seaman +had lifted up his head interrogatively, he stretched out an arm and a +pointing forefinger towards Willems' house, now plainly visible to the +right and beyond the big tree of the courtyard. + +"Look, Tuan!" he said. "He lives there. That is the door--his door. +Through it he will appear soon, with his hair in disorder and his mouth +full of curses. That is so. He is a white man, and never satisfied. It +is in my mind he is angry even in his sleep. A dangerous man. As Tuan +may observe," he went on, obsequiously, "his door faces this opening, +where you condescend to sit, which is concealed from all eyes. Faces +it--straight--and not far. Observe, Tuan, not at all far." + +"Yes, yes; I can see. I shall see him when he wakes." + +"No doubt, Tuan. When he wakes. . . . If you remain here he can not see +you. I shall withdraw quickly and prepare my canoe myself. I am only a +poor man, and must go to Sambir to greet Lakamba when he opens his eyes. +I must bow before Abdulla who has strength--even more strength than you. +Now if you remain here, you shall easily behold the man who boasted to +Abdulla that he had been your friend, even while he prepared to fight +those who called you protector. Yes, he plotted with Abdulla for that +cursed flag. Lakamba was blind then, and I was deceived. But you, Tuan! +Remember, he deceived you more. Of that he boasted before all men." + +He leaned the gun quietly against the wall close to the window, and said +softly: "Shall I go now, Tuan? Be careful of the gun. I have put the +fire-stone in. The fire-stone of the wise man, which never fails." + +Lingard's eyes were fastened on the distant doorway. Across his line +of sight, in the grey emptiness of the courtyard, a big fruit-pigeon +flapped languidly towards the forests with a loud booming cry, like +the note of a deep gong: a brilliant bird looking in the gloom of +threatening day as black as a crow. A serried flock of white rice birds +rose above the trees with a faint scream, and hovered, swaying in a +disordered mass that suddenly scattered in all directions, as if burst +asunder by a silent explosion. Behind his back Lingard heard a shuffle +of feet--women leaving the hut. In the other courtyard a voice was heard +complaining of cold, and coming very feeble, but exceedingly distinct, +out of the vast silence of the abandoned houses and clearings. +Babalatchi coughed discreetly. From under the house the thumping of +wooden pestles husking the rice started with unexpected abruptness. The +weak but clear voice in the yard again urged, "Blow up the embers, O +brother!" Another voice answered, drawling in modulated, thin sing-song, +"Do it yourself, O shivering pig!" and the drawl of the last words +stopped short, as if the man had fallen into a deep hole. Babalatchi +coughed again a little impatiently, and said in a confidential tone-- + +"Do you think it is time for me to go, Tuan? Will you take care of my +gun, Tuan? I am a man that knows how to obey; even obey Abdulla, who has +deceived me. Nevertheless this gun carries far and true--if you would +want to know, Tuan. And I have put in a double measure of powder, and +three slugs. Yes, Tuan. Now--perhaps--I go." + +When Babalatchi commenced speaking, Lingard turned slowly round and +gazed upon him with the dull and unwilling look of a sick man waking to +another day of suffering. As the astute statesman proceeded, Lingard's +eyebrows came close, his eyes became animated, and a big vein stood out +on his forehead, accentuating a lowering frown. When speaking his last +words Babalatchi faltered, then stopped, confused, before the steady +gaze of the old seaman. + +Lingard rose. His face cleared, and he looked down at the anxious +Babalatchi with sudden benevolence. + +"So! That's what you were after," he said, laying a heavy hand on +Babalatchi's yielding shoulder. "You thought I came here to murder him. +Hey? Speak! You faithful dog of an Arab trader!" + +"And what else, Tuan?" shrieked Babalatchi, exasperated into sincerity. +"What else, Tuan! Remember what he has done; he poisoned our ears with +his talk about you. You are a man. If you did not come to kill, Tuan, +then either I am a fool or . . ." + +He paused, struck his naked breast with his open palm, and finished in a +discouraged whisper--"or, Tuan, you are." + +Lingard looked down at him with scornful serenity. After his long and +painful gropings amongst the obscure abominations of Willems' conduct, +the logical if tortuous evolutions of Babalatchi's diplomatic mind +were to him welcome as daylight. There was something at last he could +understand--the clear effect of a simple cause. He felt indulgent +towards the disappointed sage. + +"So you are angry with your friend, O one-eyed one!" he said slowly, +nodding his fierce countenance close to Babalatchi's discomfited face. +"It seems to me that you must have had much to do with what happened in +Sambir lately. Hey? You son of a burnt father." + +"May I perish under your hand, O Rajah of the sea, if my words are not +true!" said Babalatchi, with reckless excitement. "You are here in the +midst of your enemies. He the greatest. Abdulla would do nothing without +him, and I could do nothing without Abdulla. Strike me--so that you +strike all!" + +"Who are you," exclaimed Lingard contemptuously--"who are you to +dare call yourself my enemy! Dirt! Nothing! Go out first," he went on +severely. "Lakas! quick. March out!" + +He pushed Babalatchi through the doorway and followed him down the short +ladder into the courtyard. The boatmen squatting over the fire turned +their slow eyes with apparent difficulty towards the two men; then, +unconcerned, huddled close together again, stretching forlornly their +hands over the embers. The women stopped in their work and with uplifted +pestles flashed quick and curious glances from the gloom under the +house. + +"Is that the way?" asked Lingard with a nod towards the little +wicket-gate of Willems' enclosure. + +"If you seek death, that is surely the way," answered Babalatchi in a +dispassionate voice, as if he had exhausted all the emotions. "He lives +there: he who destroyed your friends; who hastened Omar's death; who +plotted with Abdulla first against you, then against me. I have been +like a child. O shame! . . . But go, Tuan. Go there." + +"I go where I like," said Lingard, emphatically, "and you may go to the +devil; I do not want you any more. The islands of these seas shall sink +before I, Rajah Laut, serve the will of any of your people. Tau? But I +tell you this: I do not care what you do with him after to-day. And I +say that because I am merciful." + +"Tida! I do nothing," said Babalatchi, shaking his head with bitter +apathy. "I am in Abdulla's hand and care not, even as you do. No! no!" +he added, turning away, "I have learned much wisdom this morning. There +are no men anywhere. You whites are cruel to your friends and merciful +to your enemies--which is the work of fools." + +He went away towards the riverside, and, without once looking back, +disappeared in the low bank of mist that lay over the water and the +shore. Lingard followed him with his eyes thoughtfully. After awhile he +roused himself and called out to his boatmen-- + +"Hai--ya there! After you have eaten rice, wait for me with your paddles +in your hands. You hear?" + +"Ada, Tuan!" answered Ali through the smoke of the morning fire that was +spreading itself, low and gentle, over the courtyard--"we hear!" + +Lingard opened slowly the little wicket-gate, made a few steps into +the empty enclosure, and stopped. He had felt about his head the short +breath of a puff of wind that passed him, made every leaf of the big +tree shiver--and died out in a hardly perceptible tremor of branches and +twigs. Instinctively he glanced upwards with a seaman's impulse. Above +him, under the grey motionless waste of a stormy sky, drifted low black +vapours, in stretching bars, in shapeless patches, in sinuous wisps and +tormented spirals. Over the courtyard and the house floated a round, +sombre, and lingering cloud, dragging behind a tail of tangled and filmy +streamers--like the dishevelled hair of a mourning woman. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +"Beware!" + +The tremulous effort and the broken, inadequate tone of the faint cry, +surprised Lingard more than the unexpected suddenness of the warning +conveyed, he did not know by whom and to whom. Besides himself there was +no one in the courtyard as far as he could see. + +The cry was not renewed, and his watchful eyes, scanning warily the +misty solitude of Willems' enclosure, were met everywhere only by the +stolid impassiveness of inanimate things: the big sombre-looking tree, +the shut-up, sightless house, the glistening bamboo fences, the damp and +drooping bushes further off--all these things, that condemned to look +for ever at the incomprehensible afflictions or joys of mankind, assert +in their aspect of cold unconcern the high dignity of lifeless matter +that surrounds, incurious and unmoved, the restless mysteries of the +ever-changing, of the never-ending life. + +Lingard, stepping aside, put the trunk of the tree between himself +and the house, then, moving cautiously round one of the projecting +buttresses, had to tread short in order to avoid scattering a small heap +of black embers upon which he came unexpectedly on the other side. A +thin, wizened, little old woman, who, standing behind the tree, had been +looking at the house, turned towards him with a start, gazed with faded, +expressionless eyes at the intruder, then made a limping attempt to get +away. She seemed, however, to realize directly the hopelessness or the +difficulty of the undertaking, stopped, hesitated, tottered back slowly; +then, after blinking dully, fell suddenly on her knees amongst the white +ashes, and, bending over the heap of smouldering coals, distended her +sunken cheeks in a steady effort to blow up the hidden sparks into a +useful blaze. Lingard looked down on her, but she seemed to have made +up her mind that there was not enough life left in her lean body for +anything else than the discharge of the simple domestic duty, and, +apparently, she begrudged him the least moment of attention. + +After waiting for awhile, Lingard asked-- + +"Why did you call, O daughter?" + +"I saw you enter," she croaked feebly, still grovelling with her +face near the ashes and without looking up, "and I called--the cry of +warning. It was her order. Her order," she repeated, with a moaning +sigh. + +"And did she hear?" pursued Lingard, with gentle composure. + +Her projecting shoulder-blades moved uneasily under the thin stuff of +the tight body jacket. She scrambled up with difficulty to her feet, +and hobbled away, muttering peevishly to herself, towards a pile of dry +brushwood heaped up against the fence. + +Lingard, looking idly after her, heard the rattle of loose planks that +led from the ground to the door of the house. He moved his head beyond +the shelter of the tree and saw Aissa coming down the inclined way into +the courtyard. After making a few hurried paces towards the tree, she +stopped with one foot advanced in an appearance of sudden terror, and +her eyes glanced wildly right and left. Her head was uncovered. A blue +cloth wrapped her from her head to foot in close slanting folds, with +one end thrown over her shoulder. A tress of her black hair strayed +across her bosom. Her bare arms pressed down close to her body, with +hands open and outstretched fingers; her slightly elevated shoulders and +the backward inclination of her torso gave her the aspect of one defiant +yet shrinking from a coming blow. She had closed the door of the house +behind her; and as she stood solitary in the unnatural and threatening +twilight of the murky day, with everything unchanged around her, she +appeared to Lingard as if she had been made there, on the spot, out +of the black vapours of the sky and of the sinister gleams of feeble +sunshine that struggled, through the thickening clouds, into the +colourless desolation of the world. + +After a short but attentive glance towards the shut-up house, Lingard +stepped out from behind the tree and advanced slowly towards her. The +sudden fixity of her--till then--restless eyes and a slight twitch of +her hands were the only signs she gave at first of having seen him. +She made a long stride forward, and putting herself right in his path, +stretched her arms across; her black eyes opened wide, her lips parted +as if in an uncertain attempt to speak--but no sound came out to break +the significant silence of their meeting. Lingard stopped and looked at +her with stern curiosity. After a while he said composedly-- + +"Let me pass. I came here to talk to a man. Does he hide? Has he sent +you?" + +She made a step nearer, her arms fell by her side, then she put them +straight out nearly touching Lingard's breast. + +"He knows not fear," she said, speaking low, with a forward throw of +her head, in a voice trembling but distinct. "It is my own fear that has +sent me here. He sleeps." + +"He has slept long enough," said Lingard, in measured tones. "I am +come--and now is the time of his waking. Go and tell him this--or else +my own voice will call him up. A voice he knows well." + +He put her hands down firmly and again made as if to pass by her. + +"Do not!" she exclaimed, and fell at his feet as if she had been cut +down by a scythe. The unexpected suddenness of her movement startled +Lingard, who stepped back. + +"What's this?" he exclaimed in a wondering whisper--then added in a tone +of sharp command: "Stand up!" + +She rose at once and stood looking at him, timorous and fearless; yet +with a fire of recklessness burning in her eyes that made clear her +resolve to pursue her purpose even to the death. Lingard went on in a +severe voice-- + +"Go out of my path. You are Omar's daughter, and you ought to know that +when men meet in daylight women must be silent and abide their fate." + +"Women!" she retorted, with subdued vehemence. "Yes, I am a woman! +Your eyes see that, O Rajah Laut, but can you see my life? I also have +heard--O man of many fights--I also have heard the voice of fire-arms; +I also have felt the rain of young twigs and of leaves cut up by bullets +fall down about my head; I also know how to look in silence at angry +faces and at strong hands raised high grasping sharp steel. I also saw +men fall dead around me without a cry of fear and of mourning; and I +have watched the sleep of weary fugitives, and looked at night shadows +full of menace and death with eyes that knew nothing but watchfulness. +And," she went on, with a mournful drop in her voice, "I have faced the +heartless sea, held on my lap the heads of those who died raving from +thirst, and from their cold hands took the paddle and worked so that +those with me did not know that one man more was dead. I did all this. +What more have you done? That was my life. What has been yours?" + +The matter and the manner of her speech held Lingard motionless, +attentive and approving against his will. She ceased speaking, and from +her staring black eyes with a narrow border of white above and below, a +double ray of her very soul streamed out in a fierce desire to light +up the most obscure designs of his heart. After a long silence, which +served to emphasize the meaning of her words, she added in the whisper +of bitter regret-- + +"And I have knelt at your feet! And I am afraid!" + +"You," said Lingard deliberately, and returning her look with an +interested gaze, "you are a woman whose heart, I believe, is great +enough to fill a man's breast: but still you are a woman, and to you, I, +Rajah Laut, have nothing to say." + +She listened bending her head in a movement of forced attention; and his +voice sounded to her unexpected, far off, with the distant and unearthly +ring of voices that we hear in dreams, saying faintly things startling, +cruel or absurd, to which there is no possible reply. To her he had +nothing to say! She wrung her hands, glanced over the courtyard with +that eager and distracted look that sees nothing, then looked up at the +hopeless sky of livid grey and drifting black; at the unquiet mourning +of the hot and brilliant heaven that had seen the beginning of her love, +that had heard his entreaties and her answers, that had seen his desire +and her fear; that had seen her joy, her surrender--and his defeat. +Lingard moved a little, and this slight stir near her precipitated her +disordered and shapeless thoughts into hurried words. + +"Wait!" she exclaimed in a stifled voice, and went on disconnectedly and +rapidly--"Stay. I have heard. Men often spoke by the fires . . . men of +my people. And they said of you--the first on the sea--they said that to +men's cries you were deaf in battle, but after . . . No! even while you +fought, your ears were open to the voice of children and women. They +said . . . that. Now I, a woman, I . . ." + +She broke off suddenly and stood before him with dropped eyelids and +parted lips, so still now that she seemed to have been changed into a +breathless, an unhearing, an unseeing figure, without knowledge of fear +or hope, of anger or despair. In the astounding repose that came on +her face, nothing moved but the delicate nostrils that expanded and +collapsed quickly, flutteringly, in interrupted beats, like the wings of +a snared bird. + +"I am white," said Lingard, proudly, looking at her with a steady gaze +where simple curiosity was giving way to a pitying annoyance, "and men +you have heard, spoke only what is true over the evening fires. My ears +are open to your prayer. But listen to me before you speak. For yourself +you need not be afraid. You can come even now with me and you shall find +refuge in the household of Syed Abdulla--who is of your own faith. And +this also you must know: nothing that you may say will change my purpose +towards the man who is sleeping--or hiding--in that house." + +Again she gave him the look that was like a stab, not of anger but of +desire; of the intense, over-powering desire to see in, to see through, +to understand everything: every thought, emotion, purpose; every +impulse, every hesitation inside that man; inside that white-clad +foreign being who looked at her, who spoke to her, who breathed +before her like any other man, but bigger, red-faced, white-haired and +mysterious. It was the future clothed in flesh; the to-morrow; the day +after; all the days, all the years of her life standing there before her +alive and secret, with all their good or evil shut up within the breast +of that man; of that man who could be persuaded, cajoled, entreated, +perhaps touched, worried; frightened--who knows?--if only first he could +be understood! She had seen a long time ago whither events were tending. +She had noted the contemptuous yet menacing coldness of Abdulla; she +had heard--alarmed yet unbelieving--Babalatchi's gloomy hints, covert +allusions and veiled suggestions to abandon the useless white man whose +fate would be the price of the peace secured by the wise and good who +had no need of him any more. And he--himself! She clung to him. There +was nobody else. Nothing else. She would try to cling to him always--all +the life! And yet he was far from her. Further every day. Every day he +seemed more distant, and she followed him patiently, hopefully, blindly, +but steadily, through all the devious wanderings of his mind. She +followed as well as she could. Yet at times--very often lately--she had +felt lost like one strayed in the thickets of tangled undergrowth of a +great forest. To her the ex-clerk of old Hudig appeared as remote, as +brilliant, as terrible, as necessary, as the sun that gives life to +these lands: the sun of unclouded skies that dazzles and withers; the +sun beneficent and wicked--the giver of light, perfume, and pestilence. +She had watched him--watched him close; fascinated by love, fascinated +by danger. He was alone now--but for her; and she saw--she thought she +saw--that he was like a man afraid of something. Was it possible? He +afraid? Of what? Was it of that old white man who was coming--who had +come? Possibly. She had heard of that man ever since she could remember. +The bravest were afraid of him! And now what was in the mind of this +old, old man who looked so strong? What was he going to do with the +light of her life? Put it out? Take it away? Take it away for ever!--for +ever!--and leave her in darkness:--not in the stirring, whispering, +expectant night in which the hushed world awaits the return of sunshine; +but in the night without end, the night of the grave, where nothing +breathes, nothing moves, nothing thinks--the last darkness of cold and +silence without hope of another sunrise. + +She cried--"Your purpose! You know nothing. I must . . ." + +He interrupted--unreasonably excited, as if she had, by her look, +inoculated him with some of her own distress. + +"I know enough." + +She approached, and stood facing him at arm's length, with both her +hands on his shoulders; and he, surprised by that audacity, closed and +opened his eyes two or three times, aware of some emotion arising +within him, from her words, her tone, her contact; an emotion unknown, +singular, penetrating and sad--at the close sight of that strange +woman, of that being savage and tender, strong and delicate, fearful and +resolute, that had got entangled so fatally between their two lives--his +own and that other white man's, the abominable scoundrel. + +"How can you know?" she went on, in a persuasive tone that seemed to +flow out of her very heart--"how can you know? I live with him all +the days. All the nights. I look at him; I see his every breath, every +glance of his eye, every movement of his lips. I see nothing else! +What else is there? And even I do not understand. I do not understand +him!--Him!--My life! Him who to me is so great that his presence hides +the earth and the water from my sight!" + +Lingard stood straight, with his hands deep in the pockets of his +jacket. His eyes winked quickly, because she spoke very close to his +face. She disturbed him and he had a sense of the efforts he was making +to get hold of her meaning, while all the time he could not help telling +himself that all this was of no use. + +She added after a pause--"There has been a time when I could understand +him. When I knew what was in his mind better than he knew it himself. +When I felt him. When I held him. . . . And now he has escaped." + +"Escaped? What? Gone away!" shouted Lingard. + +"Escaped from me," she said; "left me alone. Alone. And I am ever near +him. Yet alone." + +Her hands slipped slowly off Lingard's shoulders and her arms fell +by her side, listless, discouraged, as if to her--to her, the savage, +violent, and ignorant creature--had been revealed clearly in that moment +the tremendous fact of our isolation, of the loneliness impenetrable and +transparent, elusive and everlasting; of the indestructible loneliness +that surrounds, envelopes, clothes every human soul from the cradle to +the grave, and, perhaps, beyond. + +"Aye! Very well! I understand. His face is turned away from you," said +Lingard. "Now, what do you want?" + +"I want . . . I have looked--for help . . . everywhere . . . against +men. . . . All men . . . I do not know. First they came, the invisible +whites, and dealt death from afar . . . then he came. He came to me who +was alone and sad. He came; angry with his brothers; great amongst his +own people; angry with those I have not seen: with the people where men +have no mercy and women have no shame. He was of them, and great amongst +them. For he was great?" + +Lingard shook his head slightly. She frowned at him, and went on in +disordered haste-- + +"Listen. I saw him. I have lived by the side of brave men . . . of +chiefs. When he came I was the daughter of a beggar--of a blind man +without strength and hope. He spoke to me as if I had been brighter than +the sunshine--more delightful than the cool water of the brook by which +we met--more . . ." Her anxious eyes saw some shade of expression pass +on her listener's face that made her hold her breath for a second, and +then explode into pained fury so violent that it drove Lingard back +a pace, like an unexpected blast of wind. He lifted both his hands, +incongruously paternal in his venerable aspect, bewildered and soothing, +while she stretched her neck forward and shouted at him. + +"I tell you I was all that to him. I know it! I saw it! . . . There are +times when even you white men speak the truth. I saw his eyes. I +felt his eyes, I tell you! I saw him tremble when I came near--when I +spoke--when I touched him. Look at me! You have been young. Look at me. +Look, Rajah Laut!" + +She stared at Lingard with provoking fixity, then, turning her head +quickly, she sent over her shoulder a glance, full of humble fear, at +the house that stood high behind her back--dark, closed, rickety and +silent on its crooked posts. + +Lingard's eyes followed her look, and remained gazing expectantly at the +house. After a minute or so he muttered, glancing at her suspiciously-- + +"If he has not heard your voice now, then he must be far away--or dead." + +"He is there," she whispered, a little calmed but still anxious--"he +is there. For three days he waited. Waited for you night and day. And +I waited with him. I waited, watching his face, his eyes, his lips; +listening to his words.--To the words I could not understand.--To the +words he spoke in daylight; to the words he spoke at night in his short +sleep. I listened. He spoke to himself walking up and down here--by the +river; by the bushes. And I followed. I wanted to know--and I could not! +He was tormented by things that made him speak in the words of his own +people. Speak to himself--not to me. Not to me! What was he saying? What +was he going to do? Was he afraid of you?--Of death? What was in +his heart? . . . Fear? . . . Or anger? . . . what desire? . . . what +sadness? He spoke; spoke; many words. All the time! And I could not +know! I wanted to speak to him. He was deaf to me. I followed him +everywhere, watching for some word I could understand; but his mind +was in the land of his people--away from me. When I touched him he was +angry--so!" + +She imitated the movement of some one shaking off roughly an importunate +hand, and looked at Lingard with tearful and unsteady eyes. + +After a short interval of laboured panting, as if she had been out of +breath with running or fighting, she looked down and went on-- + +"Day after day, night after night, I lived watching him--seeing nothing. +And my heart was heavy--heavy with the presence of death that dwelt +amongst us. I could not believe. I thought he was afraid. Afraid of you! +Then I, myself, knew fear. . . . Tell me, Rajah Laut, do you know the +fear without voice--the fear of silence--the fear that comes when there +is no one near--when there is no battle, no cries, no angry faces or +armed hands anywhere? . . . The fear from which there is no escape!" + +She paused, fastened her eyes again on the puzzled Lingard, and hurried +on in a tone of despair-- + +"And I knew then he would not fight you! Before--many days ago--I went +away twice to make him obey my desire; to make him strike at his own +people so that he could be mine--mine! O calamity! His hand was false as +your white hearts. It struck forward, pushed by my desire--by his +desire of me. . . . It struck that strong hand, and--O shame!--it killed +nobody! Its fierce and lying blow woke up hate without any fear. Round +me all was lies. His strength was a lie. My own people lied to me and to +him. And to meet you--you, the great!--he had no one but me? But me +with my rage, my pain, my weakness. Only me! And to me he would not even +speak. The fool!" + +She came up close to Lingard, with the wild and stealthy aspect of a +lunatic longing to whisper out an insane secret--one of those misshapen, +heart-rending, and ludicrous secrets; one of those thoughts that, like +monsters--cruel, fantastic, and mournful, wander about terrible and +unceasing in the night of madness. Lingard looked at her, astounded but +unflinching. She spoke in his face, very low. + +"He is all! Everything. He is my breath, my light, my heart. . . . Go +away. . . . Forget him. . . . He has no courage and no wisdom any more +. . . and I have lost my power. . . . Go away and forget. There are other +enemies. . . . Leave him to me. He had been a man once. . . . You are +too great. Nobody can withstand you. . . . I tried. . . . I know now +. . . . I cry for mercy. Leave him to me and go away." + +The fragments of her supplicating sentences were as if tossed on the +crest of her sobs. Lingard, outwardly impassive, with his eyes fixed +on the house, experienced that feeling of condemnation, deep-seated, +persuasive, and masterful; that illogical impulse of disapproval which +is half disgust, half vague fear, and that wakes up in our hearts in the +presence of anything new or unusual, of anything that is not run +into the mould of our own conscience; the accursed feeling made up of +disdain, of anger, and of the sense of superior virtue that leaves us +deaf, blind, contemptuous and stupid before anything which is not like +ourselves. + +He answered, not looking at her at first, but speaking towards the house +that fascinated him-- + +"_I_ go away! He wanted me to come--he himself did! . . . _You_ must go +away. You do not know what you are asking for. Listen. Go to your own +people. Leave him. He is . . ." + +He paused, looked down at her with his steady eyes; hesitated, as if +seeking an adequate expression; then snapped his fingers, and said-- + +"Finish." + +She stepped back, her eyes on the ground, and pressed her temples +with both her hands, which she raised to her head in a slow and ample +movement full of unconscious tragedy. The tone of her words was gentle +and vibrating, like a loud meditation. She said-- + +"Tell the brook not to run to the river; tell the river not to run to +the sea. Speak loud. Speak angrily. Maybe they will obey you. But it is +in my mind that the brook will not care. The brook that springs out of +the hillside and runs to the great river. He would not care for your +words: he that cares not for the very mountain that gave him life; he +that tears the earth from which he springs. Tears it, eats it, destroys +it--to hurry faster to the river--to the river in which he is lost for +ever. . . . O Rajah Laut! I do not care." + +She drew close again to Lingard, approaching slowly, reluctantly, as if +pushed by an invisible hand, and added in words that seemed to be torn +out of her-- + +"I cared not for my own father. For him that died. I would have rather +. . . You do not know what I have done . . . I . . ." + +"You shall have his life," said Lingard, hastily. + +They stood together, crossing their glances; she suddenly appeased, and +Lingard thoughtful and uneasy under a vague sense of defeat. And yet +there was no defeat. He never intended to kill the fellow--not after the +first moment of anger, a long time ago. The days of bitter wonder had +killed anger; had left only a bitter indignation and a bitter wish for +complete justice. He felt discontented and surprised. Unexpectedly he +had come upon a human being--a woman at that--who had made him disclose +his will before its time. She should have his life. But she must be +told, she must know, that for such men as Willems there was no favour +and no grace. + +"Understand," he said slowly, "that I leave him his life not in mercy +but in punishment." + +She started, watched every word on his lips, and after he finished +speaking she remained still and mute in astonished immobility. A +single big drop of rain, a drop enormous, pellucid and heavy--like a +super-human tear coming straight and rapid from above, tearing its way +through the sombre sky--struck loudly the dry ground between them in a +starred splash. She wrung her hands in the bewilderment of the new and +incomprehensible fear. The anguish of her whisper was more piercing than +the shrillest cry. + +"What punishment! Will you take him away then? Away from me? Listen to +what I have done. . . . It is I who . . ." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Lingard, who had been looking at the house. + +"Don't you believe her, Captain Lingard," shouted Willems from the +doorway, where he appeared with swollen eyelids and bared breast. He +stood for a while, his hands grasping the lintels on each side of the +door, and writhed about, glaring wildly, as if he had been crucified +there. Then he made a sudden rush head foremost down the plankway that +responded with hollow, short noises to every footstep. + +She heard him. A slight thrill passed on her face and the words that +were on her lips fell back unspoken into her benighted heart; fell back +amongst the mud, the stones--and the flowers, that are at the bottom of +every heart. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +When he felt the solid ground of the courtyard under his feet, Willems +pulled himself up in his headlong rush and moved forward with a moderate +gait. He paced stiffly, looking with extreme exactitude at Lingard's +face; looking neither to the right nor to the left but at the face only, +as if there was nothing in the world but those features familiar and +dreaded; that white-haired, rough and severe head upon which he gazed in +a fixed effort of his eyes, like a man trying to read small print at +the full range of human vision. As soon as Willems' feet had left the +planks, the silence which had been lifted up by the jerky rattle of his +footsteps fell down again upon the courtyard; the silence of the cloudy +sky and of the windless air, the sullen silence of the earth oppressed +by the aspect of coming turmoil, the silence of the world collecting its +faculties to withstand the storm. Through this silence Willems pushed +his way, and stopped about six feet from Lingard. He stopped simply +because he could go no further. He had started from the door with the +reckless purpose of clapping the old fellow on the shoulder. He had +no idea that the man would turn out to be so tall, so big and so +unapproachable. It seemed to him that he had never, never in his life, +seen Lingard. + +He tried to say-- + +"Do not believe . . ." + +A fit of coughing checked his sentence in a faint splutter. Directly +afterwards he swallowed--as it were--a couple of pebbles, throwing his +chin up in the act; and Lingard, who looked at him narrowly, saw a bone, +sharp and triangular like the head of a snake, dart up and down twice +under the skin of his throat. Then that, too, did not move. Nothing +moved. + +"Well," said Lingard, and with that word he came unexpectedly to the end +of his speech. His hand in his pocket closed firmly round the butt of +his revolver bulging his jacket on the hip, and he thought how soon and +how quickly he could terminate his quarrel with that man who had been so +anxious to deliver himself into his hands--and how inadequate would be +that ending! He could not bear the idea of that man escaping from him by +going out of life; escaping from fear, from doubt, from remorse into the +peaceful certitude of death. He held him now. And he was not going to +let him go--to let him disappear for ever in the faint blue smoke of a +pistol shot. His anger grew within him. He felt a touch as of a burning +hand on his heart. Not on the flesh of his breast, but a touch on his +heart itself, on the palpitating and untiring particle of matter that +responds to every emotion of the soul; that leaps with joy, with terror, +or with anger. + +He drew a long breath. He could see before him the bare chest of the man +expanding and collapsing under the wide-open jacket. He glanced +aside, and saw the bosom of the woman near him rise and fall in quick +respirations that moved slightly up and down her hand, which was pressed +to her breast with all the fingers spread out and a little curved, as if +grasping something too big for its span. And nearly a minute passed. One +of those minutes when the voice is silenced, while the thoughts flutter +in the head, like captive birds inside a cage, in rushes desperate, +exhausting and vain. + +During that minute of silence Lingard's anger kept rising, immense and +towering, such as a crested wave running over the troubled shallows of +the sands. Its roar filled his cars; a roar so powerful and distracting +that, it seemed to him, his head must burst directly with the expanding +volume of that sound. He looked at that man. That infamous figure +upright on its feet, still, rigid, with stony eyes, as if its rotten +soul had departed that moment and the carcass hadn't had the time yet +to topple over. For the fraction of a second he had the illusion and the +fear of the scoundrel having died there before the enraged glance of his +eyes. Willems' eyelids fluttered, and the unconscious and passing tremor +in that stiffly erect body exasperated Lingard like a fresh outrage. The +fellow dared to stir! Dared to wink, to breathe, to exist; here, right +before his eyes! His grip on the revolver relaxed gradually. As +the transport of his rage increased, so also his contempt for the +instruments that pierce or stab, that interpose themselves between the +hand and the object of hate. He wanted another kind of satisfaction. +Naked hands, by heaven! No firearms. Hands that could take him by the +throat, beat down his defence, batter his face into shapeless flesh; +hands that could feel all the desperation of his resistance and +overpower it in the violent delight of a contact lingering and furious, +intimate and brutal. + +He let go the revolver altogether, stood hesitating, then throwing his +hands out, strode forward--and everything passed from his sight. He +could not see the man, the woman, the earth, the sky--saw nothing, as if +in that one stride he had left the visible world behind to step into a +black and deserted space. He heard screams round him in that obscurity, +screams like the melancholy and pitiful cries of sea-birds that dwell on +the lonely reefs of great oceans. Then suddenly a face appeared within a +few inches of his own. His face. He felt something in his left hand. His +throat . . . Ah! the thing like a snake's head that darts up and down +. . . He squeezed hard. He was back in the world. He could see the quick +beating of eyelids over a pair of eyes that were all whites, the grin of +a drawn-up lip, a row of teeth gleaming through the drooping hair of a +moustache . . . Strong white teeth. Knock them down his lying throat +. . . He drew back his right hand, the fist up to the shoulder, knuckles +out. From under his feet rose the screams of sea-birds. Thousands of +them. Something held his legs . . . What the devil . . . He delivered +his blow straight from the shoulder, felt the jar right up his arm, +and realized suddenly that he was striking something passive and +unresisting. His heart sank within him with disappointment, with rage, +with mortification. He pushed with his left arm, opening the hand with +haste, as if he had just perceived that he got hold by accident +of something repulsive--and he watched with stupefied eyes Willems +tottering backwards in groping strides, the white sleeve of his jacket +across his face. He watched his distance from that man increase, while +he remained motionless, without being able to account to himself for the +fact that so much empty space had come in between them. It should have +been the other way. They ought to have been very close, and . . . Ah! He +wouldn't fight, he wouldn't resist, he wouldn't defend himself! A +cur! Evidently a cur! . . . He was amazed and aggrieved--profoundly, +bitterly--with the immense and blank desolation of a small child robbed +of a toy. He shouted--unbelieving: + +"Will you be a cheat to the end?" + +He waited for some answer. He waited anxiously with an impatience that +seemed to lift him off his feet. He waited for some word, some sign; +for some threatening stir. Nothing! Only two unwinking eyes glittered +intently at him above the white sleeve. He saw the raised arm detach +itself from the face and sink along the body. A white clad arm, with +a big stain on the white sleeve. A red stain. There was a cut on +the cheek. It bled. The nose bled too. The blood ran down, made one +moustache look like a dark rag stuck over the lip, and went on in a wet +streak down the clipped beard on one side of the chin. A drop of blood +hung on the end of some hairs that were glued together; it hung for a +while and took a leap down on the ground. Many more followed, leaping +one after another in close file. One alighted on the breast and glided +down instantly with devious vivacity, like a small insect running away; +it left a narrow dark track on the white skin. He looked at it, looked +at the tiny and active drops, looked at what he had done, with obscure +satisfaction, with anger, with regret. This wasn't much like an act of +justice. He had a desire to go up nearer to the man, to hear him speak, +to hear him say something atrocious and wicked that would justify the +violence of the blow. He made an attempt to move, and became aware of a +close embrace round both his legs, just above the ankles. Instinctively, +he kicked out with his foot, broke through the close bond and felt at +once the clasp transferred to his other leg; the clasp warm, desperate +and soft, of human arms. He looked down bewildered. He saw the body of +the woman stretched at length, flattened on the ground like a dark blue +rag. She trailed face downwards, clinging to his leg with both arms in a +tenacious hug. He saw the top of her head, the long black hair streaming +over his foot, all over the beaten earth, around his boot. He couldn't +see his foot for it. He heard the short and repeated moaning of her +breath. He imagined the invisible face close to his heel. With one kick +into that face he could free himself. He dared not stir, and shouted +down-- + +"Let go! Let go! Let go!" + +The only result of his shouting was a tightening of the pressure of her +arms. With a tremendous effort he tried to bring his right foot up to +his left, and succeeded partly. He heard distinctly the rub of her body +on the ground as he jerked her along. He tried to disengage himself by +drawing up his foot. He stamped. He heard a voice saying sharply-- + +"Steady, Captain Lingard, steady!" + +His eyes flew back to Willems at the sound of that voice, and, in the +quick awakening of sleeping memories, Lingard stood suddenly still, +appeased by the clear ring of familiar words. Appeased as in days of +old, when they were trading together, when Willems was his trusted and +helpful companion in out-of-the-way and dangerous places; when that +fellow, who could keep his temper so much better than he could himself, +had spared him many a difficulty, had saved him from many an act of +hasty violence by the timely and good-humoured warning, whispered or +shouted, "Steady, Captain Lingard, steady." A smart fellow. He had +brought him up. The smartest fellow in the islands. If he had only +stayed with him, then all this . . . He called out to Willems-- + +"Tell her to let me go or . . ." + +He heard Willems shouting something, waited for awhile, then glanced +vaguely down and saw the woman still stretched out perfectly mute and +unstirring, with her head at his feet. He felt a nervous impatience +that, somehow, resembled fear. + +"Tell her to let go, to go away, Willems, I tell you. I've had enough of +this," he cried. + +"All right, Captain Lingard," answered the calm voice of Willems, "she +has let go. Take your foot off her hair; she can't get up." + +Lingard leaped aside, clean away, and spun round quickly. He saw her sit +up and cover her face with both hands, then he turned slowly on his +heel and looked at the man. Willems held himself very straight, but was +unsteady on his feet, and moved about nearly on the same spot, like a +tipsy man attempting to preserve his balance. After gazing at him for a +while, Lingard called, rancorous and irritable-- + +"What have you got to say for yourself?" + +Willems began to walk towards him. He walked slowly, reeling a little +before he took each step, and Lingard saw him put his hand to his face, +then look at it holding it up to his eyes, as if he had there, concealed +in the hollow of the palm, some small object which he wanted to examine +secretly. Suddenly he drew it, with a brusque movement, down the front +of his jacket and left a long smudge. + +"That's a fine thing to do," said Willems. + +He stood in front of Lingard, one of his eyes sunk deep in the +increasing swelling of his cheek, still repeating mechanically the +movement of feeling his damaged face; and every time he did this he +pressed the palm to some clean spot on his jacket, covering the white +cotton with bloody imprints as of some deformed and monstrous hand. +Lingard said nothing, looking on. At last Willems left off staunching +the blood and stood, his arms hanging by his side, with his face stiff +and distorted under the patches of coagulated blood; and he seemed +as though he had been set up there for a warning: an incomprehensible +figure marked all over with some awful and symbolic signs of deadly +import. Speaking with difficulty, he repeated in a reproachful tone-- + +"That was a fine thing to do." + +"After all," answered Lingard, bitterly, "I had too good an opinion of +you." + +"And I of you. Don't you see that I could have had that fool over there +killed and the whole thing burnt to the ground, swept off the face of +the earth. You wouldn't have found as much as a heap of ashes had I +liked. I could have done all that. And I wouldn't." + +"You--could--not. You dared not. You scoundrel!" cried Lingard. + +"What's the use of calling me names?" + +"True," retorted Lingard--"there's no name bad enough for you." + +There was a short interval of silence. At the sound of their rapidly +exchanged words, Aissa had got up from the ground where she had been +sitting, in a sorrowful and dejected pose, and approached the two men. +She stood on one side and looked on eagerly, in a desperate effort of +her brain, with the quick and distracted eyes of a person trying for her +life to penetrate the meaning of sentences uttered in a foreign +tongue: the meaning portentous and fateful that lurks in the sounds of +mysterious words; in the sounds surprising, unknown and strange. + +Willems let the last speech of Lingard pass by; seemed by a slight +movement of his hand to help it on its way to join the other shadows of +the past. Then he said-- + +"You have struck me; you have insulted me . . ." + +"Insulted you!" interrupted Lingard, passionately. "Who--what can insult +you . . . you . . ." + +He choked, advanced a step. + +"Steady! steady!" said Willems calmly. "I tell you I sha'n't fight. Is +it clear enough to you that I sha'n't? I--shall--not--lift--a--finger." + +As he spoke, slowly punctuating each word with a slight jerk of his +head, he stared at Lingard, his right eye open and big, the left small +and nearly closed by the swelling of one half of his face, that appeared +all drawn out on one side like faces seen in a concave glass. And they +stood exactly opposite each other: one tall, slight and disfigured; the +other tall, heavy and severe. + +Willems went on-- + +"If I had wanted to hurt you--if I had wanted to destroy you, it was +easy. I stood in the doorway long enough to pull a trigger--and you know +I shoot straight." + +"You would have missed," said Lingard, with assurance. "There is, under +heaven, such a thing as justice." + +The sound of that word on his own lips made him pause, confused, like an +unexpected and unanswerable rebuke. The anger of his outraged pride, +the anger of his outraged heart, had gone out in the blow; and there +remained nothing but the sense of some immense infamy--of something +vague, disgusting and terrible, which seemed to surround him on all +sides, hover about him with shadowy and stealthy movements, like a band +of assassins in the darkness of vast and unsafe places. Was there, under +heaven, such a thing as justice? He looked at the man before him with +such an intensity of prolonged glance that he seemed to see right +through him, that at last he saw but a floating and unsteady mist in +human shape. Would it blow away before the first breath of the breeze +and leave nothing behind? + +The sound of Willems' voice made him start violently. Willems was +saying-- + +"I have always led a virtuous life; you know I have. You always praised +me for my steadiness; you know you have. You know also I never stole--if +that's what you're thinking of. I borrowed. You know how much I repaid. +It was an error of judgment. But then consider my position there. I had +been a little unlucky in my private affairs, and had debts. Could I +let myself go under before the eyes of all those men who envied me? But +that's all over. It was an error of judgment. I've paid for it. An error +of judgment." + +Lingard, astounded into perfect stillness, looked down. He looked down +at Willems' bare feet. Then, as the other had paused, he repeated in a +blank tone-- + +"An error of judgment . . ." + +"Yes," drawled out Willems, thoughtfully, and went on with increasing +animation: "As I said, I have always led a virtuous life. More so than +Hudig--than you. Yes, than you. I drank a little, I played cards a +little. Who doesn't? But I had principles from a boy. Yes, principles. +Business is business, and I never was an ass. I never respected fools. +They had to suffer for their folly when they dealt with me. The evil was +in them, not in me. But as to principles, it's another matter. I kept +clear of women. It's forbidden--I had no time--and I despised them. Now +I hate them!" + +He put his tongue out a little; a tongue whose pink and moist end ran +here and there, like something independently alive, under his swollen +and blackened lip; he touched with the tips of his fingers the cut on +his cheek, felt all round it with precaution: and the unharmed side of +his face appeared for a moment to be preoccupied and uneasy about the +state of that other side which was so very sore and stiff. + +He recommenced speaking, and his voice vibrated as though with repressed +emotion of some kind. + +"You ask my wife, when you see her in Macassar, whether I have no reason +to hate her. She was nobody, and I made her Mrs. Willems. A half-caste +girl! You ask her how she showed her gratitude to me. You ask . . . +Never mind that. Well, you came and dumped me here like a load of +rubbish; dumped me here and left me with nothing to do--nothing good to +remember--and damn little to hope for. You left me here at the mercy of +that fool, Almayer, who suspected me of something. Of what? Devil only +knows. But he suspected and hated me from the first; I suppose because +you befriended me. Oh! I could read him like a book. He isn't very +deep, your Sambir partner, Captain Lingard, but he knows how to be +disagreeable. Months passed. I thought I would die of sheer weariness, +of my thoughts, of my regrets And then . . ." + +He made a quick step nearer to Lingard, and as if moved by the same +thought, by the same instinct, by the impulse of his will, Aissa also +stepped nearer to them. They stood in a close group, and the two men +could feel the calm air between their faces stirred by the light breath +of the anxious woman who enveloped them both in the uncomprehending, in +the despairing and wondering glances of her wild and mournful eyes. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +Willems turned a little from her and spoke lower. + +"Look at that," he said, with an almost imperceptible movement of his +head towards the woman to whom he was presenting his shoulder. "Look at +that! Don't believe her! What has she been saying to you? What? I have +been asleep. Had to sleep at last. I've been waiting for you three days +and nights. I had to sleep some time. Hadn't I? I told her to remain +awake and watch for you, and call me at once. She did watch. You can't +believe her. You can't believe any woman. Who can tell what's inside +their heads? No one. You can know nothing. The only thing you can know +is that it isn't anything like what comes through their lips. They live +by the side of you. They seem to hate you, or they seem to love you; +they caress or torment you; they throw you over or stick to you closer +than your skin for some inscrutable and awful reason of their own--which +you can never know! Look at her--and look at me. At me!--her infernal +work. What has she been saying?" + +His voice had sunk to a whisper. Lingard listened with great attention, +holding his chin in his hand, which grasped a great handful of his white +beard. His elbow was in the palm of his other hand, and his eyes were +still fixed on the ground. He murmured, without looking up-- + +"She begged me for your life--if you want to know--as if the thing were +worth giving or taking!" + +"And for three days she begged me to take yours," said Willems quickly. +"For three days she wouldn't give me any peace. She was never still. She +planned ambushes. She has been looking for places all over here where I +could hide and drop you with a safe shot as you walked up. It's true. I +give you my word." + +"Your word," muttered Lingard, contemptuously. + +Willems took no notice. + +"Ah! She is a ferocious creature," he went on. "You don't know . . . +I wanted to pass the time--to do something--to have something to think +about--to forget my troubles till you came back. And . . . look at her +. . . she took me as if I did not belong to myself. She did. I did not +know there was something in me she could get hold of. She, a savage. +I, a civilized European, and clever! She that knew no more than a wild +animal! Well, she found out something in me. She found it out, and I +was lost. I knew it. She tormented me. I was ready to do anything. I +resisted--but I was ready. I knew that too. That frightened me more than +anything; more than my own sufferings; and that was frightful enough, I +assure you." + +Lingard listened, fascinated and amazed like a child listening to a +fairy tale, and, when Willems stopped for breath, he shuffled his feet a +little. + +"What does he say?" cried out Aissa, suddenly. + +The two men looked at her quickly, and then looked at one another. + +Willems began again, speaking hurriedly-- + +"I tried to do something. Take her away from those people. I went +to Almayer; the biggest blind fool that you ever . . . Then Abdulla +came--and she went away. She took away with her something of me which I +had to get back. I had to do it. As far as you are concerned, the change +here had to happen sooner or later; you couldn't be master here for +ever. It isn't what I have done that torments me. It is the why. It's +the madness that drove me to it. It's that thing that came over me. That +may come again, some day." + +"It will do no harm to anybody then, I promise you," said Lingard, +significantly. + +Willems looked at him for a second with a blank stare, then went on-- + +"I fought against her. She goaded me to violence and to murder. Nobody +knows why. She pushed me to it persistently, desperately, all the time. +Fortunately Abdulla had sense. I don't know what I wouldn't have done. +She held me then. Held me like a nightmare that is terrible and sweet. +By and by it was another life. I woke up. I found myself beside an +animal as full of harm as a wild cat. You don't know through what I have +passed. Her father tried to kill me--and she very nearly killed him. +I believe she would have stuck at nothing. I don't know which was more +terrible! She would have stuck at nothing to defend her own. And when +I think that it was me--me--Willems . . . I hate her. To-morrow she +may want my life. How can I know what's in her? She may want to kill me +next!" + +He paused in great trepidation, then added in a scared tone-- + +"I don't want to die here." + +"Don't you?" said Lingard, thoughtfully. + +Willems turned towards Aissa and pointed at her with a bony forefinger. + +"Look at her! Always there. Always near. Always watching, watching . . . +for something. Look at her eyes. Ain't they big? Don't they stare? You +wouldn't think she can shut them like human beings do. I don't believe +she ever does. I go to sleep, if I can, under their stare, and when I +wake up I see them fixed on me and moving no more than the eyes of a +corpse. While I am still they are still. By God--she can't move them +till I stir, and then they follow me like a pair of jailers. They watch +me; when I stop they seem to wait patient and glistening till I am off +my guard--for to do something. To do something horrible. Look at them! +You can see nothing in them. They are big, menacing--and empty. The eyes +of a savage; of a damned mongrel, half-Arab, half-Malay. They hurt me! +I am white! I swear to you I can't stand this! Take me away. I am white! +All white!" + +He shouted towards the sombre heaven, proclaiming desperately under the +frown of thickening clouds the fact of his pure and superior descent. +He shouted, his head thrown up, his arms swinging about wildly; lean, +ragged, disfigured; a tall madman making a great disturbance about +something invisible; a being absurd, repulsive, pathetic, and droll. +Lingard, who was looking down as if absorbed in deep thought, gave him a +quick glance from under his eyebrows: Aissa stood with clasped hands. At +the other end of the courtyard the old woman, like a vague and decrepit +apparition, rose noiselessly to look, then sank down again with a +stealthy movement and crouched low over the small glow of the fire. +Willems' voice filled the enclosure, rising louder with every word, and +then, suddenly, at its very loudest, stopped short--like water stops +running from an over-turned vessel. As soon as it had ceased the thunder +seemed to take up the burden in a low growl coming from the inland +hills. The noise approached in confused mutterings which kept on +increasing, swelling into a roar that came nearer, rushed down the +river, passed close in a tearing crash--and instantly sounded faint, +dying away in monotonous and dull repetitions amongst the endless +sinuosities of the lower reaches. Over the great forests, over all the +innumerable people of unstirring trees--over all that living people +immense, motionless, and mute--the silence, that had rushed in on the +track of the passing tumult, remained suspended as deep and complete as +if it had never been disturbed from the beginning of remote ages. +Then, through it, after a time, came to Lingard's ears the voice of the +running river: a voice low, discreet, and sad, like the persistent and +gentle voices that speak of the past in the silence of dreams. + +He felt a great emptiness in his heart. It seemed to him that there was +within his breast a great space without any light, where his thoughts +wandered forlornly, unable to escape, unable to rest, unable to die, +to vanish--and to relieve him from the fearful oppression of their +existence. Speech, action, anger, forgiveness, all appeared to him alike +useless and vain, appeared to him unsatisfactory, not worth the effort +of hand or brain that was needed to give them effect. He could not see +why he should not remain standing there, without ever doing anything, to +the end of time. He felt something, something like a heavy chain, that +held him there. This wouldn't do. He backed away a little from Willems +and Aissa, leaving them close together, then stopped and looked at both. +The man and the woman appeared to him much further than they really +were. He had made only about three steps backward, but he believed for +a moment that another step would take him out of earshot for ever. They +appeared to him slightly under life size, and with a great cleanness of +outlines, like figures carved with great precision of detail and highly +finished by a skilful hand. He pulled himself together. The strong +consciousness of his own personality came back to him. He had a notion +of surveying them from a great and inaccessible height. + +He said slowly: "You have been possessed of a devil." + +"Yes," answered Willems gloomily, and looking at Aissa. "Isn't it +pretty?" + +"I've heard this kind of talk before," said Lingard, in a scornful tone; +then paused, and went on steadily after a while: "I regret nothing. I +picked you up by the waterside, like a starving cat--by God. I regret +nothing; nothing that I have done. Abdulla--twenty others--no doubt +Hudig himself, were after me. That's business--for them. But that you +should . . . Money belongs to him who picks it up and is strong enough +to keep it--but this thing was different. It was part of my life. . . . +I am an old fool." + +He was. The breath of his words, of the very words he spoke, fanned +the spark of divine folly in his breast, the spark that made him--the +hard-headed, heavy-handed adventurer--stand out from the crowd, from the +sordid, from the joyous, unscrupulous, and noisy crowd of men that were +so much like himself. + +Willems said hurriedly: "It wasn't me. The evil was not in me, Captain +Lingard." + +"And where else confound you! Where else?" interrupted Lingard, raising +his voice. "Did you ever see me cheat and lie and steal? Tell me that. +Did you? Hey? I wonder where in perdition you came from when I found you +under my feet. . . . No matter. You will do no more harm." + +Willems moved nearer, gazing upon him anxiously. Lingard went on with +distinct deliberation-- + +"What did you expect when you asked me to see you? What? You know me. I +am Lingard. You lived with me. You've heard men speak. You knew what you +had done. Well! What did you expect?" + +"How can I know?" groaned Willems, wringing his hands; "I was alone in +that infernal savage crowd. I was delivered into their hands. After the +thing was done, I felt so lost and weak that I would have called the +devil himself to my aid if it had been any good--if he hadn't put in +all his work already. In the whole world there was only one man that had +ever cared for me. Only one white man. You! Hate is better than being +alone! Death is better! I expected . . . anything. Something to expect. +Something to take me out of this. Out of her sight!" + +He laughed. His laugh seemed to be torn out from him against his will, +seemed to be brought violently on the surface from under his bitterness, +his self-contempt, from under his despairing wonder at his own nature. + +"When I think that when I first knew her it seemed to me that my whole +life wouldn't be enough to . . . And now when I look at her! She did +it all. I must have been mad. I was mad. Every time I look at her I +remember my madness. It frightens me. . . . And when I think that of +all my life, of all my past, of all my future, of my intelligence, of my +work, there is nothing left but she, the cause of my ruin, and you whom +I have mortally offended . . ." + +He hid his face for a moment in his hands, and when he took them away +he had lost the appearance of comparative calm and gave way to a wild +distress. + +"Captain Lingard . . . anything . . . a deserted island . . . anywhere +. . . I promise . . ." + +"Shut up!" shouted Lingard, roughly. + +He became dumb, suddenly, completely. + +The wan light of the clouded morning retired slowly from the courtyard, +from the clearings, from the river, as if it had gone unwillingly to +hide in the enigmatical solitudes of the gloomy and silent forests. The +clouds over their heads thickened into a low vault of uniform blackness. +The air was still and inexpressibly oppressive. Lingard unbuttoned his +jacket, flung it wide open and, inclining his body sideways a little, +wiped his forehead with his hand, which he jerked sharply afterwards. +Then he looked at Willems and said-- + +"No promise of yours is any good to me. I am going to take your conduct +into my own hands. Pay attention to what I am going to say. You are my +prisoner." + +Willems' head moved imperceptibly; then he became rigid and still. He +seemed not to breathe. + +"You shall stay here," continued Lingard, with sombre deliberation. "You +are not fit to go amongst people. Who could suspect, who could guess, +who could imagine what's in you? I couldn't! You are my mistake. I shall +hide you here. If I let you out you would go amongst unsuspecting men, +and lie, and steal, and cheat for a little money or for some woman. I +don't care about shooting you. It would be the safest way though. But +I won't. Do not expect me to forgive you. To forgive one must have been +angry and become contemptuous, and there is nothing in me now--no anger, +no contempt, no disappointment. To me you are not Willems, the man I +befriended and helped through thick and thin, and thought much of . . . +You are not a human being that may be destroyed or forgiven. You are a +bitter thought, a something without a body and that must be hidden . . . +You are my shame." + +He ceased and looked slowly round. How dark it was! It seemed to him +that the light was dying prematurely out of the world and that the air +was already dead. + +"Of course," he went on, "I shall see to it that you don't starve." + +"You don't mean to say that I must live here, Captain Lingard?" said +Willems, in a kind of mechanical voice without any inflections. + +"Did you ever hear me say something I did not mean?" asked Lingard. "You +said you didn't want to die here--well, you must live . . . Unless you +change your mind," he added, as if in involuntary afterthought. + +He looked at Willems narrowly, then shook his head. + +"You are alone," he went on. "Nothing can help you. Nobody will. You are +neither white nor brown. You have no colour as you have no heart. Your +accomplices have abandoned you to me because I am still somebody to be +reckoned with. You are alone but for that woman there. You say you did +this for her. Well, you have her." + +Willems mumbled something, and then suddenly caught his hair with both +his hands and remained standing so. Aissa, who had been looking at him, +turned to Lingard. + +"What did you say, Rajah Laut?" she cried. + +There was a slight stir amongst the filmy threads of her disordered +hair, the bushes by the river sides trembled, the big tree nodded +precipitately over them with an abrupt rustle, as if waking with a +start from a troubled sleep--and the breath of hot breeze passed, light, +rapid, and scorching, under the clouds that whirled round, unbroken but +undulating, like a restless phantom of a sombre sea. + +Lingard looked at her pityingly before he said-- + +"I have told him that he must live here all his life . . . and with +you." + +The sun seemed to have gone out at last like a flickering light away up +beyond the clouds, and in the stifling gloom of the courtyard the three +figures stood colourless and shadowy, as if surrounded by a black and +superheated mist. Aissa looked at Willems, who remained still, as though +he had been changed into stone in the very act of tearing his hair. Then +she turned her head towards Lingard and shouted-- + +"You lie! You lie! . . . White man. Like you all do. You . . . whom +Abdulla made small. You lie!" + +Her words rang out shrill and venomous with her secret scorn, with her +overpowering desire to wound regardless of consequences; in her woman's +reckless desire to cause suffering at any cost, to cause it by the sound +of her own voice--by her own voice, that would carry the poison of her +thought into the hated heart. + +Willems let his hands fall, and began to mumble again. Lingard turned +his ear towards him instinctively, caught something that sounded like +"Very well"--then some more mumbling--then a sigh. + +"As far as the rest of the world is concerned," said Lingard, after +waiting for awhile in an attentive attitude, "your life is finished. +Nobody will be able to throw any of your villainies in my teeth; +nobody will be able to point at you and say, 'Here goes a scoundrel of +Lingard's up-bringing.' You are buried here." + +"And you think that I will stay . . . that I will submit?" exclaimed +Willems, as if he had suddenly recovered the power of speech. + +"You needn't stay here--on this spot," said Lingard, drily. "There are +the forests--and here is the river. You may swim. Fifteen miles up, or +forty down. At one end you will meet Almayer, at the other the sea. Take +your choice." + +He burst into a short, joyless laugh, then added with severe gravity-- + +"There is also another way." + +"If you want to drive my soul into damnation by trying to drive me to +suicide you will not succeed," said Willems in wild excitement. "I will +live. I shall repent. I may escape. . . . Take that woman away--she is +sin." + +A hooked dart of fire tore in two the darkness of the distant horizon +and lit up the gloom of the earth with a dazzling and ghastly flame. +Then the thunder was heard far away, like an incredibly enormous voice +muttering menaces. + +Lingard said-- + +"I don't care what happens, but I may tell you that without that woman +your life is not worth much--not twopence. There is a fellow here who +. . . and Abdulla himself wouldn't stand on any ceremony. Think of that! +And then she won't go." + +He began, even while he spoke, to walk slowly down towards the little +gate. He didn't look, but he felt as sure that Willems was following +him as if he had been leading him by a string. Directly he had passed +through the wicket-gate into the big courtyard he heard a voice, behind +his back, saying-- + +"I think she was right. I ought to have shot you. I couldn't have been +worse off." + +"Time yet," answered Lingard, without stopping or looking back. "But, +you see, you can't. There is not even that in you." + +"Don't provoke me, Captain Lingard," cried Willems. + +Lingard turned round sharply. Willems and Aissa stopped. Another forked +flash of lightning split up the clouds overhead, and threw upon their +faces a sudden burst of light--a blaze violent, sinister and fleeting; +and in the same instant they were deafened by a near, single crash of +thunder, which was followed by a rushing noise, like a frightened sigh +of the startled earth. + +"Provoke you!" said the old adventurer, as soon as he could make himself +heard. "Provoke you! Hey! What's there in you to provoke? What do I +care?" + +"It is easy to speak like that when you know that in the whole world--in +the whole world--I have no friend," said Willems. + +"Whose fault?" said Lingard, sharply. + +Their voices, after the deep and tremendous noise, sounded to them very +unsatisfactory--thin and frail, like the voices of pigmies--and they +became suddenly silent, as if on that account. From up the courtyard +Lingard's boatmen came down and passed them, keeping step in a single +file, their paddles on shoulder, and holding their heads straight with +their eyes fixed on the river. Ali, who was walking last, stopped before +Lingard, very stiff and upright. He said-- + +"That one-eyed Babalatchi is gone, with all his women. He took +everything. All the pots and boxes. Big. Heavy. Three boxes." + +He grinned as if the thing had been amusing, then added with an +appearance of anxious concern, "Rain coming." + +"We return," said Lingard. "Make ready." + +"Aye, aye, sir!" ejaculated Ali with precision, and moved on. He had +been quartermaster with Lingard before making up his mind to stay in +Sambir as Almayer's head man. He strutted towards the landing-place +thinking proudly that he was not like those other ignorant boatmen, and +knew how to answer properly the very greatest of white captains. + +"You have misunderstood me from the first, Captain Lingard," said +Willems. + +"Have I? It's all right, as long as there is no mistake about my +meaning," answered Lingard, strolling slowly to the landing-place. +Willems followed him, and Aissa followed Willems. + +Two hands were extended to help Lingard in embarking. He stepped +cautiously and heavily into the long and narrow canoe, and sat in the +canvas folding-chair that had been placed in the middle. He leaned back +and turned his head to the two figures that stood on the bank a +little above him. Aissa's eyes were fastened on his face in a visible +impatience to see him gone. Willems' look went straight above the canoe, +straight at the forest on the other side of the river. + +"All right, Ali," said Lingard, in a low voice. + +A slight stir animated the faces, and a faint murmur ran along the +line of paddlers. The foremost man pushed with the point of his paddle, +canted the fore end out of the dead water into the current; and the +canoe fell rapidly off before the rush of brown water, the stern rubbing +gently against the low bank. + +"We shall meet again, Captain Lingard!" cried Willems, in an unsteady +voice. + +"Never!" said Lingard, turning half round in his chair to look at +Willems. His fierce red eyes glittered remorselessly over the high back +of his seat. + +"Must cross the river. Water less quick over there," said Ali. + +He pushed in his turn now with all his strength, throwing his body +recklessly right out over the stern. Then he recovered himself just in +time into the squatting attitude of a monkey perched on a high shelf, +and shouted: "Dayong!" + +The paddles struck the water together. The canoe darted forward and went +on steadily crossing the river with a sideways motion made up of its own +speed and the downward drift of the current. + +Lingard watched the shore astern. The woman shook her hand at him, and +then squatted at the feet of the man who stood motionless. After a while +she got up and stood beside him, reaching up to his head--and Lingard +saw then that she had wetted some part of her covering and was trying to +wash the dried blood off the man's immovable face, which did not seem +to know anything about it. Lingard turned away and threw himself back in +his chair, stretching his legs out with a sigh of fatigue. His head +fell forward; and under his red face the white beard lay fan-like on his +breast, the ends of fine long hairs all astir in the faint draught +made by the rapid motion of the craft that carried him away from his +prisoner--from the only thing in his life he wished to hide. + +In its course across the river the canoe came into the line of Willems' +sight and his eyes caught the image, followed it eagerly as it glided, +small but distinct, on the dark background of the forest. He could see +plainly the figure of the man sitting in the middle. All his life he had +felt that man behind his back, a reassuring presence ready with help, +with commendation, with advice; friendly in reproof, enthusiastic +in approbation; a man inspiring confidence by his strength, by his +fearlessness, by the very weakness of his simple heart. And now that man +was going away. He must call him back. + +He shouted, and his words, which he wanted to throw across the river, +seemed to fall helplessly at his feet. Aissa put her hand on his arm in +a restraining attempt, but he shook it off. He wanted to call back his +very life that was going away from him. He shouted again--and this time +he did not even hear himself. No use. He would never return. And he +stood in sullen silence looking at the white figure over there, lying +back in the chair in the middle of the boat; a figure that struck him +suddenly as very terrible, heartless and astonishing, with its unnatural +appearance of running over the water in an attitude of languid repose. + +For a time nothing on earth stirred, seemingly, but the canoe, which +glided up-stream with a motion so even and smooth that it did not convey +any sense of movement. Overhead, the massed clouds appeared solid and +steady as if held there in a powerful grip, but on their uneven surface +there was a continuous and trembling glimmer, a faint reflection of the +distant lightning from the thunderstorm that had broken already on the +coast and was working its way up the river with low and angry growls. +Willems looked on, as motionless as everything round him and above him. +Only his eyes seemed to live, as they followed the canoe on its course +that carried it away from him, steadily, unhesitatingly, finally, as if +it were going, not up the great river into the momentous excitement of +Sambir, but straight into the past, into the past crowded yet empty, +like an old cemetery full of neglected graves, where lie dead hopes that +never return. + +From time to time he felt on his face the passing, warm touch of an +immense breath coming from beyond the forest, like the short panting of +an oppressed world. Then the heavy air round him was pierced by a sharp +gust of wind, bringing with it the fresh, damp feel of the falling rain; +and all the innumerable tree-tops of the forests swayed to the left +and sprang back again in a tumultuous balancing of nodding branches and +shuddering leaves. A light frown ran over the river, the clouds stirred +slowly, changing their aspect but not their place, as if they had +turned ponderously over; and when the sudden movement had died out in +a quickened tremor of the slenderest twigs, there was a short period +of formidable immobility above and below, during which the voice of the +thunder was heard, speaking in a sustained, emphatic and vibrating +roll, with violent louder bursts of crashing sound, like a wrathful and +threatening discourse of an angry god. For a moment it died out, and +then another gust of wind passed, driving before it a white mist which +filled the space with a cloud of waterdust that hid suddenly from +Willems the canoe, the forests, the river itself; that woke him up from +his numbness in a forlorn shiver, that made him look round despairingly +to see nothing but the whirling drift of rain spray before the +freshening breeze, while through it the heavy big drops fell about him +with sonorous and rapid beats upon the dry earth. He made a few hurried +steps up the courtyard and was arrested by an immense sheet of water +that fell all at once on him, fell sudden and overwhelming from the +clouds, cutting his respiration, streaming over his head, clinging to +him, running down his body, off his arms, off his legs. He stood gasping +while the water beat him in a vertical downpour, drove on him slanting +in squalls, and he felt the drops striking him from above, from +everywhere; drops thick, pressed and dashing at him as if flung from all +sides by a mob of infuriated hands. From under his feet a great vapour +of broken water floated up, he felt the ground become soft--melt under +him--and saw the water spring out from the dry earth to meet the water +that fell from the sombre heaven. An insane dread took possession of +him, the dread of all that water around him, of the water that ran down +the courtyard towards him, of the water that pressed him on every side, +of the slanting water that drove across his face in wavering sheets +which gleamed pale red with the flicker of lightning streaming through +them, as if fire and water were falling together, monstrously mixed, +upon the stunned earth. + +He wanted to run away, but when he moved it was to slide about painfully +and slowly upon that earth which had become mud so suddenly under his +feet. He fought his way up the courtyard like a man pushing through +a crowd, his head down, one shoulder forward, stopping often, and +sometimes carried back a pace or two in the rush of water which his +heart was not stout enough to face. Aissa followed him step by step, +stopping when he stopped, recoiling with him, moving forward with him +in his toilsome way up the slippery declivity of the courtyard, of that +courtyard, from which everything seemed to have been swept away by the +first rush of the mighty downpour. They could see nothing. The tree, the +bushes, the house, and the fences--all had disappeared in the thickness +of the falling rain. Their hair stuck, streaming, to their heads; their +clothing clung to them, beaten close to their bodies; water ran off +them, off their heads over their shoulders. They moved, patient, +upright, slow and dark, in the gleam clear or fiery of the falling +drops, under the roll of unceasing thunder, like two wandering ghosts +of the drowned that, condemned to haunt the water for ever, had come up +from the river to look at the world under a deluge. + +On the left the tree seemed to step out to meet them, appearing vaguely, +high, motionless and patient; with a rustling plaint of its innumerable +leaves through which every drop of water tore its separate way with +cruel haste. And then, to the right, the house surged up in the +mist, very black, and clamorous with the quick patter of rain on its +high-pitched roof above the steady splash of the water running off the +eaves. Down the plankway leading to the door flowed a thin and pellucid +stream, and when Willems began his ascent it broke over his foot as +if he were going up a steep ravine in the bed of a rapid and shallow +torrent. Behind his heels two streaming smudges of mud stained for an +instant the purity of the rushing water, and then he splashed his way up +with a spurt and stood on the bamboo platform before the open door under +the shelter of the overhanging eaves--under shelter at last! + +A low moan ending in a broken and plaintive mutter arrested Willems on +the threshold. He peered round in the half-light under the roof and saw +the old woman crouching close to the wall in a shapeless heap, and while +he looked he felt a touch of two arms on his shoulders. Aissa! He had +forgotten her. He turned, and she clasped him round the neck instantly, +pressing close to him as if afraid of violence or escape. He stiffened +himself in repulsion, in horror, in the mysterious revolt of his heart; +while she clung to him--clung to him as if he were a refuge from misery, +from storm, from weariness, from fear, from despair; and it was on the +part of that being an embrace terrible, enraged and mournful, in which +all her strength went out to make him captive, to hold him for ever. + +He said nothing. He looked into her eyes while he struggled with her +fingers about the nape of his neck, and suddenly he tore her hands +apart, holding her arms up in a strong grip of her wrists, and bending +his swollen face close over hers, he said-- + +"It is all your doing. You . . ." + +She did not understand him--not a word. He spoke in the language of his +people--of his people that know no mercy and no shame. And he was angry. +Alas! he was always angry now, and always speaking words that she could +not understand. She stood in silence, looking at him through her patient +eyes, while he shook her arms a little and then flung them down. + +"Don't follow me!" he shouted. "I want to be alone--I mean to be left +alone!" + +He went in, leaving the door open. + +She did not move. What need to understand the words when they are spoken +in such a voice? In that voice which did not seem to be his voice--his +voice when he spoke by the brook, when he was never angry and always +smiling! Her eyes were fixed upon the dark doorway, but her hands +strayed mechanically upwards; she took up all her hair, and, inclining +her head slightly over her shoulder, wrung out the long black tresses, +twisting them persistently, while she stood, sad and absorbed, like one +listening to an inward voice--the voice of bitter, of unavailing +regret. The thunder had ceased, the wind had died out, and the rain fell +perpendicular and steady through a great pale clearness--the light of +remote sun coming victorious from amongst the dissolving blackness of +the clouds. She stood near the doorway. He was there--alone in the gloom +of the dwelling. He was there. He spoke not. What was in his mind now? +What fear? What desire? Not the desire of her as in the days when he +used to smile . . . How could she know? . . . + +A sigh coming from the bottom of her heart, flew out into the world +through her parted lips. A sigh faint, profound, and broken; a sigh +full of pain and fear, like the sigh of those who are about to face the +unknown: to face it in loneliness, in doubt, and without hope. She let +go her hair, that fell scattered over her shoulders like a funeral veil, +and she sank down suddenly by the door. Her hands clasped her ankles; +she rested her head on her drawn-up knees, and remained still, very +still, under the streaming mourning of her hair. She was thinking of +him; of the days by the brook; she was thinking of all that had been +their love--and she sat in the abandoned posture of those who sit +weeping by the dead, of those who watch and mourn over a corpse. + + + + +PART V + + +CHAPTER ONE + +Almayer propped, alone on the verandah of his house, with both his +elbows on the table, and holding his head between his hands, stared +before him, away over the stretch of sprouting young grass in his +courtyard, and over the short jetty with its cluster of small canoes, +amongst which his big whale-boat floated high, like a white mother +of all that dark and aquatic brood. He stared on the river, past the +schooner anchored in mid-stream, past the forests of the left bank; he +stared through and past the illusion of the material world. + +The sun was sinking. Under the sky was stretched a network of white +threads, a network fine and close-meshed, where here and there were +caught thicker white vapours of globular shape; and to the eastward, +above the ragged barrier of the forests, surged the summits of a chain +of great clouds, growing bigger slowly, in imperceptible motion, as if +careful not to disturb the glowing stillness of the earth and of the +sky. Abreast of the house the river was empty but for the motionless +schooner. Higher up, a solitary log came out from the bend above and +went on drifting slowly down the straight reach: a dead and wandering +tree going out to its grave in the sea, between two ranks of trees +motionless and living. + +And Almayer sat, his face in his hands, looking on and hating all this: +the muddy river; the faded blue of the sky; the black log passing by on +its first and last voyage; the green sea of leaves--the sea that glowed +shimmered, and stirred above the uniform and impenetrable gloom of the +forests--the joyous sea of living green powdered with the brilliant dust +of oblique sunrays. + +He hated all this; he begrudged every day--every minute--of his life +spent amongst all these things; he begrudged it bitterly, angrily, with +enraged and immense regret, like a miser compelled to give up some of +his treasure to a near relation. And yet all this was very precious to +him. It was the present sign of a splendid future. + +He pushed the table away impatiently, got up, made a few steps +aimlessly, then stood by the balustrade and again looked at the +river--at that river which would have been the instrument for the making +of his fortune if . . . if . . . + +"What an abominable brute!" he said. + +He was alone, but he spoke aloud, as one is apt to do under the impulse +of a strong, of an overmastering thought. + +"What a brute!" he muttered again. + +The river was dark now, and the schooner lay on it, a black, a lonely, +and a graceful form, with the slender masts darting upwards from it +in two frail and raking lines. The shadows of the evening crept up the +trees, crept up from bough to bough, till at last the long sunbeams +coursing from the western horizon skimmed lightly over the topmost +branches, then flew upwards amongst the piled-up clouds, giving them +a sombre and fiery aspect in the last flush of light. And suddenly the +light disappeared as if lost in the immensity of the great, blue, +and empty hollow overhead. The sun had set: and the forests became +a straight wall of formless blackness. Above them, on the edge of +lingering clouds, a single star glimmered fitfully, obscured now and +then by the rapid flight of high and invisible vapours. + +Almayer fought with the uneasiness within his breast. He heard Ali, +who moved behind him preparing his evening meal, and he listened with +strange attention to the sounds the man made--to the short, dry bang +of the plate put upon the table, to the clink of glass and the metallic +rattle of knife and fork. The man went away. Now he was coming back. He +would speak directly; and Almayer, notwithstanding the absorbing gravity +of his thoughts, listened for the sound of expected words. He heard +them, spoken in English with painstaking distinctness. + +"Ready, sir!" + +"All right," said Almayer, curtly. He did not move. He remained pensive, +with his back to the table upon which stood the lighted lamp brought +by Ali. He was thinking: "Where was Lingard now? Halfway down the +river probably, in Abdulla's ship. He would be back in about three +days--perhaps less. And then? Then the schooner would have to be got out +of the river, and when that craft was gone they--he and Lingard--would +remain here; alone with the constant thought of that other man, that +other man living near them! What an extraordinary idea to keep him +there for ever. For ever! What did that mean--for ever? Perhaps a year, +perhaps ten years. Preposterous! Keep him there ten years--or may be +twenty! The fellow was capable of living more than twenty years. And for +all that time he would have to be watched, fed, looked after. There was +nobody but Lingard to have such notions. Twenty years! Why, no! In less +than ten years their fortune would be made and they would leave this +place, first for Batavia--yes, Batavia--and then for Europe. England, +no doubt. Lingard would want to go to England. And would they leave that +man here? How would that fellow look in ten years? Very old probably. +Well, devil take him. Nina would be fifteen. She would be rich and very +pretty and he himself would not be so old then. . . ." + +Almayer smiled into the night. + +. . . Yes, rich! Why! Of course! Captain Lingard was a resourceful man, +and he had plenty of money even now. They were rich already; but not +enough. Decidedly not enough. Money brings money. That gold business was +good. Famous! Captain Lingard was a remarkable man. He said the gold was +there--and it was there. Lingard knew what he was talking about. But he +had queer ideas. For instance, about Willems. Now what did he want to +keep him alive for? Why? + +"That scoundrel," muttered Almayer again. + +"Makan Tuan!" ejaculated Ali suddenly, very loud in a pressing tone. + +Almayer walked to the table, sat down, and his anxious visage dropped +from above into the light thrown down by the lamp-shade. He helped +himself absently, and began to eat in great mouthfuls. + +. . . Undoubtedly, Lingard was the man to stick to! The man undismayed, +masterful and ready. How quickly he had planned a new future when +Willems' treachery destroyed their established position in Sambir! And +the position even now was not so bad. What an immense prestige that +Lingard had with all those people--Arabs, Malays and all. Ah, it was +good to be able to call a man like that father. Fine! Wonder how much +money really the old fellow had. People talked--they exaggerated surely, +but if he had only half of what they said . . . + +He drank, throwing his head up, and fell to again. + +. . . Now, if that Willems had known how to play his cards well, had he +stuck to the old fellow he would have been in his position, he would +be now married to Lingard's adopted daughter with his future +assured--splendid . . . + +"The beast!" growled Almayer, between two mouthfuls. + +Ali stood rigidly straight with an uninterested face, his gaze lost in +the night which pressed round the small circle of light that shone on +the table, on the glass, on the bottle, and on Almayer's head as he +leaned over his plate moving his jaws. + +. . . A famous man Lingard--yet you never knew what he would do next. +It was notorious that he had shot a white man once for less than Willems +had done. For less? . . . Why, for nothing, so to speak! It was not even +his own quarrel. It was about some Malay returning from pilgrimage +with wife and children. Kidnapped, or robbed, or something. A stupid +story--an old story. And now he goes to see that Willems and--nothing. +Comes back talking big about his prisoner; but after all he said very +little. What did that Willems tell him? What passed between them? +The old fellow must have had something in his mind when he let that +scoundrel off. And Joanna! She would get round the old fellow. Sure. +Then he would forgive perhaps. Impossible. But at any rate he would +waste a lot of money on them. The old man was tenacious in his hates, +but also in his affections. He had known that beast Willems from a boy. +They would make it up in a year or so. Everything is possible: why did +he not rush off at first and kill the brute? That would have been more +like Lingard. . . . + +Almayer laid down his spoon suddenly, and pushing his plate away, threw +himself back in the chair. + +. . . Unsafe. Decidedly unsafe. He had no mind to share Lingard's +money with anybody. Lingard's money was Nina's money in a sense. And +if Willems managed to become friendly with the old man it would be +dangerous for him--Almayer. Such an unscrupulous scoundrel! He would +oust him from his position. He would lie and slander. Everything would +be lost. Lost. Poor Nina. What would become of her? Poor child. For her +sake he must remove that Willems. Must. But how? Lingard wanted to be +obeyed. Impossible to kill Willems. Lingard might be angry. Incredible, +but so it was. He might . . . + +A wave of heat passed through Almayer's body, flushed his face, and +broke out of him in copious perspiration. He wriggled in his chair, and +pressed his hands together under the table. What an awful prospect! +He fancied he could see Lingard and Willems reconciled and going away +arm-in-arm, leaving him alone in this God-forsaken hole--in Sambir--in +this deadly swamp! And all his sacrifices, the sacrifice of his +independence, of his best years, his surrender to Lingard's fancies and +caprices, would go for nothing! Horrible! Then he thought of his +little daughter--his daughter!--and the ghastliness of his supposition +overpowered him. He had a deep emotion, a sudden emotion that made him +feel quite faint at the idea of that young life spoiled before it had +fairly begun. His dear child's life! Lying back in his chair he covered +his face with both his hands. + +Ali glanced down at him and said, unconcernedly--"Master finish?" + +Almayer was lost in the immensity of his commiseration for himself, for +his daughter, who was--perhaps--not going to be the richest woman in +the world--notwithstanding Lingard's promises. He did not understand the +other's question, and muttered through his fingers in a doleful tone-- + +"What did you say? What? Finish what?" + +"Clear up meza," explained Ali. + +"Clear up!" burst out Almayer, with incomprehensible exasperation. +"Devil take you and the table. Stupid! Chatterer! Chelakka! Get out!" + +He leaned forward, glaring at his head man, then sank back in his seat +with his arms hanging straight down on each side of the chair. And he +sat motionless in a meditation so concentrated and so absorbing, with +all his power of thought so deep within himself, that all expression +disappeared from his face in an aspect of staring vacancy. + +Ali was clearing the table. He dropped negligently the tumbler into the +greasy dish, flung there the spoon and fork, then slipped in the plate +with a push amongst the remnants of food. He took up the dish, tucked up +the bottle under his armpit, and went off. + +"My hammock!" shouted Almayer after him. + +"Ada! I come soon," answered Ali from the doorway in an offended tone, +looking back over his shoulder. . . . How could he clear the table +and hang the hammock at the same time. Ya-wa! Those white men were all +alike. Wanted everything done at once. Like children . . . + +The indistinct murmur of his criticism went away, faded and died out +together with the soft footfall of his bare feet in the dark passage. + +For some time Almayer did not move. His thoughts were busy at work +shaping a momentous resolution, and in the perfect silence of the house +he believed that he could hear the noise of the operation as if the work +had been done with a hammer. He certainly felt a thumping of strokes, +faint, profound, and startling, somewhere low down in his breast; and +he was aware of a sound of dull knocking, abrupt and rapid, in his ears. +Now and then he held his breath, unconsciously, too long, and had to +relieve himself by a deep expiration that whistled dully through his +pursed lips. The lamp standing on the far side of the table threw a +section of a lighted circle on the floor, where his out-stretched legs +stuck out from under the table with feet rigid and turned up like the +feet of a corpse; and his set face with fixed eyes would have been also +like the face of the dead, but for its vacant yet conscious aspect; +the hard, the stupid, the stony aspect of one not dead, but only buried +under the dust, ashes, and corruption of personal thoughts, of base +fears, of selfish desires. + +"I will do it!" + +Not till he heard his own voice did he know that he had spoken. It +startled him. He stood up. The knuckles of his hand, somewhat behind +him, were resting on the edge of the table as he remained still with one +foot advanced, his lips a little open, and thought: It would not do to +fool about with Lingard. But I must risk it. It's the only way I can +see. I must tell her. She has some little sense. I wish they were a +thousand miles off already. A hundred thousand miles. I do. And if +it fails. And she blabs out then to Lingard? She seemed a fool. No; +probably they will get away. And if they did, would Lingard believe me? +Yes. I never lied to him. He would believe. I don't know . . . Perhaps +he won't. . . . "I must do it. Must!" he argued aloud to himself. + +For a long time he stood still, looking before him with an intense gaze, +a gaze rapt and immobile, that seemed to watch the minute quivering of a +delicate balance, coming to a rest. + +To the left of him, in the whitewashed wall of the house that formed +the back of the verandah, there was a closed door. Black letters were +painted on it proclaiming the fact that behind that door there was the +office of Lingard & Co. The interior had been furnished by Lingard when +he had built the house for his adopted daughter and her husband, and it +had been furnished with reckless prodigality. There was an office desk, +a revolving chair, bookshelves, a safe: all to humour the weakness of +Almayer, who thought all those paraphernalia necessary to successful +trading. Lingard had laughed, but had taken immense trouble to get the +things. It pleased him to make his protege, his adopted son-in-law, +happy. It had been the sensation of Sambir some five years ago. While +the things were being landed, the whole settlement literally lived on +the river bank in front of the Rajah Laut's house, to look, to wonder, +to admire. . . . What a big meza, with many boxes fitted all over it and +under it! What did the white man do with such a table? And look, look, O +Brothers! There is a green square box, with a gold plate on it, a box +so heavy that those twenty men cannot drag it up the bank. Let us go, +brothers, and help pull at the ropes, and perchance we may see what's +inside. Treasure, no doubt. Gold is heavy and hard to hold, O Brothers! +Let us go and earn a recompense from the fierce Rajah of the Sea who +shouts over there, with a red face. See! There is a man carrying a pile +of books from the boat! What a number of books. What were they for? +. . . And an old invalided jurumudi, who had travelled over many seas and +had heard holy men speak in far-off countries, explained to a small knot +of unsophisticated citizens of Sambir that those books were books of +magic--of magic that guides the white men's ships over the seas, that +gives them their wicked wisdom and their strength; of magic that makes +them great, powerful, and irresistible while they live, and--praise be +to Allah!--the victims of Satan, the slaves of Jehannum when they die. + +And when he saw the room furnished, Almayer had felt proud. In his +exultation of an empty-headed quill-driver, he thought himself, by the +virtue of that furniture, at the head of a serious business. He had +sold himself to Lingard for these things--married the Malay girl of his +adoption for the reward of these things and of the great wealth that +must necessarily follow upon conscientious book-keeping. He found out +very soon that trade in Sambir meant something entirely different. He +could not guide Patalolo, control the irrepressible old Sahamin, or +restrain the youthful vagaries of the fierce Bahassoen with pen, ink, +and paper. He found no successful magic in the blank pages of his +ledgers; and gradually he lost his old point of view in the saner +appreciation of his situation. The room known as the office became +neglected then like a temple of an exploded superstition. At first, when +his wife reverted to her original savagery, Almayer, now and again, had +sought refuge from her there; but after their child began to speak, to +know him, he became braver, for he found courage and consolation in his +unreasoning and fierce affection for his daughter--in the impenetrable +mantle of selfishness he wrapped round both their lives: round himself, +and that young life that was also his. + +When Lingard ordered him to receive Joanna into his house, he had a +truckle bed put into the office--the only room he could spare. The big +office desk was pushed on one side, and Joanna came with her little +shabby trunk and with her child and took possession in her dreamy, +slack, half-asleep way; took possession of the dust, dirt, and squalor, +where she appeared naturally at home, where she dragged a melancholy and +dull existence; an existence made up of sad remorse and frightened hope, +amongst the hopeless disorder--the senseless and vain decay of all these +emblems of civilized commerce. Bits of white stuff; rags yellow, pink, +blue: rags limp, brilliant and soiled, trailed on the floor, lay on the +desk amongst the sombre covers of books soiled, grimy, but stiff-backed, +in virtue, perhaps, of their European origin. The biggest set of +bookshelves was partly hidden by a petticoat, the waistband of which was +caught upon the back of a slender book pulled a little out of the row so +as to make an improvised clothespeg. The folding canvas bedstead stood +nearly in the middle of the room, stood anyhow, parallel to no wall, as +if it had been, in the process of transportation to some remote place, +dropped casually there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled blankets +that lay in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat almost all day +with her stockingless feet upon one of the bed pillows that were somehow +always kicking about the floor. She sat there, vaguely tormented +at times by the thought of her absent husband, but most of the time +thinking tearfully of nothing at all, looking with swimming eyes at +her little son--at the big-headed, pasty-faced, and sickly Louis +Willems--who rolled a glass inkstand, solid with dried ink, about the +floor, and tottered after it with the portentous gravity of demeanour +and absolute absorption by the business in hand that characterize the +pursuits of early childhood. Through the half-open shutter a ray of +sunlight, a ray merciless and crude, came into the room, beat in the +early morning upon the safe in the far-off corner, then, travelling +against the sun, cut at midday the big desk in two with its solid and +clean-edged brilliance; with its hot brilliance in which a swarm of +flies hovered in dancing flight over some dirty plate forgotten there +amongst yellow papers for many a day. And towards the evening the +cynical ray seemed to cling to the ragged petticoat, lingered on it with +wicked enjoyment of that misery it had exposed all day; lingered on the +corner of the dusty bookshelf, in a red glow intense and mocking, till +it was suddenly snatched by the setting sun out of the way of the coming +night. And the night entered the room. The night abrupt, impenetrable +and all-filling with its flood of darkness; the night cool and merciful; +the blind night that saw nothing, but could hear the fretful whimpering +of the child, the creak of the bedstead, Joanna's deep sighs as she +turned over, sleepless, in the confused conviction of her wickedness, +thinking of that man masterful, fair-headed, and strong--a man hard +perhaps, but her husband; her clever and handsome husband to whom she +had acted so cruelly on the advice of bad people, if her own people; and +of her poor, dear, deceived mother. + +To Almayer, Joanna's presence was a constant worry, a worry unobtrusive +yet intolerable; a constant, but mostly mute, warning of possible +danger. In view of the absurd softness of Lingard's heart, every one in +whom Lingard manifested the slightest interest was to Almayer a natural +enemy. He was quite alive to that feeling, and in the intimacy of the +secret intercourse with his inner self had often congratulated himself +upon his own wide-awake comprehension of his position. In that way, and +impelled by that motive, Almayer had hated many and various persons at +various times. But he never had hated and feared anybody so much as he +did hate and fear Willems. Even after Willems' treachery, which seemed +to remove him beyond the pale of all human sympathy, Almayer mistrusted +the situation and groaned in spirit every time he caught sight of +Joanna. + +He saw her very seldom in the daytime. But in the short and opal-tinted +twilights, or in the azure dusk of starry evenings, he often saw, before +he slept, the slender and tall figure trailing to and fro the ragged +tail of its white gown over the dried mud of the riverside in front of +the house. Once or twice when he sat late on the verandah, with his feet +upon the deal table on a level with the lamp, reading the seven months' +old copy of the North China Herald, brought by Lingard, he heard the +stairs creak, and, looking round the paper, he saw her frail and meagre +form rise step by step and toil across the verandah, carrying with +difficulty the big, fat child, whose head, lying on the mother's bony +shoulder, seemed of the same size as Joanna's own. Several times she had +assailed him with tearful clamour or mad entreaties: asking about her +husband, wanting to know where he was, when he would be back; and ending +every such outburst with despairing and incoherent self-reproaches that +were absolutely incomprehensible to Almayer. On one or two occasions she +had overwhelmed her host with vituperative abuse, making him responsible +for her husband's absence. Those scenes, begun without any warning, +ended abruptly in a sobbing flight and a bang of the door; stirred the +house with a sudden, a fierce, and an evanescent disturbance; like those +inexplicable whirlwinds that rise, run, and vanish without apparent +cause upon the sun-scorched dead level of arid and lamentable plains. + +But to-night the house was quiet, deadly quiet, while Almayer stood +still, watching that delicate balance where he was weighing all his +chances: Joanna's intelligence, Lingard's credulity, Willems' +reckless audacity, desire to escape, readiness to seize an unexpected +opportunity. He weighed, anxious and attentive, his fears and his +desires against the tremendous risk of a quarrel with Lingard. . . . +Yes. Lingard would be angry. Lingard might suspect him of some +connivance in his prisoner's escape--but surely he would not quarrel +with him--Almayer--about those people once they were gone--gone to the +devil in their own way. And then he had hold of Lingard through the +little girl. Good. What an annoyance! A prisoner! As if one could keep +him in there. He was bound to get away some time or other. Of course. +A situation like that can't last. Anybody could see that. Lingard's +eccentricity passed all bounds. You may kill a man, but you mustn't +torture him. It was almost criminal. It caused worry, trouble, and +unpleasantness. . . . Almayer for a moment felt very angry with Lingard. +He made him responsible for the anguish he suffered from, for the +anguish of doubt and fear; for compelling him--the practical and +innocent Almayer--to such painful efforts of mind in order to find +out some issue for absurd situations created by the unreasonable +sentimentality of Lingard's unpractical impulses. + +"Now if the fellow were dead it would be all right," said Almayer to the +verandah. + +He stirred a little, and scratching his nose thoughtfully, revelled in +a short flight of fancy, showing him his own image crouching in a big +boat, that floated arrested--say fifty yards off--abreast of Willems' +landing-place. In the bottom of the boat there was a gun. A loaded +gun. One of the boatmen would shout, and Willems would answer--from the +bushes. The rascal would be suspicious. Of course. Then the man would +wave a piece of paper urging Willems to come to the landing-place and +receive an important message. "From the Rajah Laut" the man would yell +as the boat edged in-shore, and that would fetch Willems out. Wouldn't +it? Rather! And Almayer saw himself jumping up at the right moment, +taking aim, pulling the trigger--and Willems tumbling over, his head in +the water--the swine! + +He seemed to hear the report of the shot. It made him thrill from +head to foot where he stood. . . . How simple! . . . Unfortunate . . . +Lingard . . . He sighed, shook his head. Pity. Couldn't be done. And +couldn't leave him there either! Suppose the Arabs were to get hold of +him again--for instance to lead an expedition up the river! Goodness +only knows what harm would come of it. . . . + +The balance was at rest now and inclining to the side of immediate +action. Almayer walked to the door, walked up very close to it, knocked +loudly, and turned his head away, looking frightened for a moment at +what he had done. After waiting for a while he put his ear against the +panel and listened. Nothing. He composed his features into an agreeable +expression while he stood listening and thinking to himself: I hear her. +Crying. Eh? I believe she has lost the little wits she had and is crying +night and day since I began to prepare her for the news of her husband's +death--as Lingard told me. I wonder what she thinks. It's just like +father to make me invent all these stories for nothing at all. Out of +kindness. Kindness! Damn! . . . She isn't deaf, surely. + +He knocked again, then said in a friendly tone, grinning benevolently at +the closed door-- + +"It's me, Mrs. Willems. I want to speak to you. I have . . . have . . . +important news. . . ." + +"What is it?" + +"News," repeated Almayer, distinctly. "News about your husband. Your +husband! . . . Damn him!" he added, under his breath. + +He heard a stumbling rush inside. Things were overturned. Joanna's +agitated voice cried-- + +"News! What? What? I am coming out." + +"No," shouted Almayer. "Put on some clothes, Mrs. Willems, and let me +in. It's . . . very confidential. You have a candle, haven't you?" + +She was knocking herself about blindly amongst the furniture in that +room. The candlestick was upset. Matches were struck ineffectually. The +matchbox fell. He heard her drop on her knees and grope over the floor +while she kept on moaning in maddened distraction. + +"Oh, my God! News! Yes . . . yes. . . . Ah! where . . . where . . . +candle. Oh, my God! . . . I can't find . . . Don't go away, for the love +of Heaven . . ." + +"I don't want to go away," said Almayer, impatiently, through the +keyhole; "but look sharp. It's coni . . . it's pressing." + +He stamped his foot lightly, waiting with his hand on the door-handle. +He thought anxiously: The woman's a perfect idiot. Why should I go away? +She will be off her head. She will never catch my meaning. She's too +stupid. + +She was moving now inside the room hurriedly and in silence. He waited. +There was a moment of perfect stillness in there, and then she spoke +in an exhausted voice, in words that were shaped out of an expiring +sigh--out of a sigh light and profound, like words breathed out by a +woman before going off into a dead faint-- + +"Come in." + +He pushed the door. Ali, coming through the passage with an armful +of pillows and blankets pressed to his breast high up under his chin, +caught sight of his master before the door closed behind him. He was so +astonished that he dropped his bundle and stood staring at the door for +a long time. He heard the voice of his master talking. Talking to that +Sirani woman! Who was she? He had never thought about that really. He +speculated for a while hazily upon things in general. She was a Sirani +woman--and ugly. He made a disdainful grimace, picked up the bedding, +and went about his work, slinging the hammock between two uprights of +the verandah. . . . Those things did not concern him. She was ugly, +and brought here by the Rajah Laut, and his master spoke to her in the +night. Very well. He, Ali, had his work to do. Sling the hammock--go +round and see that the watchmen were awake--take a look at the moorings +of the boats, at the padlock of the big storehouse--then go to sleep. +To sleep! He shivered pleasantly. He leaned with both arms over his +master's hammock and fell into a light doze. + +A scream, unexpected, piercing--a scream beginning at once in the +highest pitch of a woman's voice and then cut short, so short that it +suggested the swift work of death--caused Ali to jump on one side +away from the hammock, and the silence that succeeded seemed to him +as startling as the awful shriek. He was thunderstruck with surprise. +Almayer came out of the office, leaving the door ajar, passed close +to his servant without taking any notice, and made straight for the +water-chatty hung on a nail in a draughty place. He took it down and +came back, missing the petrified Ali by an inch. He moved with long +strides, yet, notwithstanding his haste, stopped short before the door, +and, throwing his head back, poured a thin stream of water down his +throat. While he came and went, while he stopped to drink, while he did +all this, there came steadily from the dark room the sound of feeble and +persistent crying, the crying of a sleepy and frightened child. After he +had drunk, Almayer went in, closing the door carefully. + +Ali did not budge. That Sirani woman shrieked! He felt an immense +curiosity very unusual to his stolid disposition. He could not take his +eyes off the door. Was she dead in there? How interesting and funny! He +stood with open mouth till he heard again the rattle of the door-handle. +Master coming out. He pivoted on his heels with great rapidity and made +believe to be absorbed in the contemplation of the night outside. He +heard Almayer moving about behind his back. Chairs were displaced. His +master sat down. + +"Ali," said Almayer. + +His face was gloomy and thoughtful. He looked at his head man, who +had approached the table, then he pulled out his watch. It was going. +Whenever Lingard was in Sambir Almayer's watch was going. He would set +it by the cabin clock, telling himself every time that he must really +keep that watch going for the future. And every time, when Lingard +went away, he would let it run down and would measure his weariness +by sunrises and sunsets in an apathetic indifference to mere hours; to +hours only; to hours that had no importance in Sambir life, in the tired +stagnation of empty days; when nothing mattered to him but the quality +of guttah and the size of rattans; where there were no small hopes to +be watched for; where to him there was nothing interesting, nothing +supportable, nothing desirable to expect; nothing bitter but the +slowness of the passing days; nothing sweet but the hope, the distant +and glorious hope--the hope wearying, aching and precious, of getting +away. + +He looked at the watch. Half-past eight. Ali waited stolidly. + +"Go to the settlement," said Almayer, "and tell Mahmat Banjer to come +and speak to me to-night." + +Ali went off muttering. He did not like his errand. Banjer and his two +brothers were Bajow vagabonds who had appeared lately in Sambir and had +been allowed to take possession of a tumbledown abandoned hut, on three +posts, belonging to Lingard & Co., and standing just outside their +fence. Ali disapproved of the favour shown to those strangers. Any kind +of dwelling was valuable in Sambir at that time, and if master did not +want that old rotten house he might have given it to him, Ali, who was +his servant, instead of bestowing it upon those bad men. Everybody +knew they were bad. It was well known that they had stolen a boat +from Hinopari, who was very aged and feeble and had no sons; and that +afterwards, by the truculent recklessness of their demeanour, they +had frightened the poor old man into holding his tongue about it. Yet +everybody knew of it. It was one of the tolerated scandals of Sambir, +disapproved and accepted, a manifestation of that base acquiescence in +success, of that inexpressed and cowardly toleration of strength, that +exists, infamous and irremediable, at the bottom of all hearts, in all +societies; whenever men congregate; in bigger and more virtuous places +than Sambir, and in Sambir also, where, as in other places, one man +could steal a boat with impunity while another would have no right to +look at a paddle. + +Almayer, leaning back in his chair, meditated. The more he thought, the +more he felt convinced that Banjer and his brothers were exactly the men +he wanted. Those fellows were sea gipsies, and could disappear without +attracting notice; and if they returned, nobody--and Lingard least of +all--would dream of seeking information from them. Moreover, they had +no personal interest of any kind in Sambir affairs--had taken no +sides--would know nothing anyway. + +He called in a strong voice: "Mrs. Willems!" + +She came out quickly, almost startling him, so much did she appear as +though she had surged up through the floor, on the other side of the +table. The lamp was between them, and Almayer moved it aside, looking up +at her from his chair. She was crying. She was crying gently, silently, +in a ceaseless welling up of tears that did not fall in drops, but +seemed to overflow in a clear sheet from under her eyelids--seemed +to flow at once all over her face, her cheeks, and over her chin that +glistened with moisture in the light. Her breast and her shoulders were +shaken repeatedly by a convulsive and noiseless catching in her breath, +and after every spasmodic sob her sorrowful little head, tied up in +a red kerchief, trembled on her long neck, round which her bony hand +gathered and clasped the disarranged dress. + +"Compose yourself, Mrs. Willems," said Almayer. + +She emitted an inarticulate sound that seemed to be a faint, a very far +off, a hardly audible cry of mortal distress. Then the tears went on +flowing in profound stillness. + +"You must understand that I have told you all this because I am your +friend--real friend," said Almayer, after looking at her for some time +with visible dissatisfaction. "You, his wife, ought to know the danger +he is in. Captain Lingard is a terrible man, you know." + +She blubbered out, sniffing and sobbing together. + +"Do you . . . you . . . speak . . . the . . . the truth now?" + +"Upon my word of honour. On the head of my child," protested Almayer. "I +had to deceive you till now because of Captain Lingard. But I couldn't +bear it. Think only what a risk I run in telling you--if ever Lingard +was to know! Why should I do it? Pure friendship. Dear Peter was my +colleague in Macassar for years, you know." + +"What shall I do . . . what shall I do!" she exclaimed, faintly, looking +around on every side as if she could not make up her mind which way to +rush off. + +"You must help him to clear out, now Lingard is away. He offended +Lingard, and that's no joke. Lingard said he would kill him. He will do +it, too," said Almayer, earnestly. + +She wrung her hands. "Oh! the wicked man. The wicked, wicked man!" she +moaned, swaying her body from side to side. + +"Yes. Yes! He is terrible," assented Almayer. "You must not lose any +time. I say! Do you understand me, Mrs. Willems? Think of your husband. +Of your poor husband. How happy he will be. You will bring him his +life--actually his life. Think of him." + +She ceased her swaying movement, and now, with her head sunk between +her shoulders, she hugged herself with both her arms; and she stared at +Almayer with wild eyes, while her teeth chattered, rattling violently +and uninterruptedly, with a very loud sound, in the deep peace of the +house. + +"Oh! Mother of God!" she wailed. "I am a miserable woman. Will he +forgive me? The poor, innocent man. Will he forgive me? Oh, Mr. Almayer, +he is so severe. Oh! help me. . . . I dare not. . . . You don't know +what I've done to him. . . . I daren't! . . . I can't! . . . God help +me!" + +The last words came in a despairing cry. Had she been flayed alive she +could not have sent to heaven a more terrible, a more heartrending and +anguished plaint. + +"Sh! Sh!" hissed Almayer, jumping up. "You will wake up everybody with +your shouting." + +She kept on sobbing then without any noise, and Almayer stared at her +in boundless astonishment. The idea that, maybe, he had done wrong by +confiding in her, upset him so much that for a moment he could not find +a connected thought in his head. + +At last he said: "I swear to you that your husband is in such a position +that he would welcome the devil . . . listen well to me . . . the +devil himself if the devil came to him in a canoe. Unless I am much +mistaken," he added, under his breath. Then again, loudly: "If you +have any little difference to make up with him, I assure you--I swear to +you--this is your time!" + +The ardently persuasive tone of his words--he thought--would have +carried irresistible conviction to a graven image. He noticed with +satisfaction that Joanna seemed to have got some inkling of his meaning. +He continued, speaking slowly-- + +"Look here, Mrs. Willems. I can't do anything. Daren't. But I will tell +you what I will do. There will come here in about ten minutes a Bugis +man--you know the language; you are from Macassar. He has a large canoe; +he can take you there. To the new Rajah's clearing, tell him. They are +three brothers, ready for anything if you pay them . . . you have some +money. Haven't you?" + +She stood--perhaps listening--but giving no sign of intelligence, +and stared at the floor in sudden immobility, as if the horror of the +situation, the overwhelming sense of her own wickedness and of her +husband's great danger, had stunned her brain, her heart, her will--had +left her no faculty but that of breathing and of keeping on her feet. +Almayer swore to himself with much mental profanity that he had never +seen a more useless, a more stupid being. + +"D'ye hear me?" he said, raising his voice. "Do try to understand. Have +you any money? Money. Dollars. Guilders. Money! What's the matter with +you?" + +Without raising her eyes she said, in a voice that sounded weak and +undecided as if she had been making a desperate effort of memory-- + +"The house has been sold. Mr. Hudig was angry." + +Almayer gripped the edge of the table with all his strength. He resisted +manfully an almost uncontrollable impulse to fly at her and box her +ears. + +"It was sold for money, I suppose," he said with studied and incisive +calmness. "Have you got it? Who has got it?" + +She looked up at him, raising her swollen eyelids with a great effort, +in a sorrowful expression of her drooping mouth, of her whole besmudged +and tear-stained face. She whispered resignedly-- + +"Leonard had some. He wanted to get married. And uncle Antonio; he sat +at the door and would not go away. And Aghostina--she is so poor . . . +and so many, many children--little children. And Luiz the engineer. He +never said a word against my husband. Also our cousin Maria. She came +and shouted, and my head was so bad, and my heart was worse. Then cousin +Salvator and old Daniel da Souza, who . . ." + +Almayer had listened to her speechless with rage. He thought: I must +give money now to that idiot. Must! Must get her out of the way now +before Lingard is back. He made two attempts to speak before he managed +to burst out-- + +"I don't want to know their blasted names! Tell me, did all those +infernal people leave you anything? To you! That's what I want to know!" + +"I have two hundred and fifteen dollars," said Joanna, in a frightened +tone. + +Almayer breathed freely. He spoke with great friendliness-- + +"That will do. It isn't much, but it will do. Now when the man comes I +will be out of the way. You speak to him. Give him some money; only +a little, mind! And promise more. Then when you get there you will be +guided by your husband, of course. And don't forget to tell him that +Captain Lingard is at the mouth of the river--the northern entrance. You +will remember. Won't you? The northern branch. Lingard is--death." + +Joanna shivered. Almayer went on rapidly-- + +"I would have given you money if you had wanted it. 'Pon my word! Tell +your husband I've sent you to him. And tell him not to lose any time. +And also say to him from me that we shall meet--some day. That I could +not die happy unless I met him once more. Only once. I love him, you +know. I prove it. Tremendous risk to me--this business is!" + +Joanna snatched his hand and before he knew what she would be at, +pressed it to her lips. + +"Mrs. Willems! Don't. What are you . . ." cried the abashed Almayer, +tearing his hand away. + +"Oh, you are good!" she cried, with sudden exaltation, "You are noble +. . . I shall pray every day . . . to all the saints . . . I shall . . ." + +"Never mind . . . never mind!" stammered out Almayer, confusedly, +without knowing very well what he was saying. "Only look out for +Lingard. . . . I am happy to be able . . . in your sad situation . . . +believe me. . . ." + +They stood with the table between them, Joanna looking down, and her +face, in the half-light above the lamp, appeared like a soiled carving +of old ivory--a carving, with accentuated anxious hollows, of old, very +old ivory. Almayer looked at her, mistrustful, hopeful. He was saying +to himself: How frail she is! I could upset her by blowing at her. She +seems to have got some idea of what must be done, but will she have the +strength to carry it through? I must trust to luck now! + +Somewhere far in the back courtyard Ali's voice rang suddenly in angry +remonstrance-- + +"Why did you shut the gate, O father of all mischief? You a watchman! +You are only a wild man. Did I not tell you I was coming back? You . . ." + +"I am off, Mrs. Willems," exclaimed Almayer. "That man is here--with my +servant. Be calm. Try to . . ." + +He heard the footsteps of the two men in the passage, and without +finishing his sentence ran rapidly down the steps towards the riverside. + + + +CHAPTER TWO + +For the next half-hour Almayer, who wanted to give Joanna plenty of +time, stumbled amongst the lumber in distant parts of his enclosure, +sneaked along the fences; or held his breath, flattened against grass +walls behind various outhouses: all this to escape Ali's inconveniently +zealous search for his master. He heard him talk with the head +watchman--sometimes quite close to him in the darkness--then moving off, +coming back, wondering, and, as the time passed, growing uneasy. + +"He did not fall into the river?--say, thou blind watcher!" Ali was +growling in a bullying tone, to the other man. "He told me to fetch +Mahmat, and when I came back swiftly I found him not in the house. There +is that Sirani woman there, so that Mahmat cannot steal anything, but it +is in my mind, the night will be half gone before I rest." + +He shouted-- + +"Master! O master! O mast . . ." + +"What are you making that noise for?" said Almayer, with severity, +stepping out close to them. + +The two Malays leaped away from each other in their surprise. + +"You may go. I don't want you any more tonight, Ali," went on Almayer. +"Is Mahmat there?" + +"Unless the ill-behaved savage got tired of waiting. Those men know +not politeness. They should not be spoken to by white men," said Ali, +resentfully. + +Almayer went towards the house, leaving his servants to wonder where he +had sprung from so unexpectedly. The watchman hinted obscurely at powers +of invisibility possessed by the master, who often at night . . . Ali +interrupted him with great scorn. Not every white man has the power. +Now, the Rajah Laut could make himself invisible. Also, he could be +in two places at once, as everybody knew; except he--the useless +watchman--who knew no more about white men than a wild pig! Ya-wa! + +And Ali strolled towards his hut, yawning loudly. + +As Almayer ascended the steps he heard the noise of a door flung to, +and when he entered the verandah he saw only Mahmat there, close to the +doorway of the passage. Mahmat seemed to be caught in the very act of +slinking away, and Almayer noticed that with satisfaction. Seeing the +white man, the Malay gave up his attempt and leaned against the wall. He +was a short, thick, broad-shouldered man with very dark skin and a wide, +stained, bright-red mouth that uncovered, when he spoke, a close row +of black and glistening teeth. His eyes were big, prominent, dreamy and +restless. He said sulkily, looking all over the place from under his +eyebrows-- + +"White Tuan, you are great and strong--and I a poor man. Tell me what is +your will, and let me go in the name of God. It is late." + +Almayer examined the man thoughtfully. How could he find out whether +. . . He had it! Lately he had employed that man and his two brothers as +extra boatmen to carry stores, provisions, and new axes to a camp of +rattan cutters some distance up the river. A three days' expedition. He +would test him now in that way. He said negligently-- + +"I want you to start at once for the camp, with surat for the Kavitan. +One dollar a day." + +The man appeared plunged in dull hesitation, but Almayer, who knew his +Malays, felt pretty sure from his aspect that nothing would induce the +fellow to go. He urged-- + +"It is important--and if you are swift I shall give two dollars for the +last day." + +"No, Tuan. We do not go," said the man, in a hoarse whisper. + +"Why?" + +"We start on another journey." + +"Where?" + +"To a place we know of," said Mahmat, a little louder, in a stubborn +manner, and looking at the floor. + +Almayer experienced a feeling of immense joy. He said, with affected +annoyance-- + +"You men live in my house and it is as if it were your own. I may want +my house soon." + +Mahmat looked up. + +"We are men of the sea and care not for a roof when we have a canoe that +will hold three, and a paddle apiece. The sea is our house. Peace be +with you, Tuan." + +He turned and went away rapidly, and Almayer heard him directly +afterwards in the courtyard calling to the watchman to open the gate. +Mahmat passed through the gate in silence, but before the bar had been +put up behind him he had made up his mind that if the white man ever +wanted to eject him from his hut, he would burn it and also as many of +the white man's other buildings as he could safely get at. And he began +to call his brothers before he was inside the dilapidated dwelling. + +"All's well!" muttered Almayer to himself, taking some loose Java +tobacco from a drawer in the table. "Now if anything comes out I am +clear. I asked the man to go up the river. I urged him. He will say so +himself. Good." + +He began to charge the china bowl of his pipe, a pipe with a long cherry +stem and a curved mouthpiece, pressing the tobacco down with his thumb +and thinking: No. I sha'n't see her again. Don't want to. I will give +her a good start, then go in chase--and send an express boat after +father. Yes! that's it. + +He approached the door of the office and said, holding his pipe away +from his lips-- + +"Good luck to you, Mrs. Willems. Don't lose any time. You may get along +by the bushes; the fence there is out of repair. Don't lose time. Don't +forget that it is a matter of . . . life and death. And don't forget +that I know nothing. I trust you." + +He heard inside a noise as of a chest-lid falling down. She made a few +steps. Then a sigh, profound and long, and some faint words which he +did not catch. He moved away from the door on tiptoe, kicked off his +slippers in a corner of the verandah, then entered the passage puffing +at his pipe; entered cautiously in a gentle creaking of planks and +turned into a curtained entrance to the left. There was a big room. On +the floor a small binnacle lamp--that had found its way to the house +years ago from the lumber-room of the Flash--did duty for a night-light. +It glimmered very small and dull in the great darkness. Almayer walked +to it, and picking it up revived the flame by pulling the wick with his +fingers, which he shook directly after with a grimace of pain. Sleeping +shapes, covered--head and all--with white sheets, lay about on the mats +on the floor. In the middle of the room a small cot, under a square +white mosquito net, stood--the only piece of furniture between the four +walls--looking like an altar of transparent marble in a gloomy temple. A +woman, half-lying on the floor with her head dropped on her arms, which +were crossed on the foot of the cot, woke up as Almayer strode over +her outstretched legs. She sat up without a word, leaning forward, and, +clasping her knees, stared down with sad eyes, full of sleep. + +Almayer, the smoky light in one hand, his pipe in the other, stood +before the curtained cot looking at his daughter--at his little Nina--at +that part of himself, at that small and unconscious particle of humanity +that seemed to him to contain all his soul. And it was as if he had been +bathed in a bright and warm wave of tenderness, in a tenderness greater +than the world, more precious than life; the only thing real, living, +sweet, tangible, beautiful and safe amongst the elusive, the distorted +and menacing shadows of existence. On his face, lit up indistinctly by +the short yellow flame of the lamp, came a look of rapt attention +while he looked into her future. And he could see things there! Things +charming and splendid passing before him in a magic unrolling of +resplendent pictures; pictures of events brilliant, happy, inexpressibly +glorious, that would make up her life. He would do it! He would do it. +He would! He would--for that child! And as he stood in the still night, +lost in his enchanting and gorgeous dreams, while the ascending, thin +thread of tobacco smoke spread into a faint bluish cloud above his head, +he appeared strangely impressive and ecstatic: like a devout and mystic +worshipper, adoring, transported and mute; burning incense before a +shrine, a diaphanous shrine of a child-idol with closed eyes; before a +pure and vaporous shrine of a small god--fragile, powerless, unconscious +and sleeping. + +When Ali, roused by loud and repeated shouting of his name, stumbled +outside the door of his hut, he saw a narrow streak of trembling gold +above the forests and a pale sky with faded stars overhead: signs of the +coming day. His master stood before the door waving a piece of paper in +his hand and shouting excitedly--"Quick, Ali! Quick!" When he saw his +servant he rushed forward, and pressing the paper on him objurgated him, +in tones which induced Ali to think that something awful had happened, +to hurry up and get the whale-boat ready to go immediately--at once, +at once--after Captain Lingard. Ali remonstrated, agitated also, having +caught the infection of distracted haste. + +"If must go quick, better canoe. Whale-boat no can catch, same as small +canoe." + +"No, no! Whale-boat! whale-boat! You dolt! you wretch!" howled Almayer, +with all the appearance of having gone mad. "Call the men! Get along +with it. Fly!" + +And Ali rushed about the courtyard kicking the doors of huts open to put +his head in and yell frightfully inside; and as he dashed from hovel +to hovel, men shivering and sleepy were coming out, looking after him +stupidly, while they scratched their ribs with bewildered apathy. It was +hard work to put them in motion. They wanted time to stretch themselves +and to shiver a little. Some wanted food. One said he was sick. Nobody +knew where the rudder was. Ali darted here and there, ordering, abusing, +pushing one, then another, and stopping in his exertions at times to +wring his hands hastily and groan, because the whale-boat was much +slower than the worst canoe and his master would not listen to his +protestations. + +Almayer saw the boat go off at last, pulled anyhow by men that were +cold, hungry, and sulky; and he remained on the jetty watching it down +the reach. It was broad day then, and the sky was perfectly cloudless. +Almayer went up to the house for a moment. His household was all astir +and wondering at the strange disappearance of the Sirani woman, who had +taken her child and had left her luggage. Almayer spoke to no one, got +his revolver, and went down to the river again. He jumped into a +small canoe and paddled himself towards the schooner. He worked very +leisurely, but as soon as he was nearly alongside he began to hail +the silent craft with the tone and appearance of a man in a tremendous +hurry. + +"Schooner ahoy! schooner ahoy!" he shouted. + +A row of blank faces popped up above the bulwark. After a while a man +with a woolly head of hair said-- + +"Sir!" + +"The mate! the mate! Call him, steward!" said Almayer, excitedly, making +a frantic grab at a rope thrown down to him by somebody. + +In less than a minute the mate put his head over. He asked, surprised-- + +"What can I do for you, Mr. Almayer?" + +"Let me have the gig at once, Mr. Swan--at once. I ask in Captain +Lingard's name. I must have it. Matter of life and death." + +The mate was impressed by Almayer's agitation + +"You shall have it, sir. . . . Man the gig there! Bear a hand, serang! +. . . It's hanging astern, Mr. Almayer," he said, looking down again. +"Get into it, sir. The men are coming down by the painter." + +By the time Almayer had clambered over into the stern sheets, four +calashes were in the boat and the oars were being passed over the +taffrail. The mate was looking on. Suddenly he said-- + +"Is it dangerous work? Do you want any help? I would come . . ." + +"Yes, yes!" cried Almayer. "Come along. Don't lose a moment. Go and get +your revolver. Hurry up! hurry up!" + +Yet, notwithstanding his feverish anxiety to be off, he lolled back +very quiet and unconcerned till the mate got in and, passing over the +thwarts, sat down by his side. Then he seemed to wake up, and called +out-- + +"Let go--let go the painter!" + +"Let go the painter--the painter!" yelled the bowman, jerking at it. + +People on board also shouted "Let go!" to one another, till it occurred +at last to somebody to cast off the rope; and the boat drifted rapidly +away from the schooner in the sudden silencing of all voices. + +Almayer steered. The mate sat by his side, pushing the cartridges into +the chambers of his revolver. When the weapon was loaded he asked-- + +"What is it? Are you after somebody?" + +"Yes," said Almayer, curtly, with his eyes fixed ahead on the river. "We +must catch a dangerous man." + +"I like a bit of a chase myself," declared the mate, and then, +discouraged by Almayer's aspect of severe thoughtfulness, said nothing +more. + +Nearly an hour passed. The calashes stretched forward head first and lay +back with their faces to the sky, alternately, in a regular swing +that sent the boat flying through the water; and the two sitters, very +upright in the stern sheets, swayed rhythmically a little at every +stroke of the long oars plied vigorously. + +The mate observed: "The tide is with us." + +"The current always runs down in this river," said Almayer. + +"Yes--I know," retorted the other; "but it runs faster on the ebb. Look +by the land at the way we get over the ground! A five-knot current here, +I should say." + +"H'm!" growled Almayer. Then suddenly: "There is a passage between two +islands that will save us four miles. But at low water the two islands, +in the dry season, are like one with only a mud ditch between them. +Still, it's worth trying." + +"Ticklish job that, on a falling tide," said the mate, coolly. "You know +best whether there's time to get through." + +"I will try," said Almayer, watching the shore intently. "Look out now!" + +He tugged hard at the starboard yoke-line. + +"Lay in your oars!" shouted the mate. + +The boat swept round and shot through the narrow opening of a creek that +broadened out before the craft had time to lose its way. + +"Out oars! . . . Just room enough," muttered the mate. + +It was a sombre creek of black water speckled with the gold of scattered +sunlight falling through the boughs that met overhead in a soaring, +restless arc full of gentle whispers passing, tremulous, aloft amongst +the thick leaves. The creepers climbed up the trunks of serried trees +that leaned over, looking insecure and undermined by floods which had +eaten away the earth from under their roots. And the pungent, acrid +smell of rotting leaves, of flowers, of blossoms and plants dying in +that poisonous and cruel gloom, where they pined for sunshine in vain, +seemed to lay heavy, to press upon the shiny and stagnant water in its +tortuous windings amongst the everlasting and invincible shadows. + +Almayer looked anxious. He steered badly. Several times the blades of +the oars got foul of the bushes on one side or the other, checking the +way of the gig. During one of those occurrences, while they were getting +clear, one of the calashes said something to the others in a rapid +whisper. They looked down at the water. So did the mate. + +"Hallo!" he exclaimed. "Eh, Mr. Almayer! Look! The water is running out. +See there! We will be caught." + +"Back! back! We must go back!" cried Almayer. + +"Perhaps better go on." + +"No; back! back!" + +He pulled at the steering line, and ran the nose of the boat into the +bank. Time was lost again in getting clear. + +"Give way, men! give way!" urged the mate, anxiously. + +The men pulled with set lips and dilated nostrils, breathing hard. + +"Too late," said the mate, suddenly. "The oars touch the bottom already. +We are done." + +The boat stuck. The men laid in the oars, and sat, panting, with crossed +arms. + +"Yes, we are caught," said Almayer, composedly. "That is unlucky!" + +The water was falling round the boat. The mate watched the patches of +mud coming to the surface. Then in a moment he laughed, and pointing his +finger at the creek-- + +"Look!" he said; "the blamed river is running away from us. Here's the +last drop of water clearing out round that bend." + +Almayer lifted his head. The water was gone, and he looked only at a +curved track of mud--of mud soft and black, hiding fever, rottenness, +and evil under its level and glazed surface. + +"We are in for it till the evening," he said, with cheerful resignation. +"I did my best. Couldn't help it." + +"We must sleep the day away," said the mate. "There's nothing to eat," +he added, gloomily. + +Almayer stretched himself in the stern sheets. The Malays curled down +between thwarts. + +"Well, I'm jiggered!" said the mate, starting up after a long pause. +"I was in a devil of a hurry to go and pass the day stuck in the mud. +Here's a holiday for you! Well! well!" + +They slept or sat unmoving and patient. As the sun mounted higher the +breeze died out, and perfect stillness reigned in the empty creek. A +troop of long-nosed monkeys appeared, and crowding on the outer boughs, +contemplated the boat and the motionless men in it with grave and +sorrowful intensity, disturbed now and then by irrational outbreaks of +mad gesticulation. A little bird with sapphire breast balanced a slender +twig across a slanting beam of light, and flashed in it to and fro like +a gem dropped from the sky. His minute round eye stared at the strange +and tranquil creatures in the boat. After a while he sent out a thin +twitter that sounded impertinent and funny in the solemn silence of the +great wilderness; in the great silence full of struggle and death. + + + +CHAPTER THREE + +On Lingard's departure solitude and silence closed round Willems; the +cruel solitude of one abandoned by men; the reproachful silence which +surrounds an outcast ejected by his kind, the silence unbroken by the +slightest whisper of hope; an immense and impenetrable silence that +swallows up without echo the murmur of regret and the cry of revolt. +The bitter peace of the abandoned clearings entered his heart, in which +nothing could live now but the memory and hate of his past. Not remorse. +In the breast of a man possessed by the masterful consciousness of +his individuality with its desires and its rights; by the immovable +conviction of his own importance, of an importance so indisputable and +final that it clothes all his wishes, endeavours, and mistakes with the +dignity of unavoidable fate, there could be no place for such a feeling +as that of remorse. + +The days passed. They passed unnoticed, unseen, in the rapid blaze of +glaring sunrises, in the short glow of tender sunsets, in the crushing +oppression of high noons without a cloud. How many days? Two--three--or +more? He did not know. To him, since Lingard had gone, the time seemed +to roll on in profound darkness. All was night within him. All was gone +from his sight. He walked about blindly in the deserted courtyards, +amongst the empty houses that, perched high on their posts, looked down +inimically on him, a white stranger, a man from other lands; seemed +to look hostile and mute out of all the memories of native life that +lingered between their decaying walls. His wandering feet stumbled +against the blackened brands of extinct fires, kicking up a light black +dust of cold ashes that flew in drifting clouds and settled to leeward +on the fresh grass sprouting from the hard ground, between the shade +trees. He moved on, and on; ceaseless, unresting, in widening circles, +in zigzagging paths that led to no issue; he struggled on wearily with +a set, distressed face behind which, in his tired brain, seethed his +thoughts: restless, sombre, tangled, chilling, horrible and venomous, +like a nestful of snakes. + +From afar, the bleared eyes of the old serving woman, the sombre gaze +of Aissa followed the gaunt and tottering figure in its unceasing prowl +along the fences, between the houses, amongst the wild luxuriance of +riverside thickets. Those three human beings abandoned by all were +like shipwrecked people left on an insecure and slippery ledge by the +retiring tide of an angry sea--listening to its distant roar, living +anguished between the menace of its return and the hopeless horror of +their solitude--in the midst of a tempest of passion, of regret, of +disgust, of despair. The breath of the storm had cast two of them there, +robbed of everything--even of resignation. The third, the decrepit +witness of their struggle and their torture, accepted her own dull +conception of facts; of strength and youth gone; of her useless old +age; of her last servitude; of being thrown away by her chief, by her +nearest, to use up the last and worthless remnant of flickering life +between those two incomprehensible and sombre outcasts: a shrivelled, an +unmoved, a passive companion of their disaster. + +To the river Willems turned his eyes like a captive that looks fixedly +at the door of his cell. If there was any hope in the world it would +come from the river, by the river. For hours together he would stand in +sunlight while the sea breeze sweeping over the lonely reach fluttered +his ragged garments; the keen salt breeze that made him shiver now +and then under the flood of intense heat. He looked at the brown and +sparkling solitude of the flowing water, of the water flowing ceaseless +and free in a soft, cool murmur of ripples at his feet. The world seemed +to end there. The forests of the other bank appeared unattainable, +enigmatical, for ever beyond reach like the stars of heaven--and as +indifferent. Above and below, the forests on his side of the river came +down to the water in a serried multitude of tall, immense trees towering +in a great spread of twisted boughs above the thick undergrowth; great, +solid trees, looking sombre, severe, and malevolently stolid, like a +giant crowd of pitiless enemies pressing round silently to witness +his slow agony. He was alone, small, crushed. He thought of escape--of +something to be done. What? A raft! He imagined himself working at it, +feverishly, desperately; cutting down trees, fastening the logs together +and then drifting down with the current, down to the sea into the +straits. There were ships there--ships, help, white men. Men like +himself. Good men who would rescue him, take him away, take him far away +where there was trade, and houses, and other men that could understand +him exactly, appreciate his capabilities; where there was proper food, +and money; where there were beds, knives, forks, carriages, brass bands, +cool drinks, churches with well-dressed people praying in them. He would +pray also. The superior land of refined delights where he could sit on +a chair, eat his tiffin off a white tablecloth, nod to fellows--good +fellows; he would be popular; always was--where he could be virtuous, +correct, do business, draw a salary, smoke cigars, buy things in +shops--have boots . . . be happy, free, become rich. O God! What was +wanted? Cut down a few trees. No! One would do. They used to make canoes +by burning out a tree trunk, he had heard. Yes! One would do. One tree +to cut down . . . He rushed forward, and suddenly stood still as if +rooted in the ground. He had a pocket-knife. + +And he would throw himself down on the ground by the riverside. He +was tired, exhausted; as if that raft had been made, the voyage +accomplished, the fortune attained. A glaze came over his staring eyes, +over his eyes that gazed hopelessly at the rising river where big logs +and uprooted trees drifted in the shine of mid-stream: a long procession +of black and ragged specks. He could swim out and drift away on one of +these trees. Anything to escape! Anything! Any risk! He could fasten +himself up between the dead branches. He was torn by desire, by fear; +his heart was wrung by the faltering of his courage. He turned over, +face downwards, his head on his arms. He had a terrible vision of +shadowless horizons where the blue sky and the blue sea met; or a +circular and blazing emptiness where a dead tree and a dead man drifted +together, endlessly, up and down, upon the brilliant undulations of the +straits. No ships there. Only death. And the river led to it. + +He sat up with a profound groan. + +Yes, death. Why should he die? No! Better solitude, better hopeless +waiting, alone. Alone. No! he was not alone, he saw death looking at him +from everywhere; from the bushes, from the clouds--he heard her speaking +to him in the murmur of the river, filling the space, touching his +heart, his brain with a cold hand. He could see and think of nothing +else. He saw it--the sure death--everywhere. He saw it so close that +he was always on the point of throwing out his arms to keep it off. It +poisoned all he saw, all he did; the miserable food he ate, the muddy +water he drank; it gave a frightful aspect to sunrises and sunsets, to +the brightness of hot noon, to the cooling shadows of the evenings. He +saw the horrible form among the big trees, in the network of creepers +in the fantastic outlines of leaves, of the great indented leaves that +seemed to be so many enormous hands with big broad palms, with stiff +fingers outspread to lay hold of him; hands gently stirring, or hands +arrested in a frightful immobility, with a stillness attentive and +watching for the opportunity to take him, to enlace him, to strangle +him, to hold him till he died; hands that would hold him dead, that +would never let go, that would cling to his body for ever till it +perished--disappeared in their frantic and tenacious grasp. + +And yet the world was full of life. All the things, all the men he knew, +existed, moved, breathed; and he saw them in a long perspective, far +off, diminished, distinct, desirable, unattainable, precious . . . lost +for ever. Round him, ceaselessly, there went on without a sound the mad +turmoil of tropical life. After he had died all this would remain! He +wanted to clasp, to embrace solid things; he had an immense craving for +sensations; for touching, pressing, seeing, handling, holding on, to +all these things. All this would remain--remain for years, for ages, for +ever. After he had miserably died there, all this would remain, would +live, would exist in joyous sunlight, would breathe in the coolness of +serene nights. What for, then? He would be dead. He would be stretched +upon the warm moisture of the ground, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, +knowing nothing; he would lie stiff, passive, rotting slowly; while over +him, under him, through him--unopposed, busy, hurried--the endless and +minute throngs of insects, little shining monsters of repulsive shapes, +with horns, with claws, with pincers, would swarm in streams, in rushes, +in eager struggle for his body; would swarm countless, persistent, +ferocious and greedy--till there would remain nothing but the white +gleam of bleaching bones in the long grass; in the long grass that would +shoot its feathery heads between the bare and polished ribs. There would +be that only left of him; nobody would miss him; no one would remember +him. + +Nonsense! It could not be. There were ways out of this. Somebody would +turn up. Some human beings would come. He would speak, entreat--use +force to extort help from them. He felt strong; he was very strong. He +would . . . The discouragement, the conviction of the futility of his +hopes would return in an acute sensation of pain in his heart. He would +begin again his aimless wanderings. He tramped till he was ready to +drop, without being able to calm by bodily fatigue the trouble of his +soul. There was no rest, no peace within the cleared grounds of his +prison. There was no relief but in the black release of sleep, of sleep +without memory and without dreams; in the sleep coming brutal and heavy, +like the lead that kills. To forget in annihilating sleep; to tumble +headlong, as if stunned, out of daylight into the night of oblivion, was +for him the only, the rare respite from this existence which he lacked +the courage to endure--or to end. + +He lived, he struggled with the inarticulate delirium of his thoughts +under the eyes of the silent Aissa. She shared his torment in the +poignant wonder, in the acute longing, in the despairing inability to +understand the cause of his anger and of his repulsion; the hate of +his looks; the mystery of his silence; the menace of his rare words--of +those words in the speech of white people that were thrown at her with +rage, with contempt, with the evident desire to hurt her; to hurt her +who had given herself, her life--all she had to give--to that white man; +to hurt her who had wanted to show him the way to true greatness, who +had tried to help him, in her woman's dream of everlasting, enduring, +unchangeable affection. From the short contact with the whites in the +crashing collapse of her old life, there remained with her the imposing +idea of irresistible power and of ruthless strength. She had found a man +of their race--and with all their qualities. All whites are alike. But +this man's heart was full of anger against his own people, full of anger +existing there by the side of his desire of her. And to her it had been +an intoxication of hope for great things born in the proud and tender +consciousness of her influence. She had heard the passing whisper of +wonder and fear in the presence of his hesitation, of his resistance, +of his compromises; and yet with a woman's belief in the durable +steadfastness of hearts, in the irresistible charm of her own +personality, she had pushed him forward, trusting the future, blindly, +hopefully; sure to attain by his side the ardent desire of her life, if +she could only push him far beyond the possibility of retreat. She did +not know, and could not conceive, anything of his--so exalted--ideals. +She thought the man a warrior and a chief, ready for battle, violence, +and treachery to his own people--for her. What more natural? Was he not +a great, strong man? Those two, surrounded each by the impenetrable +wall of their aspirations, were hopelessly alone, out of sight, out +of earshot of each other; each the centre of dissimilar and distant +horizons; standing each on a different earth, under a different sky. +She remembered his words, his eyes, his trembling lips, his outstretched +hands; she remembered the great, the immeasurable sweetness of her +surrender, that beginning of her power which was to last until death. He +remembered the quaysides and the warehouses; the excitement of a life in +a whirl of silver coins; the glorious uncertainty of a money hunt; his +numerous successes, the lost possibilities of wealth and consequent +glory. She, a woman, was the victim of her heart, of her woman's belief +that there is nothing in the world but love--the everlasting thing. +He was the victim of his strange principles, of his continence, of his +blind belief in himself, of his solemn veneration for the voice of his +boundless ignorance. + +In a moment of his idleness, of suspense, of discouragement, she had +come--that creature--and by the touch of her hand had destroyed his +future, his dignity of a clever and civilized man; had awakened in his +breast the infamous thing which had driven him to what he had done, and +to end miserably in the wilderness and be forgotten, or else remembered +with hate or contempt. He dared not look at her, because now whenever +he looked at her his thought seemed to touch crime, like an outstretched +hand. She could only look at him--and at nothing else. What else was +there? She followed him with a timorous gaze, with a gaze for ever +expecting, patient, and entreating. And in her eyes there was the wonder +and desolation of an animal that knows only suffering, of the incomplete +soul that knows pain but knows not hope; that can find no refuge from +the facts of life in the illusory conviction of its dignity, of an +exalted destiny beyond; in the heavenly consolation of a belief in the +momentous origin of its hate. + +For the first three days after Lingard went away he would not even +speak to her. She preferred his silence to the sound of hated and +incomprehensible words he had been lately addressing to her with a wild +violence of manner, passing at once into complete apathy. And during +these three days he hardly ever left the river, as if on that muddy bank +he had felt himself nearer to his freedom. He would stay late; he would +stay till sunset; he would look at the glow of gold passing away amongst +sombre clouds in a bright red flush, like a splash of warm blood. It +seemed to him ominous and ghastly with a foreboding of violent death +that beckoned him from everywhere--even from the sky. + +One evening he remained by the riverside long after sunset, regardless +of the night mist that had closed round him, had wrapped him up and +clung to him like a wet winding-sheet. A slight shiver recalled him to +his senses, and he walked up the courtyard towards his house. Aissa rose +from before the fire, that glimmered red through its own smoke, which +hung thickening under the boughs of the big tree. She approached him +from the side as he neared the plankway of the house. He saw her stop to +let him begin his ascent. In the darkness her figure was like the shadow +of a woman with clasped hands put out beseechingly. He stopped--could +not help glancing at her. In all the sombre gracefulness of the straight +figure, her limbs, features--all was indistinct and vague but the gleam +of her eyes in the faint starlight. He turned his head away and moved +on. He could feel her footsteps behind him on the bending planks, but he +walked up without turning his head. He knew what she wanted. She wanted +to come in there. He shuddered at the thought of what might happen in +the impenetrable darkness of that house if they were to find themselves +alone--even for a moment. He stopped in the doorway, and heard her say-- + +"Let me come in. Why this anger? Why this silence? . . . Let me watch +. . . by your side. . . . Have I not watched faithfully? Did harm ever +come to you when you closed your eyes while I was by? . . . I have +waited . .. I have waited for your smile, for your words . . . I can +wait no more.. . . Look at me . . . speak to me. Is there a bad spirit +in you? A bad spirit that has eaten up your courage and your love? Let +me touch you. Forget all . . . All. Forget the wicked hearts, the angry +faces . . . and remember only the day I came to you . . . to you! O my +heart! O my life!" + +The pleading sadness of her appeal filled the space with the tremor of +her low tones, that carried tenderness and tears into the great peace +of the sleeping world. All around them the forests, the clearings, the +river, covered by the silent veil of night, seemed to wake up and listen +to her words in attentive stillness. After the sound of her voice had +died out in a stifled sigh they appeared to listen yet; and nothing +stirred among the shapeless shadows but the innumerable fireflies +that twinkled in changing clusters, in gliding pairs, in wandering and +solitary points--like the glimmering drift of scattered star-dust. + +Willems turned round slowly, reluctantly, as if compelled by main force. +Her face was hidden in her hands, and he looked above her bent head, +into the sombre brilliance of the night. It was one of those nights that +give the impression of extreme vastness, when the sky seems higher, when +the passing puffs of tepid breeze seem to bring with them faint whispers +from beyond the stars. The air was full of sweet scent, of the scent +charming, penetrating and violent like the impulse of love. He looked +into that great dark place odorous with the breath of life, with the +mystery of existence, renewed, fecund, indestructible; and he felt +afraid of his solitude, of the solitude of his body, of the loneliness +of his soul in the presence of this unconscious and ardent struggle, +of this lofty indifference, of this merciless and mysterious purpose, +perpetuating strife and death through the march of ages. For the second +time in his life he felt, in a sudden sense of his significance, the +need to send a cry for help into the wilderness, and for the second time +he realized the hopelessness of its unconcern. He could shout for help +on every side--and nobody would answer. He could stretch out his hands, +he could call for aid, for support, for sympathy, for relief--and nobody +would come. Nobody. There was no one there--but that woman. + +His heart was moved, softened with pity at his own abandonment. His +anger against her, against her who was the cause of all his misfortunes, +vanished before his extreme need for some kind of consolation. +Perhaps--if he must resign himself to his fate--she might help him to +forget. To forget! For a moment, in an access of despair so profound +that it seemed like the beginning of peace, he planned the deliberate +descent from his pedestal, the throwing away of his superiority, of +all his hopes, of old ambitions, of the ungrateful civilization. For +a moment, forgetfulness in her arms seemed possible; and lured by that +possibility the semblance of renewed desire possessed his breast in a +burst of reckless contempt for everything outside himself--in a savage +disdain of Earth and of Heaven. He said to himself that he would not +repent. The punishment for his only sin was too heavy. There was no +mercy under Heaven. He did not want any. He thought, desperately, that +if he could find with her again the madness of the past, the strange +delirium that had changed him, that had worked his undoing, he would be +ready to pay for it with an eternity of perdition. He was intoxicated by +the subtle perfumes of the night; he was carried away by the suggestive +stir of the warm breeze; he was possessed by the exaltation of the +solitude, of the silence, of his memories, in the presence of that +figure offering herself in a submissive and patient devotion; coming to +him in the name of the past, in the name of those days when he could see +nothing, think of nothing, desire nothing--but her embrace. + +He took her suddenly in his arms, and she clasped her hands round his +neck with a low cry of joy and surprise. He took her in his arms and +waited for the transport, for the madness, for the sensations remembered +and lost; and while she sobbed gently on his breast he held her and felt +cold, sick, tired, exasperated with his failure--and ended by cursing +himself. She clung to him trembling with the intensity of her +happiness and her love. He heard her whispering--her face hidden on his +shoulder--of past sorrow, of coming joy that would last for ever; of her +unshaken belief in his love. She had always believed. Always! Even while +his face was turned away from her in the dark days while his mind was +wandering in his own land, amongst his own people. But it would never +wander away from her any more, now it had come back. He would forget the +cold faces and the hard hearts of the cruel people. What was there to +remember? Nothing? Was it not so? . . . + +He listened hopelessly to the faint murmur. He stood still and rigid, +pressing her mechanically to his breast while he thought that there was +nothing for him in the world. He was robbed of everything; robbed of +his passion, of his liberty, of forgetfulness, of consolation. She, wild +with delight, whispered on rapidly, of love, of light, of peace, of +long years. . . . He looked drearily above her head down into the deeper +gloom of the courtyard. And, all at once, it seemed to him that he was +peering into a sombre hollow, into a deep black hole full of decay +and of whitened bones; into an immense and inevitable grave full of +corruption where sooner or later he must, unavoidably, fall. + +In the morning he came out early, and stood for a time in the doorway, +listening to the light breathing behind him--in the house. She slept. He +had not closed his eyes through all that night. He stood swaying--then +leaned against the lintel of the door. He was exhausted, done up; +fancied himself hardly alive. He had a disgusted horror of himself that, +as he looked at the level sea of mist at his feet, faded quickly into +dull indifference. It was like a sudden and final decrepitude of his +senses, of his body, of his thoughts. Standing on the high platform, he +looked over the expanse of low night fog above which, here and there, +stood out the feathery heads of tall bamboo clumps and the round tops +of single trees, resembling small islets emerging black and solid from a +ghostly and impalpable sea. Upon the faintly luminous background of the +eastern sky, the sombre line of the great forests bounded that smooth +sea of white vapours with an appearance of a fantastic and unattainable +shore. + +He looked without seeing anything--thinking of himself. Before his eyes +the light of the rising sun burst above the forest with the suddenness +of an explosion. He saw nothing. Then, after a time, he murmured +with conviction--speaking half aloud to himself in the shock of the +penetrating thought: + +"I am a lost man." + +He shook his hand above his head in a gesture careless and tragic, then +walked down into the mist that closed above him in shining undulations +under the first breath of the morning breeze. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +Willems moved languidly towards the river, then retraced his steps to +the tree and let himself fall on the seat under its shade. On the other +side of the immense trunk he could hear the old woman moving about, +sighing loudly, muttering to herself, snapping dry sticks, blowing up +the fire. After a while a whiff of smoke drifted round to where he sat. +It made him feel hungry, and that feeling was like a new indignity added +to an intolerable load of humiliations. He felt inclined to cry. He felt +very weak. He held up his arm before his eyes and watched for a little +while the trembling of the lean limb. Skin and bone, by God! How thin +he was! . . . He had suffered from fever a good deal, and now he thought +with tearful dismay that Lingard, although he had sent him food--and +what food, great Lord: a little rice and dried fish; quite unfit for a +white man--had not sent him any medicine. Did the old savage think that +he was like the wild beasts that are never ill? He wanted quinine. + +He leaned the back of his head against the tree and closed his eyes. +He thought feebly that if he could get hold of Lingard he would like +to flay him alive; but it was only a blurred, a short and a passing +thought. His imagination, exhausted by the repeated delineations of his +own fate, had not enough strength left to grip the idea of revenge. +He was not indignant and rebellious. He was cowed. He was cowed by +the immense cataclysm of his disaster. Like most men, he had carried +solemnly within his breast the whole universe, and the approaching end +of all things in the destruction of his own personality filled him +with paralyzing awe. Everything was toppling over. He blinked his eyes +quickly, and it seemed to him that the very sunshine of the morning +disclosed in its brightness a suggestion of some hidden and sinister +meaning. In his unreasoning fear he tried to hide within himself. He +drew his feet up, his head sank between his shoulders, his arms hugged +his sides. Under the high and enormous tree soaring superbly out of the +mist in a vigorous spread of lofty boughs, with a restless and eager +flutter of its innumerable leaves in the clear sunshine, he remained +motionless, huddled up on his seat: terrified and still. + +Willems' gaze roamed over the ground, and then he watched with idiotic +fixity half a dozen black ants entering courageously a tuft of long +grass which, to them, must have appeared a dark and a dangerous jungle. +Suddenly he thought: There must be something dead in there. Some dead +insect. Death everywhere! He closed his eyes again in an access of +trembling pain. Death everywhere--wherever one looks. He did not want to +see the ants. He did not want to see anybody or anything. He sat in the +darkness of his own making, reflecting bitterly that there was no peace +for him. He heard voices now. . . . Illusion! Misery! Torment! Who would +come? Who would speak to him? What business had he to hear voices? . . . +yet he heard them faintly, from the river. Faintly, as if shouted far +off over there, came the words "We come back soon." . . . Delirium and +mockery! Who would come back? Nobody ever comes back! Fever comes back. +He had it on him this morning. That was it. . . . He heard unexpectedly +the old woman muttering something near by. She had come round to his +side of the tree. He opened his eyes and saw her bent back before +him. She stood, with her hand shading her eyes, looking towards the +landing-place. Then she glided away. She had seen--and now she was going +back to her cooking; a woman incurious; expecting nothing; without fear +and without hope. + +She had gone back behind the tree, and now Willems could see a human +figure on the path to the landing-place. It appeared to him to be a +woman, in a red gown, holding some heavy bundle in her arms; it was an +apparition unexpected, familiar and odd. He cursed through his teeth +. . . It had wanted only this! See things like that in broad daylight! +He was very bad--very bad. . . . He was horribly scared at this awful +symptom of the desperate state of his health. + +This scare lasted for the space of a flash of lightning, and in the +next moment it was revealed to him that the woman was real; that she was +coming towards him; that she was his wife! He put his feet down to the +ground quickly, but made no other movement. His eyes opened wide. He was +so amazed that for a time he absolutely forgot his own existence. The +only idea in his head was: Why on earth did she come here? + +Joanna was coming up the courtyard with eager, hurried steps. She +carried in her arms the child, wrapped up in one of Almayer's white +blankets that she had snatched off the bed at the last moment, before +leaving the house. She seemed to be dazed by the sun in her eyes; +bewildered by her strange surroundings. She moved on, looking quickly +right and left in impatient expectation of seeing her husband at any +moment. Then, approaching the tree, she perceived suddenly a kind of a +dried-up, yellow corpse, sitting very stiff on a bench in the shade and +looking at her with big eyes that were alive. That was her husband. + +She stopped dead short. They stared at one another in profound +stillness, with astounded eyes, with eyes maddened by the memories +of things far off that seemed lost in the lapse of time. Their looks +crossed, passed each other, and appeared to dart at them through +fantastic distances, to come straight from the incredible. + +Looking at him steadily she came nearer, and deposited the blanket with +the child in it on the bench. Little Louis, after howling with terror in +the darkness of the river most of the night, now slept soundly and did +not wake. Willems' eyes followed his wife, his head turning slowly after +her. He accepted her presence there with a tired acquiescence in its +fabulous improbability. Anything might happen. What did she come for? +She was part of the general scheme of his misfortune. He half expected +that she would rush at him, pull his hair, and scratch his face. Why +not? Anything might happen! In an exaggerated sense of his great bodily +weakness he felt somewhat apprehensive of possible assault. At any rate, +she would scream at him. He knew her of old. She could screech. He had +thought that he was rid of her for ever. She came now probably to see +the end. . . . + +Suddenly she turned, and embracing him slid gently to the ground. + +This startled him. With her forehead on his knees she sobbed +noiselessly. He looked down dismally at the top of her head. What was +she up to? He had not the strength to move--to get away. He heard +her whispering something, and bent over to listen. He caught the word +"Forgive." + +That was what she came for! All that way. Women are queer. Forgive. Not +he! . . . All at once this thought darted through his brain: How did she +come? In a boat. Boat! boat! + +He shouted "Boat!" and jumped up, knocking her over. Before she had time +to pick herself up he pounced upon her and was dragging her up by the +shoulders. No sooner had she regained her feet than she clasped him +tightly round the neck, covering his face, his eyes, his mouth, his +nose with desperate kisses. He dodged his head about, shaking her arms, +trying to keep her off, to speak, to ask her. . . . She came in a +boat, boat, boat! . . . They struggled and swung round, tramping in a +semicircle. He blurted out, "Leave off. Listen," while he tore at her +hands. This meeting of lawful love and sincere joy resembled fight. +Louis Willems slept peacefully under his blanket. + +At last Willems managed to free himself, and held her off, pressing +her arms down. He looked at her. He had half a suspicion that he was +dreaming. Her lips trembled; her eyes wandered unsteadily, always coming +back to his face. He saw her the same as ever, in his presence. She +appeared startled, tremulous, ready to cry. She did not inspire him with +confidence. He shouted-- + +"How did you come?" + +She answered in hurried words, looking at him intently-- + +"In a big canoe with three men. I know everything. Lingard's away. I +come to save you. I know. . . . Almayer told me." + +"Canoe!--Almayer--Lies. Told you--You!" stammered Willems in a +distracted manner. "Why you?--Told what?" + +Words failed him. He stared at his wife, thinking with fear that +she--stupid woman--had been made a tool in some plan of treachery . . . +in some deadly plot. + +She began to cry-- + +"Don't look at me like that, Peter. What have I done? I come to beg--to +beg--forgiveness. . . . Save--Lingard--danger." + +He trembled with impatience, with hope, with fear. She looked at him and +sobbed out in a fresh outburst of grief-- + +"Oh! Peter. What's the matter?--Are you ill? . . . Oh! you look so +ill . . ." + +He shook her violently into a terrified and wondering silence. + +"How dare you!--I am well--perfectly well. . . . Where's that boat? Will +you tell me where that boat is--at last? The boat, I say . . . +You! . . ." + +"You hurt me," she moaned. + +He let her go, and, mastering her terror, she stood quivering and +looking at him with strange intensity. Then she made a movement forward, +but he lifted his finger, and she restrained herself with a long sigh. +He calmed down suddenly and surveyed her with cold criticism, with the +same appearance as when, in the old days, he used to find fault with the +household expenses. She found a kind of fearful delight in this abrupt +return into the past, into her old subjection. + +He stood outwardly collected now, and listened to her disconnected +story. Her words seemed to fall round him with the distracting clatter +of stunning hail. He caught the meaning here and there, and straightway +would lose himself in a tremendous effort to shape out some intelligible +theory of events. There was a boat. A boat. A big boat that could take +him to sea if necessary. That much was clear. She brought it. Why did +Almayer lie to her so? Was it a plan to decoy him into some ambush? +Better that than hopeless solitude. She had money. The men were ready to +go anywhere . . . she said. + +He interrupted her-- + +"Where are they now?" + +"They are coming directly," she answered, tearfully. "Directly. There +are some fishing stakes near here--they said. They are coming directly." + +Again she was talking and sobbing together. She wanted to be forgiven. +Forgiven? What for? Ah! the scene in Macassar. As if he had time to +think of that! What did he care what she had done months ago? He seemed +to struggle in the toils of complicated dreams where everything was +impossible, yet a matter of course, where the past took the aspects of +the future and the present lay heavy on his heart--seemed to take him by +the throat like the hand of an enemy. And while she begged, entreated, +kissed his hands, wept on his shoulder, adjured him in the name of God, +to forgive, to forget, to speak the word for which she longed, to look +at his boy, to believe in her sorrow and in her devotion--his eyes, in +the fascinated immobility of shining pupils, looked far away, far beyond +her, beyond the river, beyond this land, through days, weeks, months; +looked into liberty, into the future, into his triumph . . . into the +great possibility of a startling revenge. + +He felt a sudden desire to dance and shout. He shouted-- + +"After all, we shall meet again, Captain Lingard." + +"Oh, no! No!" she cried, joining her hands. + +He looked at her with surprise. He had forgotten she was there till the +break of her cry in the monotonous tones of her prayer recalled him +into that courtyard from the glorious turmoil of his dreams. It was very +strange to see her there--near him. He felt almost affectionate towards +her. After all, she came just in time. Then he thought: That other one. +I must get away without a scene. Who knows; she may be dangerous! . . . +And all at once he felt he hated Aissa with an immense hatred that +seemed to choke him. He said to his wife-- + +"Wait a moment." + +She, obedient, seemed to gulp down some words which wanted to come out. +He muttered: "Stay here," and disappeared round the tree. + +The water in the iron pan on the cooking fire boiled furiously, belching +out volumes of white steam that mixed with the thin black thread of +smoke. The old woman appeared to him through this as if in a fog, +squatting on her heels, impassive and weird. + +Willems came up near and asked, "Where is she?" + +The woman did not even lift her head, but answered at once, readily, as +though she had expected the question for a long time. + +"While you were asleep under the tree, before the strange canoe came, +she went out of the house. I saw her look at you and pass on with a +great light in her eyes. A great light. And she went towards the place +where our master Lakamba had his fruit trees. When we were many here. +Many, many. Men with arms by their side. Many . . . men. And talk . . . +and songs . . ." + +She went on like that, raving gently to herself for a long time after +Willems had left her. + +Willems went back to his wife. He came up close to her and found he had +nothing to say. Now all his faculties were concentrated upon his wish to +avoid Aissa. She might stay all the morning in that grove. Why did those +rascally boatmen go? He had a physical repugnance to set eyes on her. +And somewhere, at the very bottom of his heart, there was a fear of her. +Why? What could she do? Nothing on earth could stop him now. He felt +strong, reckless, pitiless, and superior to everything. He wanted to +preserve before his wife the lofty purity of his character. He thought: +She does not know. Almayer held his tongue about Aissa. But if she finds +out, I am lost. If it hadn't been for the boy I would . . . free of both +of them. . . . The idea darted through his head. Not he! Married. . . . +Swore solemnly. No . . . sacred tie. . . . Looking on his wife, he felt +for the first time in his life something approaching remorse. Remorse, +arising from his conception of the awful nature of an oath before the +altar. . . . She mustn't find out. . . . Oh, for that boat! He must run +in and get his revolver. Couldn't think of trusting himself unarmed with +those Bajow fellows. Get it now while she is away. Oh, for that boat! +. . . He dared not go to the river and hail. He thought: She might hear +me. . . . I'll go and get . . . cartridges . . . then will be all ready +. . . nothing else. No. + +And while he stood meditating profoundly before he could make up his +mind to run to the house, Joanna pleaded, holding to his arm--pleaded +despairingly, broken-hearted, hopeless whenever she glanced up at his +face, which to her seemed to wear the aspect of unforgiving +rectitude, of virtuous severity, of merciless justice. And she pleaded +humbly--abashed before him, before the unmoved appearance of the man she +had wronged in defiance of human and divine laws. He heard not a word of +what she said till she raised her voice in a final appeal-- + +". . . Don't you see I loved you always? They told me horrible things +about you. . . . My own mother! They told me--you have been--you have +been unfaithful to me, and I . . ." + +"It's a damned lie!" shouted Willems, waking up for a moment into +righteous indignation. + +"I know! I know--Be generous.--Think of my misery since you went +away--Oh! I could have torn my tongue out. . . . I will never believe +anybody--Look at the boy--Be merciful--I could never rest till I found +you. . . . Say--a word--one word. . ." + +"What the devil do you want?" exclaimed Willems, looking towards the +river. "Where's that damned boat? Why did you let them go away? You +stupid!" + +"Oh, Peter!--I know that in your heart you have forgiven me--You are so +generous--I want to hear you say so. . . . Tell me--do you?" + +"Yes! yes!" said Willems, impatiently. "I forgive you. Don't be a fool." + +"Don't go away. Don't leave me alone here. Where is the danger? I am so +frightened. . . . Are you alone here? Sure? . . . Let us go away!" + +"That's sense," said Willems, still looking anxiously towards the river. + +She sobbed gently, leaning on his arm. + +"Let me go," he said. + +He had seen above the steep bank the heads of three men glide along +smoothly. Then, where the shore shelved down to the landing-place, +appeared a big canoe which came slowly to land. + +"Here they are," he went on, briskly. "I must get my revolver." + +He made a few hurried paces towards the house, but seemed to catch sight +of something, turned short round and came back to his wife. She stared +at him, alarmed by the sudden change in his face. He appeared much +discomposed. He stammered a little as he began to speak. + +"Take the child. Walk down to the boat and tell them to drop it out of +sight, quick, behind the bushes. Do you hear? Quick! I will come to you +there directly. Hurry up!" + +"Peter! What is it? I won't leave you. There is some danger in this +horrible place." + +"Will you do what I tell you?" said Willems, in an irritable whisper. + +"No! no! no! I won't leave you. I will not lose you again. Tell me, what +is it?" + +From beyond the house came a faint voice singing. Willems shook his wife +by the shoulder. + +"Do what I tell you! Run at once!" + +She gripped his arm and clung to him desperately. He looked up to heaven +as if taking it to witness of that woman's infernal folly. + +The song grew louder, then ceased suddenly, and Aissa appeared in sight, +walking slowly, her hands full of flowers. + +She had turned the corner of the house, coming out into the full +sunshine, and the light seemed to leap upon her in a stream brilliant, +tender, and caressing, as if attracted by the radiant happiness of her +face. She had dressed herself for a festive day, for the memorable day +of his return to her, of his return to an affection that would last for +ever. The rays of the morning sun were caught by the oval clasp of the +embroidered belt that held the silk sarong round her waist. The dazzling +white stuff of her body jacket was crossed by a bar of yellow and silver +of her scarf, and in the black hair twisted high on her small head +shone the round balls of gold pins amongst crimson blossoms and white +star-shaped flowers, with which she had crowned herself to charm his +eyes; those eyes that were henceforth to see nothing in the world but +her own resplendent image. And she moved slowly, bending her face over +the mass of pure white champakas and jasmine pressed to her breast, in a +dreamy intoxication of sweet scents and of sweeter hopes. + +She did not seem to see anything, stopped for a moment at the foot of +the plankway leading to the house, then, leaving her high-heeled wooden +sandals there, ascended the planks in a light run; straight, graceful, +flexible, and noiseless, as if she had soared up to the door on +invisible wings. Willems pushed his wife roughly behind the tree, and +made up his mind quickly for a rush to the house, to grab his revolver +and . . . Thoughts, doubts, expedients seemed to boil in his brain. He +had a flashing vision of delivering a stunning blow, of tying up that +flower bedecked woman in the dark house--a vision of things done swiftly +with enraged haste--to save his prestige, his superiority--something of +immense importance. . . . He had not made two steps when Joanna bounded +after him, caught the back of his ragged jacket, tore out a big piece, +and instantly hooked herself with both hands to the collar, nearly +dragging him down on his back. Although taken by surprise, he managed to +keep his feet. From behind she panted into his ear-- + +"That woman! Who's that woman? Ah! that's what those boatmen were +talking about. I heard them . . . heard them . . . heard . . . in the +night. They spoke about some woman. I dared not understand. I would not +ask . . . listen . . . believe! How could I? Then it's true. No. Say no. +. . . Who's that woman?" + +He swayed, tugging forward. She jerked at him till the button gave way, +and then he slipped half out of his jacket and, turning round, remained +strangely motionless. His heart seemed to beat in his throat. He +choked--tried to speak--could not find any words. He thought with fury: +I will kill both of them. + +For a second nothing moved about the courtyard in the great vivid +clearness of the day. Only down by the landing-place a waringan-tree, +all in a blaze of clustering red berries, seemed alive with the stir of +little birds that filled with the feverish flutter of their feathers +the tangle of overloaded branches. Suddenly the variegated flock rose +spinning in a soft whirr and dispersed, slashing the sunlit haze with +the sharp outlines of stiffened wings. Mahmat and one of his brothers +appeared coming up from the landing-place, their lances in their hands, +to look for their passengers. + +Aissa coming now empty-handed out of the house, caught sight of the two +armed men. In her surprise she emitted a faint cry, vanished back and in +a flash reappeared in the doorway with Willems' revolver in her hand. +To her the presence of any man there could only have an ominous meaning. +There was nothing in the outer world but enemies. She and the man she +loved were alone, with nothing round them but menacing dangers. She did +not mind that, for if death came, no matter from what hand, they would +die together. + +Her resolute eyes took in the courtyard in a circular glance. She +noticed that the two strangers had ceased to advance and now were +standing close together leaning on the polished shafts of their weapons. +The next moment she saw Willems, with his back towards her, apparently +struggling under the tree with some one. She saw nothing distinctly, +and, unhesitating, flew down the plankway calling out: "I come!" + +He heard her cry, and with an unexpected rush drove his wife backwards +to the seat. She fell on it; he jerked himself altogether out of his +jacket, and she covered her face with the soiled rags. He put his lips +close to her, asking-- + +"For the last time, will you take the child and go?" + +She groaned behind the unclean ruins of his upper garment. She mumbled +something. He bent lower to hear. She was saying-- + +"I won't. Order that woman away. I can't look at her!" + +"You fool!" + +He seemed to spit the words at her, then, making up his mind, spun round +to face Aissa. She was coming towards them slowly now, with a look of +unbounded amazement on her face. Then she stopped and stared at him--who +stood there, stripped to the waist, bare-headed and sombre. + +Some way off, Mahmat and his brother exchanged rapid words in calm +undertones. . . . This was the strong daughter of the holy man who had +died. The white man is very tall. There would be three women and the +child to take in the boat, besides that white man who had the money +. . . . The brother went away back to the boat, and Mahmat remained +looking on. He stood like a sentinel, the leaf-shaped blade of his +lance glinting above his head. + +Willems spoke suddenly. + +"Give me this," he said, stretching his hand towards the revolver. + +Aissa stepped back. Her lips trembled. She said very low: "Your people?" + +He nodded slightly. She shook her head thoughtfully, and a few delicate +petals of the flowers dying in her hair fell like big drops of crimson +and white at her feet. + +"Did you know?" she whispered. + +"No!" said Willems. "They sent for me." + +"Tell them to depart. They are accursed. What is there between them and +you--and you who carry my life in your heart!" + +Willems said nothing. He stood before her looking down on the ground and +repeating to himself: I must get that revolver away from her, at +once, at once. I can't think of trusting myself with those men without +firearms. I must have it. + +She asked, after gazing in silence at Joanna, who was sobbing gently-- + +"Who is she?" + +"My wife," answered Willems, without looking up. "My wife according to +our white law, which comes from God!" + +"Your law! Your God!" murmured Aissa, contemptuously. + +"Give me this revolver," said Willems, in a peremptory tone. He felt an +unwillingness to close with her, to get it by force. + +She took no notice and went on-- + +"Your law . . . or your lies? What am I to believe? I came--I ran to +defend you when I saw the strange men. You lied to me with your lips, +with your eyes. You crooked heart! . . . Ah!" she added, after an abrupt +pause. "She is the first! Am I then to be a slave?" + +"You may be what you like," said Willems, brutally. "I am going." + +Her gaze was fastened on the blanket under which she had detected a +slight movement. She made a long stride towards it. Willems turned half +round. His legs seemed to him to be made of lead. He felt faint and so +weak that, for a moment, the fear of dying there where he stood, before +he could escape from sin and disaster, passed through his mind in a wave +of despair. + +She lifted up one corner of the blanket, and when she saw the sleeping +child a sudden quick shudder shook her as though she had seen something +inexpressibly horrible. She looked at Louis Willems with eyes fixed in +an unbelieving and terrified stare. Then her fingers opened slowly, and +a shadow seemed to settle on her face as if something obscure and fatal +had come between her and the sunshine. She stood looking down, absorbed, +as though she had watched at the bottom of a gloomy abyss the mournful +procession of her thoughts. + +Willems did not move. All his faculties were concentrated upon the idea +of his release. And it was only then that the assurance of it came to +him with such force that he seemed to hear a loud voice shouting in the +heavens that all was over, that in another five, ten minutes, he would +step into another existence; that all this, the woman, the madness, the +sin, the regrets, all would go, rush into the past, disappear, become as +dust, as smoke, as drifting clouds--as nothing! Yes! All would vanish in +the unappeasable past which would swallow up all--even the very memory +of his temptation and of his downfall. Nothing mattered. He cared for +nothing. He had forgotten Aissa, his wife, Lingard, Hudig--everybody, in +the rapid vision of his hopeful future. + +After a while he heard Aissa saying-- + +"A child! A child! What have I done to be made to devour this sorrow and +this grief? And while your man-child and the mother lived you told me +there was nothing for you to remember in the land from which you came! +And I thought you could be mine. I thought that I would . . ." + +Her voice ceased in a broken murmur, and with it, in her heart, seemed +to die the greater and most precious hope of her new life. + +She had hoped that in the future the frail arms of a child would bind +their two lives together in a bond which nothing on earth could break, +a bond of affection, of gratitude, of tender respect. She the first--the +only one! But in the instant she saw the son of that other woman she +felt herself removed into the cold, the darkness, the silence of +a solitude impenetrable and immense--very far from him, beyond the +possibility of any hope, into an infinity of wrongs without any redress. + +She strode nearer to Joanna. She felt towards that woman anger, envy, +jealousy. Before her she felt humiliated and enraged. She seized the +hanging sleeve of the jacket in which Joanna was hiding her face and +tore it out of her hands, exclaiming loudly-- + +"Let me see the face of her before whom I am only a servant and a slave. +Ya-wa! I see you!" + +Her unexpected shout seemed to fill the sunlit space of cleared grounds, +rise high and run on far into the land over the unstirring tree-tops +of the forests. She stood in sudden stillness, looking at Joanna with +surprised contempt. + +"A Sirani woman!" she said, slowly, in a tone of wonder. + +Joanna rushed at Willems--clung to him, shrieking: "Defend me, Peter! +Defend me from that woman!" + +"Be quiet. There is no danger," muttered Willems, thickly. + +Aissa looked at them with scorn. "God is great! I sit in the dust at +your feet," she exclaimed jeeringly, joining her hands above her head in +a gesture of mock humility. "Before you I am as nothing." She turned to +Willems fiercely, opening her arms wide. "What have you made of me?" she +cried, "you lying child of an accursed mother! What have you made of me? +The slave of a slave. Don't speak! Your words are worse than the poison +of snakes. A Sirani woman. A woman of a people despised by all." + +She pointed her finger at Joanna, stepped back, and began to laugh. + +"Make her stop, Peter!" screamed Joanna. "That heathen woman. Heathen! +Heathen! Beat her, Peter." + +Willems caught sight of the revolver which Aissa had laid on the seat +near the child. He spoke in Dutch to his wife, without moving his head. + +"Snatch the boy--and my revolver there. See. Run to the boat. I will +keep her back. Now's the time." + +Aissa came nearer. She stared at Joanna, while between the short gusts +of broken laughter she raved, fumbling distractedly at the buckle of her +belt. + +"To her! To her--the mother of him who will speak of your wisdom, of +your courage. All to her. I have nothing. Nothing. Take, take." + +She tore the belt off and threw it at Joanna's feet. She flung down +with haste the armlets, the gold pins, the flowers; and the long hair, +released, fell scattered over her shoulders, framing in its blackness +the wild exaltation of her face. + +"Drive her off, Peter. Drive off the heathen savage," persisted Joanna. +She seemed to have lost her head altogether. She stamped, clinging to +Willems' arm with both her hands. + +"Look," cried Aissa. "Look at the mother of your son! She is afraid. Why +does she not go from before my face? Look at her. She is ugly." + +Joanna seemed to understand the scornful tone of the words. As Aissa +stepped back again nearer to the tree she let go her husband's arm, +rushed at her madly, slapped her face, then, swerving round, darted at +the child who, unnoticed, had been wailing for some time, and, snatching +him up, flew down to the waterside, sending shriek after shriek in an +access of insane terror. + +Willems made for the revolver. Aissa passed swiftly, giving him an +unexpected push that sent him staggering away from the tree. She caught +up the weapon, put it behind her back, and cried-- + +"You shall not have it. Go after her. Go to meet danger. . . . Go to +meet death. . . . Go unarmed. . . . Go with empty hands and sweet words +. . . as you came to me. . . . Go helpless and lie to the forests, to +the sea . . . to the death that waits for you. . . ." + +She ceased as if strangled. She saw in the horror of the passing +seconds the half-naked, wild-looking man before her; she heard the faint +shrillness of Joanna's insane shrieks for help somewhere down by the +riverside. The sunlight streamed on her, on him, on the mute land, on +the murmuring river--the gentle brilliance of a serene morning that, +to her, seemed traversed by ghastly flashes of uncertain darkness. Hate +filled the world, filled the space between them--the hate of race, the +hate of hopeless diversity, the hate of blood; the hate against the man +born in the land of lies and of evil from which nothing but misfortune +comes to those who are not white. And as she stood, maddened, she heard +a whisper near her, the whisper of the dead Omar's voice saying in her +ear: "Kill! Kill!" + +She cried, seeing him move-- + +"Do not come near me . . . or you die now! Go while I remember yet . . . +remember. . . ." + +Willems pulled himself together for a struggle. He dared not go unarmed. +He made a long stride, and saw her raise the revolver. He noticed that +she had not cocked it, and said to himself that, even if she did fire, +she would surely miss. Go too high; it was a stiff trigger. He made a +step nearer--saw the long barrel moving unsteadily at the end of her +extended arm. He thought: This is my time . . . He bent his knees +slightly, throwing his body forward, and took off with a long bound for +a tearing rush. + +He saw a burst of red flame before his eyes, and was deafened by a +report that seemed to him louder than a clap of thunder. Something +stopped him short, and he stood aspiring in his nostrils the acrid smell +of the blue smoke that drifted from before his eyes like an immense +cloud. . . . Missed, by Heaven! . . . Thought so! . . . And he saw her +very far off, throwing her arms up, while the revolver, very small, lay +on the ground between them. . . . Missed! . . . He would go and pick it +up now. Never before did he understand, as in that second, the joy, +the triumphant delight of sunshine and of life. His mouth was full of +something salt and warm. He tried to cough; spat out. . . . Who +shrieks: In the name of God, he dies!--he dies!--Who dies?--Must pick +up--Night!--What? . . . Night already. . . . + +* * * * * * + + +Many years afterwards Almayer was telling the story of the great +revolution in Sambir to a chance visitor from Europe. He was a +Roumanian, half naturalist, half orchid-hunter for commercial purposes, +who used to declare to everybody, in the first five minutes of +acquaintance, his intention of writing a scientific book about tropical +countries. On his way to the interior he had quartered himself upon +Almayer. He was a man of some education, but he drank his gin neat, or +only, at most, would squeeze the juice of half a small lime into the +raw spirit. He said it was good for his health, and, with that medicine +before him, he would describe to the surprised Almayer the wonders of +European capitals; while Almayer, in exchange, bored him by expounding, +with gusto, his unfavourable opinions of Sambir's social and political +life. They talked far into the night, across the deal table on the +verandah, while, between them, clear-winged, small, and flabby insects, +dissatisfied with moonlight, streamed in and perished in thousands round +the smoky light of the evil-smelling lamp. + +Almayer, his face flushed, was saying-- + +"Of course, I did not see that. I told you I was stuck in the creek on +account of father's--Captain Lingard's--susceptible temper. I am sure I +did it all for the best in trying to facilitate the fellow's escape; but +Captain Lingard was that kind of man--you know--one couldn't argue with. +Just before sunset the water was high enough, and we got out of the +creek. We got to Lakamba's clearing about dark. All very quiet; I +thought they were gone, of course, and felt very glad. We walked up the +courtyard--saw a big heap of something lying in the middle. Out of +that she rose and rushed at us. By God. . . . You know those stories of +faithful dogs watching their masters' corpses . . . don't let anybody +approach . . . got to beat them off--and all that. . . . Well, 'pon my +word we had to beat her off. Had to! She was like a fury. Wouldn't let +us touch him. Dead--of course. Should think so. Shot through the lung, +on the left side, rather high up, and at pretty close quarters too, for +the two holes were small. Bullet came out through the shoulder-blade. +After we had overpowered her--you can't imagine how strong that woman +was; it took three of us--we got the body into the boat and shoved off. +We thought she had fainted then, but she got up and rushed into the +water after us. Well, I let her clamber in. What could I do? The river's +full of alligators. I will never forget that pull up-stream in the night +as long as I live. She sat in the bottom of the boat, holding his head +in her lap, and now and again wiping his face with her hair. There was +a lot of blood dried about his mouth and chin. And for all the six hours +of that journey she kept on whispering tenderly to that corpse! . . . +I had the mate of the schooner with me. The man said afterwards that +he wouldn't go through it again--not for a handful of diamonds. And I +believed him--I did. It makes me shiver. Do you think he heard? No! I +mean somebody--something--heard? . . ." + +"I am a materialist," declared the man of science, tilting the bottle +shakily over the emptied glass. + +Almayer shook his head and went on-- + +"Nobody saw how it really happened but that man Mahmat. He always said +that he was no further off from them than two lengths of his lance. It +appears the two women rowed each other while that Willems stood between +them. Then Mahmat says that when Joanna struck her and ran off, the +other two seemed to become suddenly mad together. They rushed here +and there. Mahmat says--those were his very words: 'I saw her standing +holding the pistol that fires many times and pointing it all over the +campong. I was afraid--lest she might shoot me, and jumped on one side. +Then I saw the white man coming at her swiftly. He came like our master +the tiger when he rushes out of the jungle at the spears held by men. +She did not take aim. The barrel of her weapon went like this--from side +to side, but in her eyes I could see suddenly a great fear. There was +only one shot. She shrieked while the white man stood blinking his eyes +and very straight, till you could count slowly one, two, three; then +he coughed and fell on his face. The daughter of Omar shrieked without +drawing breath, till he fell. I went away then and left silence behind +me. These things did not concern me, and in my boat there was that other +woman who had promised me money. We left directly, paying no attention +to her cries. We are only poor men--and had but a small reward for our +trouble!' That's what Mahmat said. Never varied. You ask him yourself. +He's the man you hired the boats from, for your journey up the river." + +"The most rapacious thief I ever met!" exclaimed the traveller, thickly. + +"Ah! He is a respectable man. His two brothers got themselves +speared--served them right. They went in for robbing Dyak graves. Gold +ornaments in them you know. Serve them right. But he kept respectable +and got on. Aye! Everybody got on--but I. And all through that scoundrel +who brought the Arabs here." + +"De mortuis nil ni . . . num," muttered Almayer's guest. + +"I wish you would speak English instead of jabbering in your own +language, which no one can understand," said Almayer, sulkily. + +"Don't be angry," hiccoughed the other. "It's Latin, and it's wisdom. It +means: Don't waste your breath in abusing shadows. No offence there. I +like you. You have a quarrel with Providence--so have I. I was meant to +be a professor, while--look." + +His head nodded. He sat grasping the glass. Almayer walked up and down, +then stopped suddenly. + +"Yes, they all got on but I. Why? I am better than any of them. Lakamba +calls himself a Sultan, and when I go to see him on business sends that +one-eyed fiend of his--Babalatchi--to tell me that the ruler is +asleep; and shall sleep for a long time. And that Babalatchi! He is the +Shahbandar of the State--if you please. Oh Lord! Shahbandar! The pig! A +vagabond I wouldn't let come up these steps when he first came here. +. . . Look at Abdulla now. He lives here because--he says--here he is +away from white men. But he has hundreds of thousands. Has a house in +Penang. Ships. What did he not have when he stole my trade from me! +He knocked everything here into a cocked hat, drove father to +gold-hunting--then to Europe, where he disappeared. Fancy a man like +Captain Lingard disappearing as though he had been a common coolie. +Friends of mine wrote to London asking about him. Nobody ever heard of +him there! Fancy! Never heard of Captain Lingard!" + +The learned gatherer of orchids lifted his head. + +"He was a sen--sentimen--tal old buc--buccaneer," he stammered out, "I +like him. I'm sent--tal myself." + +He winked slowly at Almayer, who laughed. + +"Yes! I told you about that gravestone. Yes! Another hundred and twenty +dollars thrown away. Wish I had them now. He would do it. And the +inscription. Ha! ha! ha! 'Peter Willems, Delivered by the Mercy of God +from his Enemy.' What enemy--unless Captain Lingard himself? And then it +has no sense. He was a great man--father was--but strange in many ways. +. . . You haven't seen the grave? On the top of that hill, there, on the +other side of the river. I must show you. We will go there." + +"Not I!" said the other. "No interest--in the sun--too tiring. . . . +Unless you carry me there." + +As a matter of fact he was carried there a few months afterwards, and +his was the second white man's grave in Sambir; but at present he was +alive if rather drunk. He asked abruptly-- + +"And the woman?" + +"Oh! Lingard, of course, kept her and her ugly brat in Macassar. Sinful +waste of money--that! Devil only knows what became of them since father +went home. I had my daughter to look after. I shall give you a word to +Mrs. Vinck in Singapore when you go back. You shall see my Nina there. +Lucky man. She is beautiful, and I hear so accomplished, so . . ." + +"I have heard already twenty . . . a hundred times about your daughter. +What ab--about--that--that other one, Ai--ssa?" + +"She! Oh! we kept her here. She was mad for a long time in a quiet sort +of way. Father thought a lot of her. He gave her a house to live in, +in my campong. She wandered about, speaking to nobody unless she caught +sight of Abdulla, when she would have a fit of fury, and shriek and +curse like anything. Very often she would disappear--and then we all had +to turn out and hunt for her, because father would worry till she was +brought back. Found her in all kinds of places. Once in the abandoned +campong of Lakamba. Sometimes simply wandering in the bush. She had one +favourite spot we always made for at first. It was ten to one on finding +her there--a kind of a grassy glade on the banks of a small brook. Why +she preferred that place, I can't imagine! And such a job to get her +away from there. Had to drag her away by main force. Then, as the time +passed, she became quieter and more settled, like. Still, all my people +feared her greatly. It was my Nina that tamed her. You see the child was +naturally fearless and used to have her own way, so she would go to +her and pull at her sarong, and order her about, as she did everybody. +Finally she, I verily believe, came to love the child. Nothing could +resist that little one--you know. She made a capital nurse. Once when +the little devil ran away from me and fell into the river off the end +of the jetty, she jumped in and pulled her out in no time. I very nearly +died of fright. Now of course she lives with my serving girls, but does +what she likes. As long as I have a handful of rice or a piece of cotton +in the store she sha'n't want for anything. You have seen her. She +brought in the dinner with Ali." + +"What! That doubled-up crone?" + +"Ah!" said Almayer. "They age quickly here. And long foggy nights spent +in the bush will soon break the strongest backs--as you will find out +yourself soon." + +"Dis . . . disgusting," growled the traveller. + +He dozed off. Almayer stood by the balustrade looking out at the bluish +sheen of the moonlit night. The forests, unchanged and sombre, seemed +to hang over the water, listening to the unceasing whisper of the great +river; and above their dark wall the hill on which Lingard had buried +the body of his late prisoner rose in a black, rounded mass, upon +the silver paleness of the sky. Almayer looked for a long time at +the clean-cut outline of the summit, as if trying to make out through +darkness and distance the shape of that expensive tombstone. When he +turned round at last he saw his guest sleeping, his arms on the table, +his head on his arms. + +"Now, look here!" he shouted, slapping the table with the palm of his +hand. + +The naturalist woke up, and sat all in a heap, staring owlishly. + +"Here!" went on Almayer, speaking very loud and thumping the table, "I +want to know. You, who say you have read all the books, just tell me +. . . why such infernal things are ever allowed. Here I am! Done harm to +nobody, lived an honest life . . . and a scoundrel like that is born in +Rotterdam or some such place at the other end of the world somewhere, +travels out here, robs his employer, runs away from his wife, and ruins +me and my Nina--he ruined me, I tell you--and gets himself shot at last +by a poor miserable savage, that knows nothing at all about him really. +Where's the sense of all this? Where's your Providence? Where's the good +for anybody in all this? The world's a swindle! A swindle! Why should I +suffer? What have I done to be treated so?" + +He howled out his string of questions, and suddenly became silent. +The man who ought to have been a professor made a tremendous effort to +articulate distinctly-- + +"My dear fellow, don't--don't you see that the ba-bare fac--the fact of +your existence is off--offensive. . . . I--I like you--like . . ." + +He fell forward on the table, and ended his remarks by an unexpected and +prolonged snore. + +Almayer shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the balustrade. + +He drank his own trade gin very seldom, but when he did, a ridiculously +small quantity of the stuff could induce him to assume a rebellious +attitude towards the scheme of the universe. And now, throwing his body +over the rail, he shouted impudently into the night, turning his face +towards that far-off and invisible slab of imported granite upon which +Lingard had thought fit to record God's mercy and Willems' escape. + +"Father was wrong--wrong!" he yelled. "I want you to smart for it. You +must smart for it! Where are you, Willems? Hey? . . . Hey? . . . Where +there is no mercy for you--I hope!" + +"Hope," repeated in a whispering echo the startled forests, the river +and the hills; and Almayer, who stood waiting, with a smile of tipsy +attention on his lips, heard no other answer. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's An Outcast of the Islands, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS *** + +***** This file should be named 638.txt or 638.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/638/ + +Produced by Judith 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* + + + AN OUTCAST OF + THE ISLANDS + + BY + JOSEPH CONRAD + + + + + + + Pues el delito mayor + Del hombre es haber nacito + --CALDERON + + + + + + + + TO + EDWARD LANCELOT SANDERSON + +[page intentionally blank] + + + AUTHOR'S NOTE + + "<i>An Outcast of the Islands</I>" is my second novel in the +absolute sense of the word; second in conception, second +in execution, second as it were in its essence. There +was no hesitation, half-formed plan, vague idea, or the +vaguest reverie of anything else between it and +"<i>Almayer's Folly</I>." The only doubt I suffered from, +after the publication of "<i>Almayer's Folly</I>," was whether +I should write another line for print. Those days, now +grown so dim, had their poignant moments. Neither in +my mind nor in my heart had I then given up the sea. +In truth I was clinging to it desperately, all the more +desperately because, against my will, I could not help +feeling that there was something changed in my rela- +tion to it. "<i>Almayer's Folly</I>," had been finished and +done with. The mood itself was gone. But it had +left the memory of an experience that, both in thought +and emotion was unconnected with the sea, and I sup- +pose that part of my moral being which is rooted in +consistency was badly shaken. I was a victim of +contrary stresses which produced a state of immobility. +I gave myself up to indolence. Since it was impossible +for me to face both ways I had elected to face nothing. +The discovery of new values in life is a very chaotic +experience; there is a tremendous amount of jostling +and confusion and a momentary feeling of darkness. +I let my spirit float supine over that chaos. + A phrase of Edward Garnett's is, as a matter of fact, +responsible for this book. The first of the friends I + +ix + + +x AUTHOR'S NOTE + +made for myself by my pen it was but natural that he +should be the recipient, at that time, of my confidences. +One evening when we had dined together and he had +listened to the account of my perplexities (I fear he +must have been growing a little tired of them) he +pointed out that there was no need to determine my +future absolutely. Then he added: "You have the +style, you have the temperament; why not write an- +other?" I believe that as far as one man may wish to +influence another man's life Edward Garnett had a +great desire that I should go on writing. At that time, +and I may say, ever afterwards, he was always very +patient and gentle with me. What strikes me most +however in the phrase quoted above which was offered +to me in a tone of detachment is not its gentleness but +its effective wisdom. Had he said, "Why not go on +writing," it is very probable he would have scared me +away from pen and ink for ever; but there was nothing +either to frighten one or arouse one's antagonism in the +mere suggestion to "write another." And thus a dead +point in the revolution of my affairs was insidiously got +over. The word "another" did it. At about eleven +o'clock of a nice London night, Edward and I walked +along interminable streets talking of many things, and +I remember that on getting home I sat down and +wrote about half a page of "<i>An Outcast of the Islands</I>" +before I slept. This was committing myself definitely, +I won't say to another life, but to another book. There +is apparently something in my character which will +not allow me to abandon for good any piece of work I +have begun. I have laid aside many beginnings. I +have laid them aside with sorrow, with disgust, with +rage, with melancholy and even with self-contempt; +but even at the worst I had an uneasy consciousness +that I would have to go back to them. + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE xi + + "<i>An Outcast of the Islands</I>" belongs to those novels of +mine that were never laid aside; and though it brought +me the qualification of "exotic writer" I don't think +the charge was at all justified. For the life of me I +don't see that there is the slightest exotic spirit in the +conception or style of that novel. It is certainly the +most <i>tropical</I> of my eastern tales. The mere scenery got +a great hold on me as I went on, perhaps because (I +may just as well confess that) the story itself was never +very near my heart. It engaged my imagination +much more than my affection. As to my feeling for +Willems it was but the regard one cannot help having +for one's own creation. Obviously I could not be in- +different to a man on whose head I had brought so +much evil simply by imagining him such as he appears +in the novel--and that, too, on a very slight foundation. + The man who suggested Willems to me was not par- +ticularly interesting in himself. My interest was +aroused by his dependent position, his strange, dubious +status of a mistrusted, disliked, worn-out European +living on the reluctant toleration of that Settlement +hidden in the heart of the forest-land, up that sombre +stream which our ship was the only white men's ship +to visit. With his hollow, clean-shaved cheeks, a heavy +grey moustache and eyes without any expression what- +ever, clad always in a spotless sleeping suit much be- +frogged in front, which left his lean neck wholly un- +covered, and with his bare feet in a pair of straw slip- +pers, he wandered silently amongst the houses in day- +light, almost as dumb as an animal and apparently +much more homeless. I don't know what he did with +himself at night. He must have had a place, a hut, +a palm-leaf shed, some sort of hovel where he kept +his razor and his change of sleeping suits. An air of +futile mystery hung over him, something not exactly + + +xii AUTHOR'S NOTE + +dark but obviously ugly. The only definite state- +ment I could extract from anybody was that it was he +who had "brought the Arabs into the river." That +must have happened many years before. But how +did he bring them into the river? He could hardly +have done it in his arms like a lot of kittens. I knew +that Almayer founded the chronology of all his mis- +fortunes on the date of that fateful advent; and yet the +very first time we dined with Almayer there was Will- +ems sitting at table with us in the manner of the skele- +ton at the feast, obviously shunned by everybody, +never addressed by any one, and for all recognition of +his existence getting now and then from Almayer a +venomous glance which I observed with great +surprise. In the course of the whole evening he ven- +tured one single remark which I didn't catch because +his articulation was imperfect, as of a man who had +forgotten how to speak. I was the only person who +seemed aware of the sound. Willems subsided. Pres- +ently he retired, pointedly unnoticed--into the forest +maybe? Its immensity was there, within three hundred +yards of the verandah, ready to swallow up anything. +Almayer conversing with my captain did not stop talking +while he glared angrily at the retreating back. Didn't +that fellow bring the Arabs into the river! Nevertheless +Willems turned up next morning on Almayer's verandah. +From the bridge of the steamer I could see plainly these +two, breakfasting together, tete a tete and, I suppose, in +dead silence, one with his air of being no longer inter- +ested in this world and the other raising his eyes now +and then with intense dislike. + It was clear that in those days Willems lived on +Almayer's charity. Yet on returning two months +later to Sambir I heard that he had gone on an expedi- +tion up the river in charge of a steam-launch belonging + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE xiii + +to the Arabs, to make some discovery or other. On +account of the strange reluctance that everyone man- +ifested to talk about Willems it was impossible for me +to get at the rights of that transaction. Moreover, I +was a newcomer, the youngest of the company, and, +I suspect, not judged quite fit as yet for a full con- +fidence. I was not much concerned about that ex- +clusion. The faint suggestion of plots and mys- +teries pertaining to all matters touching Almayer's +affairs amused me vastly. Almayer was obviously +very much affected. I believe he missed Willems im- +mensely. He wore an air of sinister preoccupation +and talked confidentially with my captain. I could +catch only snatches of mumbled sentences. Then one +morning as I came along the deck to take my place at +the breakfast table Almayer checked himself in his +low-toned discourse. My captain's face was per- +fectly impenetrable. There was a moment of profound +silence and then as if unable to contain himself Almayer +burst out in a loud vicious tone: + "One thing's certain; if he finds anything worth hav- +ing up there they will poison him like a dog." + Disconnected though it was, that phrase, as food for +thought, was distinctly worth hearing. We left the +river three days afterwards and I never returned to +Sambir; but whatever happened to the protagonist of +my Willems nobody can deny that I have recorded for +him a less squalid fate. + + J. C. +1919. + +[page intentionally blank] + + + + PART I + + +[page intentionally blank] + + <b>AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS</b> + + CHAPTER ONE + + WHEN he stepped off the straight and narrow path +of his peculiar honesty, it was with an inward assertion +of unflinching resolve to fall back again into the mo- +notonous but safe stride of virtue as soon as his little +excursion into the wayside quagmires had produced +the desired effect. It was going to be a short episode +--a sentence in brackets, so to speak--in the flowing +tale of his life: a thing of no moment, to be done un- +willingly, yet neatly, and to be quickly forgotten. He +imagined that he could go on afterwards looking at the +sunshine, enjoying the shade, breathing in the perfume +of flowers in the small garden before his house. He +fancied that nothing would be changed, that he would +be able as heretofore to tyrannize good-humouredly +over his half-caste wife, to notice with tender contempt +his pale yellow child, to patronize loftily his dark- +skinned brother-in-law, who loved pink neckties and +wore patent-leather boots on his little feet, and was so +humble before the white husband of the lucky sister. +Those were the delights of his life, and he was unable +to conceive that the moral significance of any act of +his could interfere with the very nature of things, could +dim the light of the sun, could destroy the perfume of +the flowers, the submission of his wife, the smile of his +child, the awe-struck respect of Leonard da Souza and +of all the Da Souza family. That family's admiration + +3 + + +4 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +was the great luxury of his life. It rounded and com- +pleted his existence in a perpetual assurance of unques- +tionable superiority. He loved to breathe the coarse +incense they offered before the shrine of the successful +white man; the man that had done them the honour +to marry their daughter, sister, cousin; the rising man +sure to climb very high; the confidential clerk of Hudig +& Co. They were a numerous and an unclean crowd, +living in ruined bamboo houses, surrounded by neg- +lected compounds, on the outskirts of Macassar. He +kept them at arm's length and even further off, per- +haps, having no illusions as to their worth. They +were a half-caste, lazy lot, and he saw them as they +were--ragged, lean, unwashed, undersized men of +various ages, shuffling about aimlessly in slippers; +motionless old women who looked like monstrous bags +of pink calico stuffed with shapeless lumps of fat, and +deposited askew upon decaying rattan chairs in shady +corners of dusty verandahs; young women, slim and +yellow, big-eyed, long-haired, moving languidly amongst +the dirt and rubbish of their dwellings as if every step +they took was going to be their very last. He heard +their shrill quarrellings, the squalling of their children, +the grunting of their pigs; he smelt the odours of the +heaps of garbage in their courtyards: and he was greatly +disgusted. But he fed and clothed that shabby multi- +tude; those degenerate descendants of Portuguese con- +querors; he was their providence; he kept them singing +his praises in the midst of their laziness, of their dirt, +of their immense and hopeless squalor: and he was +greatly delighted. They wanted much, but he could +give them all they wanted without ruining himself. +In exchange he had their silent fear, their loquacious +love, their noisy veneration. It is a fine thing to be a +providence, and to be told so on every day of one's life. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 5 + +It gives one a feeling of enormously remote superiority, +and Willems revelled in it. He did not analyze the +state of his mind, but probably his greatest delight lay +in the unexpressed but intimate conviction that, should +he close his hand, all those admiring human beings +would starve. His munificence had demoralized them. +An easy task. Since he descended amongst them and +married Joanna they had lost the little aptitude and +strength for work they might have had to put forth +under the stress of extreme necessity. They lived now +by the grace of his will. This was power. Willems +loved it. + In another, and perhaps a lower plane, his days did +not want for their less complex but more obvious pleas- +ures. He liked the simple games of skill--billiards; +also games not so simple, and calling for quite another +kind of skill--poker. He had been the aptest pupil of +a steady-eyed, sententious American, who had drifted +mysteriously into Macassar from the wastes of the +Pacific, and, after knocking about for a time in the +eddies of town life, had drifted out enigmatically into +the sunny solitudes of the Indian Ocean. The memory +of the Californian stranger was perpetuated in the game +of poker--which became popular in the capital of Cele- +bes from that time--and in a powerful cocktail, the +recipe for which is transmitted--in the Kwang-tung +dialect--from head boy to head boy of the Chinese +servants in the Sunda Hotel even to this day. Willems +was a connoisseur in the drink and an adept at the game. +Of those accomplishments he was moderately proud. +Of the confidence reposed in him by Hudig--the master +--he was boastfully and obtrusively proud. This arose +from his great benevolence, and from an exalted sense +of his duty to himself and the world at large. He ex- +perienced that irresistible impulse to impart information + + +6 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +which is inseparable from gross ignorance. There is +always some one thing which the ignorant man knows, +and that thing is the only thing worth knowing; it +fills the ignorant man's universe. Willems knew all +about himself. On the day when, with many misgiv- +ings, he ran away from a Dutch East-Indiaman in +Samarang roads, he had commenced that study of +himself, of his own ways, of his own abilities, of those +fate-compelling qualities of his which led him toward +that lucrative position which he now filled. Being of a +modest and diffident nature, his successes amazed, +almost frightened him, and ended--as he got over the +succeeding shocks of surprise--by making him fero- +ciously conceited. He believed in his genius and in his +knowledge of the world. Others should know of it also; +for their own good and for his greater glory. All those +friendly men who slapped him on the back and greeted +him noisily should have the benefit of his example. For +that he must talk. He talked to them conscientiously. +In the afternoon he expounded his theory of success +over the little tables, dipping now and then his mous- +tache in the crushed ice of the cocktails; in the evening +he would often hold forth, cue in hand, to a young lis- +tener across the billiard table. The billiard balls stood +still as if listening also, under the vivid brilliance of the +shaded oil lamps hung low over the cloth; while away +in the shadows of the big room the Chinaman marker +would lean wearily against the wall, the blank mask of +his face looking pale under the mahogany marking- +board; his eyelids dropped in the drowsy fatigue of late +hours and in the buzzing monotony of the unintelligible +stream of words poured out by the white man. In a +sudden pause of the talk the game would recommence +with a sharp click and go on for a time in the flowing +soft whirr and the subdued thuds as the balls rolled + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 7 + +zig-zagging towards the inevitably successful cannon. +Through the big windows and the open doors the salt +dampness of the sea, the vague smell of mould and +flowers from the garden of the hotel drifted in and +mingled with the odour of lamp oil, growing heavier +as the night advanced. The players' heads dived into +the light as they bent down for the stroke, springing +back again smartly into the greenish gloom of broad +lamp-shades; the clock ticked methodically; the un- +moved Chinaman continuously repeated the score in a +lifeless voice, like a big talking doll--and Willems +would win the game. With a remark that it was getting +late, and that he was a married man, he would say a +patronizing good-night and step out into the long, +empty street. At that hour its white dust was like a +dazzling streak of moonlight where the eye sought repose +in the dimmer gleam of rare oil lamps. Willems +walked homewards, following the line of walls over- +topped by the luxuriant vegetation of the front gar- +dens. The houses right and left were hidden behind +the black masses of flowering shrubs. Willems had +the street to himself. He would walk in the middle, +his shadow gliding obsequiously before him. He looked +down on it complacently. The shadow of a successful +man! He would be slightly dizzy with the cocktails +and with the intoxication of his own glory. As he often +told people, he came east fourteen years ago--a cabin +boy. A small boy. His shadow must have been very +small at that time; he thought with a smile that he was +not aware then he had anything--even a shadow-- +which he dared call his own. And now he was looking +at the shadow of the confidential clerk of Hudig & Co. +going home. How glorious! How good was life for +those that were on the winning side! He had won the +game of life; also the game of billiards. He walked + + +8 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +faster, jingling his winnings, and thinking of the white +stone days that had marked the path of his existence. +He thought of the trip to Lombok for ponies--that +first important transaction confided to him by Hudig; +then he reviewed the more important affairs: the quiet +deal in opium; the illegal traffic in gunpowder; the great +affair of smuggled firearms, the difficult business of the +Rajah of Goak. He carried that last through by sheer +pluck; he had bearded the savage old ruler in his council +room; he had bribed him with a gilt glass coach, which, +rumour said, was used as a hen-coop now; he had over- +persuaded him; he had bested him in every way. That +was the way to get on. He disapproved of the elemen- +tary dishonesty that dips the hand in the cash-box, but +one could evade the laws and push the principles of +trade to their furthest consequences. Some call that +cheating. Those are the fools, the weak, the contemp- +tible. The wise, the strong, the respected, have no +scruples. Where there are scruples there can be no +power. On that text he preached often to the young +men. It was his doctrine, and he, himself, was a shining +example of its truth. + Night after night he went home thus, after a day of +toil and pleasure, drunk with the sound of his own voice +celebrating his own prosperity. On his thirtieth birth- +day he went home thus. He had spent in good com- +pany a nice, noisy evening, and, as he walked along the +empty street, the feeling of his own greatness grew upon +him, lifted him above the white dust of the road, and +filled him with exultation and regrets. He had not +done himself justice over there in the hotel, he had not +talked enough about himself, he had not impressed his +hearers enough. Never mind. Some other time. Now +he would go home and make his wife get up and listen +to him. Why should she not get up?--and mix a cock- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 9 + +tail for him--and listen patiently. Just so. She shall. +If he wanted he could make all the Da Souza family +get up. He had only to say a word and they would +all come and sit silently in their night vestments on +the hard, cold ground of his compound and listen, as +long as he wished to go on explaining to them from the +top of the stairs, how great and good he was. They +would. However, his wife would do--for to-night. + His wife! He winced inwardly. A dismal woman +with startled eyes and dolorously drooping mouth, that +would listen to him in pained wonder and mute stillness. +She was used to those night-discourses now. She had +rebelled once--at the beginning. Only once. Now, +while he sprawled in the long chair and drank and +talked, she would stand at the further end of the table, +her hands resting on the edge, her frightened eyes +watching his lips, without a sound, without a stir, hardly +breathing, till he dismissed her with a contemptuous: +"Go to bed, dummy." She would draw a long breath +then and trail out of the room, relieved but unmoved. +Nothing could startle her, make her scold or make her +cry. She did not complain, she did not rebel. That +first difference of theirs was decisive. Too decisive, +thought Willems, discontentedly. It had frightened +the soul out of her body apparently. A dismal woman! +A damn'd business altogether! What the devil did he +want to go and saddle himself. . . . Ah! Well! he +wanted a home, and the match seemed to please Hudig, +and Hudig gave him the bungalow, that flower-bowered +house to which he was wending his way in the cool +moonlight. And he had the worship of the Da Souza +tribe. A man of his stamp could carry off anything, +do anything, aspire to anything. In another five years +those white people who attended the Sunday card- +parties of the Governor would accept him--half-caste + + +10 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +wife and all! Hooray! He saw his shadow dart for- +ward and wave a hat, as big as a rum barrel, at the +end of an arm several yards long. . . . Who +shouted hooray? . . . He smiled shamefacedly to +himself, and, pushing his hands deep into his pockets, +walked faster with a suddenly grave face. + Behind him--to the left--a cigar end glowed in the +gateway of Mr. Vinck's front yard. Leaning against +one of the brick pillars, Mr. Vinck, the cashier of Hudig +& Co., smoked the last cheroot of the evening. Amongst +the shadows of the trimmed bushes Mrs. Vinck crunched +slowly, with measured steps, the gravel of the circular +path before the house. + "There's Willems going home on foot--and drunk I +fancy," said Mr. Vinck over his shoulder. "I saw him +jump and wave his hat." + The crunching of the gravel stopped. + "Horrid man," said Mrs. Vinck, calmly. "I have +heard he beats his wife." + "Oh no, my dear, no," muttered absently Mr. Vinck, +with a vague gesture. The aspect of Willems as a wife- +beater presented to him no interest. How women do +misjudge! If Willems wanted to torture his wife he +would have recourse to less primitive methods. Mr. +Vinck knew Willems well, and believed him to be very +able, very smart--objectionably so. As he took the +last quick draws at the stump of his cheroot, Mr. Vinck +reflected that the confidence accorded by Hudig to +Willems was open, under the circumstances, to loyal +criticism from Hudig's cashier. + "He is becoming dangerous; he knows too much. +He will have to be got rid of," said Mr. Vinck aloud. +But Mrs. Vinck had gone in already, and after shaking +his head he threw away his cheroot and followed her +slowly. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 11 + + Willems walked on homeward weaving the splendid +web of his future. The road to greatness lay plainly +before his eyes, straight and shining, without any obsta- +cle that he could see. He had stepped off the path of +honesty, as he understood it, but he would soon regain +it, never to leave it any more! It was a very small +matter. He would soon put it right again. Meantime +his duty was not to be found out, and he trusted in his +skill, in his luck, in his well-established reputation that +would disarm suspicion if anybody dared to suspect. +But nobody would dare! True, he was conscious of a +slight deterioration. He had appropriated temporarily +some of Hudig's money. A deplorable necessity. But +he judged himself with the indulgence that should be +extended to the weaknesses of genius. He would make +reparation and all would be as before; nobody would be +the loser for it, and he would go on unchecked toward +the brilliant goal of his ambition. + Hudig's partner! + Before going up the steps of his house he stood for +awhile, his feet well apart, chin in hand, contemplating +mentally Hudig's future partner. A glorious occupa- +tion. He saw him quite safe; solid as the hills; deep-- +deep as an abyss; discreet as the grave. + + + CHAPTER TWO + + THE sea, perhaps because of its saltness, roughens +the outside but keeps sweet the kernel of its servants' +soul. The old sea; the sea of many years ago, whose +servants were devoted slaves and went from youth to +age or to a sudden grave without needing to open the +book of life, because they could look at eternity re- +flected on the element that gave the life and dealt the +death. Like a beautiful and unscrupulous woman, the +sea of the past was glorious in its smiles, irresistible in +its anger, capricious, enticing, illogical, irresponsible; +a thing to love, a thing to fear. It cast a spell, it gave +joy, it lulled gently into boundless faith; then with +quick and causeless anger it killed. But its cruelty was +redeemed by the charm of its inscrutable mystery, by +the immensity of its promise, by the supreme witchery +of its possible favour. Strong men with childlike hearts +were faithful to it, were content to live by its grace-- +to die by its will. That was the sea before the time +when the French mind set the Egyptian muscle in +motion and produced a dismal but profitable ditch. +Then a great pall of smoke sent out by countless steam- +boats was spread over the restless mirror of the In- +finite. The hand of the engineer tore down the veil +of the terrible beauty in order that greedy and faithless +landlubbers might pocket dividends. The mystery +was destroyed. Like all mysteries, it lived only in +the hearts of its worshippers. The hearts changed; the +men changed. The once loving and devoted servants +went out armed with fire and iron, and conquering + +12 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 13 + +the fear of their own hearts became a calculating crowd +of cold and exacting masters. The sea of the past +was an incomparably beautiful mistress, with inscruta- +ble face, with cruel and promising eyes. The sea of +to-day is a used-up drudge, wrinkled and defaced by the +churned-up wakes of brutal propellers, robbed of the +enslaving charm of its vastness, stripped of its beauty, +of its mystery and of its promise. + Tom Lingard was a master, a lover, a servant of +the sea. The sea took him young, fashioned him body +and soul; gave him his fierce aspect, his loud voice, his +fearless eyes, his stupidly guileless heart. Generously +it gave him his absurd faith in himself, his universal +love of creation, his wide indulgence, his contemptuous +severity, his straightforward simplicity of motive and +honesty of aim. Having made him what he was, +womanlike, the sea served him humbly and let him +bask unharmed in the sunshine of its terribly uncertain +favour. Tom Lingard grew rich on the sea and by the +sea. He loved it with the ardent affection of a lover, +he made light of it with the assurance of perfect mas- +tery, he feared it with the wise fear of a brave man, and +he took liberties with it as a spoiled child might do with +a paternal and good-natured ogre. He was grateful +to it, with the gratitude of an honest heart. His great- +est pride lay in his profound conviction of its faithful- +ness--in the deep sense of his unerring knowledge of its +treachery. + The little brig <i>Flash</i> was the instrument of Lingard's +fortune. They came north together--both young-- +out of an Australian port, and after a very few years +there was not a white man in the islands, from Palem- +bang to Ternate, from Ombawa to Palawan, that did +not know Captain Tom and his lucky craft. He was +liked for his reckless generosity, for his unswerving + + +14 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +honesty, and at first was a little feared on account of +his violent temper. Very soon, however, they found +him out, and the word went round that Captain Tom's +fury was less dangerous than many a man's smile. He +prospered greatly. After his first--and successful-- +fight with the sea robbers, when he rescued, as rumour +had it, the yacht of some big wig from home, somewhere +down Carimata way, his great popularity began. As +years went on it grew apace. Always visiting out-of- +the-way places of that part of the world, always in +search of new markets for his cargoes--not so much +for profit as for the pleasure of finding them--he soon +became known to the Malays, and by his successful +recklessness in several encounters with pirates, estab- +lished the terror of his name. Those white men with +whom he had business, and who naturally were on the +look-out for his weaknesses, could easily see that it was +enough to give him his Malay title to flatter him greatly. +So when there was anything to be gained by it, and +sometimes out of pure and unprofitable good nature, +they would drop the ceremonious "Captain Lingard" +and address him half seriously as Rajah Laut--the +King of the Sea. + He carried the name bravely on his broad shoulders. +He had carried it many years already when the boy +Willems ran barefooted on the deck of the ship <i>Kos- +mopoliet IV.</i> in Samarang roads, looking with innocent +eyes on the strange shore and objurgating his immediate +surroundings with blasphemous lips, while his childish +brain worked upon the heroic idea of running away. +From the poop of the <i>Flash</i> Lingard saw in the early +morning the Dutch ship get lumberingly under weigh, +bound for the eastern ports. Very late in the evening +of the same day he stood on the quay of the landing +canal, ready to go on board of his brig. The night + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 15 + +was starry and clear; the little custom-house building +was shut up, and as the gharry that brought him down +disappeared up the long avenue of dusty trees leading +to the town, Lingard thought himself alone on the quay. +He roused up his sleeping boat-crew and stood waiting +for them to get ready, when he felt a tug at his coat and +a thin voice said, very distinctly-- + "English captain." + Lingard turned round quickly, and what seemed to be +a very lean boy jumped back with commendable +activity. + "Who are you? Where do you spring from?" asked +Lingard, in startled surprise. + From a safe distance the boy pointed toward a cargo +lighter moored to the quay. + "Been hiding there, have you?" said Lingard. +"Well, what do you want? Speak out, confound you +You did not come here to scare me to death, for fun, +did you?" + The boy tried to explain in imperfect English, but +very soon Lingard interrupted him. + "I see," he exclaimed, "you ran away from the +big ship that sailed this morning. Well, why don't +you go to your countrymen here?" + "Ship gone only a little way--to Sourabaya. Make +me go back to the ship," explained the boy. + "Best thing for you," affirmed Lingard with con- +viction. + "No," retorted the boy; "me want stop here; not +want go home. Get money here; home no good." + "This beats all my going a-fishing," commented the +astonished Lingard. "It's money you want? Well! +well! And you were not afraid to run away, you bag +of bones, you!" + The boy intimated that he was frightened of nothing + + +16 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +but of being sent back to the ship. Lingard looked +at him in meditative silence. + "Come closer," he said at last. He took the boy +by the chin, and turning up his face gave him a search- +ing look. "How old are you?" + "Seventeen." + "There's not much of you for seventeen. Are you +hungry?" + "A little." + "Will you come with me, in that brig there?" + The boy moved without a word towards the boat and +scrambled into the bows. + "Knows his place," muttered Lingard to himself as +he stepped heavily into the stern sheets and took up +the yoke lines. "Give way there." + The Malay boat crew lay back together, and the gig +sprang away from the quay heading towards the brig's +riding light. + Such was the beginning of Willems' career. + Lingard learned in half an hour all that there was +of Willems' commonplace story. Father outdoor clerk +of some ship-broker in Rotterdam; mother dead. The +boy quick in learning, but idle in school. The strait- +ened circumstances in the house filled with small +brothers and sisters, sufficiently clothed and fed but +otherwise running wild, while the disconsolate widower +tramped about all day in a shabby overcoat and im- +perfect boots on the muddy quays, and in the evening +piloted wearily the half-intoxicated foreign skippers +amongst the places of cheap delights, returning home +late, sick with too much smoking and drinking--for +company's sake--with these men, who expected such +attentions in the way of business. Then the offer of +the good-natured captain of <i>Kosmopoliet IV.</i>, who was +pleased to do something for the patient and obliging + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 17 + +fellow; young Willems' great joy, his still greater dis- +appointment with the sea that looked so charming from +afar, but proved so hard and exacting on closer acquaint- +ance--and then this running away by a sudden im- +pulse. The boy was hopelessly at variance with the +spirit of the sea. He had an instinctive contempt for +the honest simplicity of that work which led to nothing +he cared for. Lingard soon found this out. He offered +to send him home in an English ship, but the boy begged +hard to be permitted to remain. He wrote a beautiful +hand, became soon perfect in English, was quick at +figures; and Lingard made him useful in that way. +As he grew older his trading instincts developed them- +selves astonishingly, and Lingard left him often to +trade in one island or another while he, himself, made +an intermediate trip to some out-of-the-way place. +On Willems expressing a wish to that effect, Lingard +let him enter Hudig's service. He felt a little sore at +that abandonment because he had attached himself, +in a way, to his protege. Still he was proud of him, +and spoke up for him loyally. At first it was, "Smart +boy that--never make a seaman though." Then when +Willems was helping in the trading he referred to him +as "that clever young fellow." Later when Willems +became the confidential agent of Hudig, employed in +many a delicate affair, the simple-hearted old seaman +would point an admiring finger at his back and whisper +to whoever stood near at the moment, "Long-headed +chap that; deuced long-headed chap. Look at him. +Confidential man of old Hudig. I picked him up in a +ditch, you may say, like a starved cat. Skin and bone. +'Pon my word I did. And now he knows more than I +do about island trading. Fact. I am not joking. +More than I do," he would repeat, seriously, with inno- +cent pride in his honest eyes. + + +18 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + From the safe elevation of his commercial successes +Willems patronized Lingard. He had a liking for his +benefactor, not unmixed with some disdain for the crude +directness of the old fellow's methods of conduct. There +were, however, certain sides of Lingard's character for +which Willems felt a qualified respect. The talkative +seaman knew how to be silent on certain matters that +to Willems were very interesting. Besides, Lingard +was rich, and that in itself was enough to compel Wil- +lems' unwilling admiration. In his confidential chats +with Hudig, Willems generally alluded to the benevolent +Englishman as the "lucky old fool" in a very distinct +tone of vexation; Hudig would grunt an unqualified +assent, and then the two would look at each other in a +sudden immobility of pupils fixed by a stare of un- +expressed thought. + "You can't find out where he gets all that india- +rubber, hey Willems?" Hudig would ask at last, turn- +ing away and bending over the papers on his desk. + "No, Mr. Hudig. Not yet. But I am trying," +was Willems' invariable reply, delivered with a ring of +regretful deprecation. + "Try! Always try! You may try! You think your- +self clever perhaps," rumbled on Hudig, without looking +up. "I have been trading with him twenty--thirty +years now. The old fox. And I have tried. Bah!" + He stretched out a short, podgy leg and contemplated +the bare instep and the grass slipper hanging by the +toes. "You can't make him drunk?" he would add, +after a pause of stertorous breathing. + "No, Mr. Hudig, I can't really," protested Willems, +earnestly. + "Well, don't try. I know him. Don't try," ad- +vised the master, and, bending again over his desk, his +staring bloodshot eyes close to the paper, he would go + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 19 + +on tracing laboriously with his thick fingers the slim +unsteady letters of his correspondence, while Willems +waited respectfully for his further good pleasure before +asking, with great deference-- + "Any orders, Mr. Hudig?" + "Hm! yes. Go to Bun-Hin yourself and see the +dollars of that payment counted and packed, and have +them put on board the mail-boat for Ternate. She's +due here this afternoon." + "Yes, Mr. Hudig." + "And, look here. If the boat is late, leave the case +in Bun-Hin's godown till to-morrow. Seal it up. Eight +seals as usual. Don't take it away till the boat is here." + "No, Mr. Hudig." + "And don't forget about these opium cases. It's +for to-night. Use my own boatmen. Transship them +from the <i>Caroline</I> to the Arab barque," went on the +master in his hoarse undertone. "And don't you +come to me with another story of a case dropped over- +board like last time," he added, with sudden ferocity, +looking up at his confidential clerk. + "No, Mr. Hudig. I will take care." + "That's all. Tell that pig as you go out that if he +doesn't make the punkah go a little better I will break +every bone in his body," finished up Hudig, wiping his +purple face with a red silk handkerchief nearly as big +as a counterpane. + Noiselessly Willems went out, shutting carefully be- +hind him the little green door through which he passed to +the warehouse. Hudig, pen in hand, listened to him +bullying the punkah boy with profane violence, born of +unbounded zeal for the master's comfort, before he +returned to his writing amid the rustling of papers +fluttering in the wind sent down by the punkah that +waved in wide sweeps above his head. + + +20 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + Willems would nod familiarly to Mr. Vinck, who had +his desk close to the little door of the private office, and +march down the warehouse with an important air. +Mr. Vinck--extreme dislike lurking in every wrinkle +of his gentlemanly countenance--would follow with his +eyes the white figure flitting in the gloom amongst +the piles of bales and cases till it passed out through the +big archway into the glare of the street. + + + + CHAPTER THREE + + THE opportunity and the temptation were too much +for Willems, and under the pressure of sudden necessity +he abused that trust which was his pride, the perpetual +sign of his cleverness and a load too heavy for him to +carry. A run of bad luck at cards, the failure of a small +speculation undertaken on his own account, an unex- +pected demand for money from one or another member +of the Da Souza family--and almost before he was well +aware of it he was off the path of his peculiar honesty. +It was such a faint and ill-defined track that it took him +some time to find out how far he had strayed amongst +the brambles of the dangerous wilderness he had been +skirting for so many years, without any other guide than +his own convenience and that doctrine of success which +he had found for himself in the book of life--in those +interesting chapters that the Devil has been permitted +to write in it, to test the sharpness of men's eyesight +and the steadfastness of their hearts. For one short, +dark and solitary moment he was dismayed, but he had +that courage that will not scale heights, yet will wade +bravely through the mud--if there be no other road. +He applied himself to the task of restitution, and de- +voted himself to the duty of not being found out. On +his thirtieth birthday he had almost accomplished the +task--and the duty had been faithfully and cleverly +performed. He saw himself safe. Again he could look +hopefully towards the goal of his legitimate ambition. +Nobody would dare to suspect him, and in a few days +there would be nothing to suspect. He was elated. + +21 + + +22 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +He did not know that his prosperity had touched then +its high-water mark, and that the tide was already on +the turn. + Two days afterwards he knew. Mr. Vinck, hearing +the rattle of the door-handle, jumped up from his desk-- +where he had been tremulously listening to the loud +voices in the private office--and buried his face in the +big safe with nervous haste. For the last time Willems +passed through the little green door leading to Hudig's +sanctum, which, during the past half-hour, might have +been taken--from the fiendish noise within--for the +cavern of some wild beast. Willems' troubled eyes took +in the quick impression of men and things as he came +out from the place of his humiliation. He saw the +scared expression of the punkah boy; the Chinamen +tellers sitting on their heels with unmovable faces +turned up blankly towards him while their arrested +hands hovered over the little piles of bright guilders +ranged on the floor; Mr. Vinck's shoulder-blades with +the fleshy rims of two red ears above. He saw the long +avenue of gin cases stretching from where he stood to the +arched doorway beyond which he would be able to +breathe perhaps. A thin rope's end lay across his path +and he saw it distinctly, yet stumbled heavily over it +as if it had been a bar of iron. Then he found himself +in the street at last, but could not find air enough to +fill his lungs. He walked towards his home, gasping. + As the sound of Hudig's insults that lingered in his +ears grew fainter by the lapse of time, the feeling of +shame was replaced slowly by a passion of anger against +himself and still more against the stupid concourse of +circumstances that had driven him into his idiotic in- +discretion. Idiotic indiscretion; that is how he defined +his guilt to himself. Could there be anything worse +from the point of view of his undeniable cleverness? + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 23 + +What a fatal aberration of an acute mind! He did not +recognize himself there. He must have been mad. +That's it. A sudden gust of madness. And now the +work of long years was destroyed utterly. What would +become of him? + Before he could answer that question he found him- +self in the garden before his house, Hudig's wedding +gift. He looked at it with a vague surprise to find it +there. His past was so utterly gone from him that the +dwelling which belonged to it appeared to him in- +congruous standing there intact, neat, and cheerful +in the sunshine of the hot afternoon. The house was a +pretty little structure all doors and windows, surrounded +on all sides by the deep verandah supported on slender +columns clothed in the green foliage of creepers, which +also fringed the overhanging eaves of the high-pitched +roof. Slowly, Willems mounted the dozen steps that +led to the verandah. He paused at every step. He +must tell his wife. He felt frightened at the prospect, +and his alarm dismayed him. Frightened to face her! +Nothing could give him a better measure of the great- +ness of the change around him, and in him. Another +man--and another life with the faith in himself gone. +He could not be worth much if he was afraid to face +that woman. + He dared not enter the house through the open door +of the dining-room, but stood irresolute by the little +work-table where trailed a white piece of calico, with +a needle stuck in it, as if the work had been left hur- +riedly. The pink-crested cockatoo started, on his +appearance, into clumsy activity and began to climb +laboriously up and down his perch, calling "Joanna" +with indistinct loudness and a persistent screech that +prolonged the last syllable of the name as if in a peal +of insane laughter. The screen in the doorway moved + + +24 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +gently once or twice in the breeze, and each time Wil- +lems started slightly, expecting his wife, but he never +lifted his eyes, although straining his ears for the sound +of her footsteps. Gradually he lost himself in his +thoughts, in the endless speculation as to the manner +in which she would receive his news--and his orders. +In this preoccupation he almost forgot the fear of her +presence. No doubt she will cry, she will lament, she +will be helpless and frightened and passive as ever. +And he would have to drag that limp weight on and on +through the darkness of a spoiled life. Horrible! +Of course he could not abandon her and the child to +certain misery or possible starvation. The wife and +the child of Willems. Willems the successful, the +smart; Willems the conf . . . . Pah! And what +was Willems now? Willems the. . . . He strangled +the half-born thought, and cleared his throat to stifle a +groan. Ah! Won't they talk to-night in the billiard- +room--his world, where he had been first--all those +men to whom he had been so superciliously condescend- +ing. Won't they talk with surprise, and affected regret, +and grave faces, and wise nods. Some of them owed +him money, but he never pressed anybody. Not he. +Willems, the prince of good fellows, they called him. +And now they will rejoice, no doubt, at his downfall. +A crowd of imbeciles. In his abasement he was yet +aware of his superiority over those fellows, who were +merely honest or simply not found out yet. A crowd +of imbeciles! He shook his fist at the evoked image of +his friends, and the startled parrot fluttered its wings +and shrieked in desperate fright. + In a short glance upwards Willems saw his wife come +round the corner of the house. He lowered his eyelids +quickly, and waited silently till she came near and stood +on the other side of the little table. He would not look + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 25 + +at her face, but he could see the red dressing-gown he +knew so well. She trailed through life in that red +dressing-gown, with its row of dirty blue bows down +the front, stained, and hooked on awry; a torn flounce +at the bottom following her like a snake as she moved +languidly about, with her hair negligently caught up, +and a tangled wisp straggling untidily down her back. +His gaze travelled upwards from bow to bow, noticing +those that hung only by a thread, but it did not go be- +yond her chin. He looked at her lean throat, at the +obtrusive collarbone visible in the disarray of the upper +part of her attire. He saw the thin arm and the bony +hand clasping the child she carried, and he felt an im- +mense distaste for those encumbrances of his life. He +waited for her to say something, but as he felt her eyes +rest on him in unbroken silence he sighed and began to +speak. + It was a hard task. He spoke slowly, lingering +amongst the memories of this early life in his reluctance +to confess that this was the end of it and the beginning +of a less splendid existence. In his conviction of having +made her happiness in the full satisfaction of all material +wants he never doubted for a moment that she was +ready to keep him company on no matter how hard +and stony a road. He was not elated by this certitude. +He had married her to please Hudig, and the greatness +of his sacrifice ought to have made her happy without +any further exertion on his part. She had years of +glory as Willems' wife, and years of comfort, of loyal +care, and of such tenderness as she deserved. He had +guarded her carefully from any bodily hurt; and of any +other suffering he had no conception. The assertion of +his superiority was only another benefit conferred on +her. All this was a matter of course, but he told her all +this so as to bring vividly before her the greatness of her + + +26 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +loss. She was so dull of understanding that she would +not grasp it else. And now it was at an end. They +would have to go. Leave this house, leave this island, +go far away where he was unknown. To the English +Strait-Settlements perhaps. He would find an opening +there for his abilities--and juster men to deal with than +old Hudig. He laughed bitterly. + "You have the money I left at home this morning, +Joanna?" he asked. "We will want it all now." + As he spoke those words he thought he was a fine +fellow. Nothing new that. Still, he surpassed there +his own expectations. Hang it all, there are sacred +things in life, after all. The marriage tie was one of +them, and he was not the man to break it. The solidity +of his principles caused him great satisfaction, but he +did not care to look at his wife, for all that. He waited +for her to speak. Then he would have to console her; +tell her not to be a crying fool; to get ready to go. Go +where? How? When? He shook his head. They +must leave at once; that was the principal thing. He +felt a sudden need to hurry up his departure. + "Well, Joanna," he said, a little impatiently--- +"don't stand there in a trance. Do you hear? We +must. . . ." + He looked up at his wife, and whatever he was going +to add remained unspoken. She was staring at him +with her big, slanting eyes, that seemed to him twice +their natural size. The child, its dirty little face pressed +to its mother's shoulder, was sleeping peacefully. The +deep silence of the house was not broken, but rather +accentuated, by the low mutter of the cockatoo, now +very still on its perch. As Willems was looking at +Joanna her upper lip was drawn up on one side, giving +to her melancholy face a vicious expression altogether +new to his experience. He stepped back in his surprise. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 27 + + "Oh! You great man!" she said distinctly, but in +a voice that was hardly above a whisper. + Those words, and still more her tone, stunned him +as if somebody had fired a gun close to his ear. He +stared back at her stupidly. + "Oh! you great man!" she repeated slowly, glancing +right and left as if meditating a sudden escape. "And +you think that I am going to starve with you. You +are nobody now. You think my mamma and Leonard +would let me go away? And with you! With you," +she repeated scornfully, raising her voice, which woke +up the child and caused it to whimper feebly. + "Joanna!" exclaimed Willems. + "Do not speak to me. I have heard what I have +waited for all these years. You are less than dirt, you +that have wiped your feet on me. I have waited +for this. I am not afraid now. I do not want you; +do not come near me. Ah-h!" she screamed shrilly, +as he held out his hand in an entreating gesture-- +"Ah! Keep off me! Keep off me! Keep off!" + She backed away, looking at him with eyes both +angry and frightened. Willems stared motionless, in +dumb amazement at the mystery of anger and revolt in +the head of his wife. Why? What had he ever done to +her? This was the day of injustice indeed. First Hudig +--and now his wife. He felt a terror at this hate +that had lived stealthily so near him for years. He +tried to speak, but she shrieked again, and it was like +a needle through his heart. Again he raised his hand. + "Help!" called Mrs. Willems, in a piercing voice. +"Help!" + "Be quiet! You fool!" shouted Willems, trying to +drown the noise of his wife and child in his own angry +accents and rattling violently the little zinc table in his +exasperation. + + +28 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + From under the house, where there were bathrooms +and a tool closet, appeared Leonard, a rusty iron bar in +his hand. He called threateningly from the bottom of +the stairs. + "Do not hurt her, Mr. Willems. You are a savage. +Not at all like we, whites." + "You too!" said the bewildered Willems. "I haven't +touched her. Is this a madhouse?" He moved +towards the stairs, and Leonard dropped the bar with +a clang and made for the gate of the compound. Wil- +lems turned back to his wife. + "So you expected this," he said. "It is a conspiracy. +Who's that sobbing and groaning in the room? Some +more of your precious family. Hey?" + She was more calm now, and putting hastily the +crying child in the big chair walked towards him with +sudden fearlessness. + "My mother," she said, "my mother who came to +defend me from you--man from nowhere; a vaga- +bond!" + "You did not call me a vagabond when you hung +round my neck--before we were married," said Wil- +lems, contemptuously. + "You took good care that I should not hang round +your neck after we were," she answered, clenching her +hands, and putting her face close to his. "You boasted +while I suffered and said nothing. What has become +of your greatness; of our greatness--you were always +speaking about? Now I am going to live on the charity +of your master. Yes. That is true. He sent Leonard +to tell me so. And you will go and boast somewhere +else, and starve. So! Ah! I can breathe now! This +house is mine." + "Enough!" said Willems, slowly, with an arresting +gesture. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 29 + + She leaped back, the fright again in her eyes, snatched +up the child, pressed it to her breast, and, falling into a +chair, drummed insanely with her heels on the re- +sounding floor of the verandah. + "I shall go," said Willems, steadily. "I thank you. +For the first time in your life you make me happy. +You were a stone round my neck; you understand. +I did not mean to tell you that as long as you lived, +but you made me--now. Before I pass this gate you +shall be gone from my mind. You made it very easy. +I thank you." + He turned and went down the steps without giving +her a glance, while she sat upright and quiet, with +wide-open eyes, the child crying querulously in her +arms. At the gate he came suddenly upon Leonard, +who had been dodging about there and failed to get +out of the way in time. + "Do not be brutal, Mr. Willems," said Leonard, +hurriedly. "It is unbecoming between white men +with all those natives looking on." Leonard's legs +trembled very much, and his voice wavered between +high and low tones without any attempt at control on +his part. "Restrain your improper violence," he +went on mumbling rapidly. "I am a respectable man +of very good family, while you . . . it is regret- +table . . . they all say so . . ." + "What?" thundered Willems. He felt a sudden +impulse of mad anger, and before he knew what had +happened he was looking at Leonard da Souza rolling +in the dust at his feet. He stepped over his prostrate +brother-in-law and tore blindly down the street, every- +body making way for the frantic white man. + When he came to himself he was beyond the out- +skirts of the town, stumbling on the hard and cracked +earth of reaped rice fields. How did he get there? + + +30 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +It was dark. He must get back. As he walked towards +the town slowly, his mind reviewed the events of the +day and he felt a sense of bitter loneliness. His wife +had turned him out of his own house. He had as- +saulted brutally his brother-in-law, a member of the +Da Souza family--of that band of his worshippers. +He did. Well, no! It was some other man. Another +man was coming back. A man without a past, with- +out a future, yet full of pain and shame and anger. He +stopped and looked round. A dog or two glided across +the empty street and rushed past him with a fright- +ened snarl. He was now in the midst of the Malay +quarter whose bamboo houses, hidden in the verdure +of their little gardens, were dark and silent. Men, +women and children slept in there. Human beings. +Would he ever sleep, and where? He felt as if he was +the outcast of all mankind, and as he looked hopelessly +round, before resuming his weary march, it seemed to +him that the world was bigger, the night more vast and +more black; but he went on doggedly with his head down +as if pushing his way through some thick brambles. +Then suddenly he felt planks under his feet and, look- +ing up, saw the red light at the end of the jetty. He +walked quite to the end and stood leaning against the +post, under the lamp, looking at the roadstead where +two vessels at anchor swayed their slender rigging +amongst the stars. The end of the jetty; and here in +one step more the end of life; the end of everything. +Better so. What else could he do? Nothing ever comes +back. He saw it clearly. The respect and admiration +of them all, the old habits and old affections finished +abruptly in the clear perception of the cause of his dis- +grace. He saw all this; and for a time he came out of +himself, out of his selfishness--out of the constant +preoccupation of his interests and his desires--out of + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 31 + +the temple of self and the concentration of personal +thought. + His thoughts now wandered home. Standing in +the tepid stillness of a starry tropical night he felt the +breath of the bitter east wind, he saw the high and +narrow fronts of tall houses under the gloom of a +clouded sky; and on muddy quays he saw the shabby, +high-shouldered figure--the patient, faded face of the +weary man earning bread for the children that waited +for him in a dingy home. It was miserable, miserable. +But it would never come back. What was there in +common between those things and Willems the clever, +Willems the successful. He had cut himself adrift +from that home many years ago. Better for him +then. Better for them now. All this was gone, +never to come back again; and suddenly he shivered, +seeing himself alone in the presence of unknown and +terrible dangers. + For the first time in his life he felt afraid of the +future, because he had lost his faith, the faith in his +own success. And he had destroyed it foolishly with +his own hands! + + + + CHAPTER FOUR + + HIS meditation which resembled slow drifting into +suicide was interrupted by Lingard, who, with a loud +"I've got you at last!" dropped his hand heavily on +Willems' shoulder. This time it was the old seaman +himself going out of his way to pick up the uninter- +esting waif--all that there was left of that sudden +and sordid shipwreck. To Willems, the rough, friendly +voice was a quick and fleeting relief followed by a +sharper pang of anger and unavailing regret. That +voice carried him back to the beginning of his promising +career, the end of which was very visible now from the +jetty where they both stood. He shook himself free +from the friendly grasp, saying with ready bitterness-- + "It's all your fault. Give me a push now, do, and +send me over. I have been standing here waiting for +help. You are the man--of all men. You helped +at the beginning; you ought to have a hand in the end." + "I have better use for you than to throw you to +the fishes," said Lingard, seriously, taking Willems +by the arm and forcing him gently to walk up the +jetty. "I have been buzzing over this town like a +bluebottle fly, looking for you high and low. I have +heard a lot. I will tell you what, Willems; you are +no saint, that's a fact. And you have not been over- +wise either. I am not throwing stones," he added, +hastily, as Willems made an effort to get away, "but +I am not going to mince matters. Never could! You +keep quiet while I talk. Can't you?" + With a gesture of resignation and a half-stifled groan + +32 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 33 + +Willems submitted to the stronger will, and the two +men paced slowly up and down the resounding planks, +while Lingard disclosed to Willems the exact manner +of his undoing. After the first shock Willems lost the +faculty of surprise in the over-powering feeling of +indignation. So it was Vinck and Leonard who had +served him so. They had watched him, tracked his +misdeeds, reported them to Hudig. They had bribed +obscure Chinamen, wormed out confidences from tipsy +skippers, got at various boatmen, and had pieced out +in that way the story of his irregularities. The black- +ness of this dark intrigue filled him with horror. He +could understand Vinck. There was no love lost be- +tween them. But Leonard! Leonard! + "Why, Captain Lingard," he burst out, "the fellow +licked my boots." + "Yes, yes, yes," said Lingard, testily, "we know +that, and you did your best to cram your boot down +his throat. No man likes that, my boy." + "I was always giving money to all that hungry lot," +went on Willems, passionately. "Always my hand in +my pocket. They never had to ask twice." + "Just so. Your generosity frightened them. They +asked themselves where all that came from, and con- +cluded that it was safer to throw you overboard. After +all, Hudig is a much greater man than you, my friend, +and they have a claim on him also." + "What do you mean, Captain Lingard?" + "What do I mean?" repeated Lingard, slowly. +"Why, you are not going to make me believe you did not +know your wife was Hudig's daughter. Come now!" + Willems stopped suddenly and swayed about. + "Ah! I understand," he gasped. "I never heard +. . . Lately I thought there was . . . But no, +I never guessed." + + +34 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Oh, you simpleton!" said Lingard, pityingly. +"'Pon my word," he muttered to himself, "I don't +believe the fellow knew. Well! well! Steady now. +Pull yourself together. What's wrong there. She is +a good wife to you." + "Excellent wife," said Willems, in a dreary voice, +looking far over the black and scintillating water. + "Very well then," went on Lingard, with increasing +friendliness. "Nothing wrong there. But did you +really think that Hudig was marrying you off and giving +you a house and I don't know what, out of love for +you?" + "I had served him well," answered Willems. "How +well, you know yourself--through thick and thin. No +matter what work and what risk, I was always there; +always ready." + How well he saw the greatness of his work and +the immensity of that injustice which was his reward. +She was that man's daughter! In the light of this +disclosure the facts of the last five years of his life +stood clearly revealed in their full meaning. He had +spoken first to Joanna at the gate of their dwelling as +he went to his work in the brilliant flush of the early +morning, when women and flowers are charming even +to the dullest eyes. A most respectable family--two +women and a young man--were his next-door neigh- +bours. Nobody ever came to their little house but the +priest, a native from the Spanish islands, now and then. +The young man Leonard he had met in town, and was +flattered by the little fellow's immense respect for the +great Willems. He let him bring chairs, call the waiters, +chalk his cues when playing billiards, express his +admiration in choice words. He even condescended +to listen patiently to Leonard's allusions to "our +beloved father," a man of official position, a govern- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 35 + +ment agent in Koti, where he died of cholera, alas! +a victim to duty, like a good Catholic, and a good +man. It sounded very respectable, and Willems +approved of those feeling references. Moreover, he +prided himself upon having no colour-prejudices and +no racial antipathies. He consented to drink curacoa +one afternoon on the verandah of Mrs. da Souza's +house. He remembered Joanna that day, swinging +in a hammock. She was untidy even then, he remem- +bered, and that was the only impression he carried +away from that visit. He had no time for love in those +glorious days, no time even for a passing fancy, but +gradually he fell into the habit of calling almost every +day at that little house where he was greeted by Mrs. +da Souza's shrill voice screaming for Joanna to come +and entertain the gentleman from Hudig & Co. And +then the sudden and unexpected visit of the priest. He +remembered the man's flat, yellow face, his thin legs, +his propitiatory smile, his beaming black eyes, his con- +ciliating manner, his veiled hints which he did not under- +stand at the time. How he wondered what the man +wanted, and how unceremoniously he got rid of him. +And then came vividly into his recollection the morning +when he met again that fellow coming out of Hudig's +office, and how he was amused at the incongruous visit. +And that morning with Hudig! Would he ever forget +it? Would he ever forget his surprise as the master, +instead of plunging at once into business, looked at him +thoughtfully before turning, with a furtive smile, to +the papers on the desk? He could hear him now, his +nose in the paper before him, dropping astonishing words +in the intervals of wheezy breathing. + "Heard said . . . called there often . . . +most respectable ladies . . . knew the father very +well . . . estimable . . . best thing for a + + +36 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +young man . . . settle down. . . . Person- +ally, very glad to hear . . . thing arranged. . . +. Suitable recognition of valuable services. . . . +Best thing--best thing to do." + And he believed! What credulity! What an ass! +Hudig knew the father! Rather. And so did every- +body else probably; all except himself. How proud +he had been of Hudig's benevolent interest in his fate! +How proud he was when invited by Hudig to stay with +him at his little house in the country--where he could +meet men, men of official position--as a friend. Vinck +had been green with envy. Oh, yes! He had believed +in the best thing, and took the girl like a gift of fortune. +How he boasted to Hudig of being free from prejudices. +The old scoundrel must have been laughing in his sleeve +at his fool of a confidential clerk. He took the girl, +guessing nothing. How could he? There had been a +father of some kind to the common knowledge. Men +knew him; spoke about him. A lank man of hopelessly +mixed descent, but otherwise--apparently--unobjec- +tionable. The shady relations came out afterward, +but--with his freedom from prejudices--he did not mind +them, because, with their humble dependence, they +completed his triumphant life. Taken in! taken in! +Hudig had found an easy way to provide for the begging +crowd. He had shifted the burden of his youthful +vagaries on to the shoulders of his confidential clerk; +and while he worked for the master, the master had +cheated him; had stolen his very self from him. He +was married. He belonged to that woman, no matter +what she might do! . . . Had sworn . . . for +all life! . . . Thrown himself away. . . . And +that man dared this very morning call him a thief! +Damnation! + "Let go, Lingard!" he shouted, trying to get away + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 37 + +by a sudden jerk from the watchful old seaman. "Let +me go and kill that . . ." + "No you don't!" panted Lingard, hanging on man- +fully. "You want to kill, do you? You lunatic. +Ah!--I've got you now! Be quiet, I say!" + They struggled violently, Lingard forcing Willems +slowly towards the guard-rail. Under their feet the +jetty sounded like a drum in the quiet night. On the +shore end the native caretaker of the wharf watched +the combat, squatting behind the safe shelter of some +big cases. The next day he informed his friends, with +calm satisfaction, that two drunken white men had +fought on the jetty. It had been a great fight. They +fought without arms, like wild beasts, after the manner +of white men. No! nobody was killed, or there would +have been trouble and a report to make. How could +he know why they fought? White men have no reason +when they are like that. + Just as Lingard was beginning to fear that he would +be unable to restrain much longer the violence of the +younger man, he felt Willems' muscles relaxing, and +took advantage of this opportunity to pin him, by a +last effort, to the rail. They both panted heavily, +speechless, their faces very close. + "All right," muttered Willems at last. "Don't +break my back over this infernal rail. I will be quiet." + "Now you are reasonable," said Lingard, much +relieved. "What made you fly into that passion?" +he asked, leading him back to the end of the jetty, and, +still holding him prudently with one hand, he fumbled +with the other for his whistle and blew a shrill and pro- +longed blast. Over the smooth water of the roadstead +came in answer a faint cry from one of the ships at +anchor. + "My boat will be here directly," said Lingard. + + +38 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +"Think of what you are going to do. I sail to-night." + "What is there for me to do, except one thing?" +said Willems, gloomily. + "Look here," said Lingard; "I picked you up as a +boy, and consider myself responsible for you in a way. +You took your life into your own hands many years ago +--but still . . ." + He paused, listening, till he heard the regular grind +of the oars in the rowlocks of the approaching boat +then went on again. + "I have made it all right with Hudig. You owe +him nothing now. Go back to your wife. She is a +good woman. Go back to her." + "Why, Captain Lingard," exclaimed Willems, +she . . ." + "It was most affecting," went on Lingard, without +heeding him. "I went to your house to look for you +and there I saw her despair. It was heart-breaking. +She called for you; she entreated me to find you. She +spoke wildly, poor woman, as if all this was her fault." + Willems listened amazed. The blind old idiot! +How queerly he misunderstood! But if it was true, +if it was even true, the very idea of seeing her filled +his soul with intense loathing. He did not break +his oath, but he would not go back to her. Let hers +be the sin of that separation; of the sacred bond broken. +He revelled in the extreme purity of his heart, and he +would not go back to her. Let her come back to him. +He had the comfortable conviction that he would never +see her again, and that through her own fault only. +In this conviction he told himself solemnly that if she +would come to him he would receive her with generous +forgiveness, because such was the praiseworthy solidity +of his principles. But he hesitated whether he would or +would not disclose to Lingard the revolting complete- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 39 + +ness of his humiliation. Turned out of his house-- +and by his wife; that woman who hardly dared to +breathe in his presence, yesterday. He remained per- +plexed and silent. No. He lacked the courage to tell +the ignoble story. + As the boat of the brig appeared suddenly on the +black water close to the jetty, Lingard broke the painful +silence. + "I always thought," he said, sadly, "I always thought +you were somewhat heartless, Willems, and apt to cast +adrift those that thought most of you. I appeal to +what is best in you; do not abandon that woman." + "I have not abandoned her," answered Willems, +quickly, with conscious truthfulness. "Why should I? +As you so justly observed, she has been a good wife to +me. A very good, quiet, obedient, loving wife, and +I love her as much as she loves me. Every bit. But +as to going back now, to that place where I . . . +To walk again amongst those men who yesterday were +ready to crawl before me, and then feel on my back the +sting of their pitying or satisfied smiles--no! I can't. +I would rather hide from them at the bottom of the +sea," he went on, with resolute energy. "I don't +think, Captain Lingard," he added, more quietly, "I +don't think that you realize what my position was +there." + In a wide sweep of his hand he took in the sleeping +shore from north to south, as if wishing it a proud and +threatening good-bye. For a short moment he forgot +his downfall in the recollection of his brilliant triumphs. +Amongst the men of his class and occupation who +slept in those dark houses he had been indeed the first. + "It is hard," muttered Lingard, pensively. "But +whose the fault? Whose the fault?" + "Captain Lingard!" cried Willems, under the sudden + + +40 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +impulse of a felicitous inspiration, "if you leave me +here on this jetty--it's murder. I shall never return +to that place alive, wife or no wife. You may just as +well cut my throat at once." + The old seaman started. + "Don't try to frighten me, Willems," he said, with +great severity, and paused. + Above the accents of Willems' brazen despair he +heard, with considerable uneasiness, the whisper of +his own absurd conscience. He meditated for awhile +with an irresolute air. + "I could tell you to go and drown yourself, and be +damned to you," he said, with an unsuccessful assump- +tion of brutality in his manner, "but I won't. We +are responsible for one another--worse luck. I am +almost ashamed of myself, but I can understand your +dirty pride. I can! By . . ." + He broke off with a loud sigh and walked briskly +to the steps, at the bottom of which lay his boat, +rising and falling gently on the slight and invisible swell. + "Below there! Got a lamp in the boat? Well, +light it and bring it up, one of you. Hurry now!" + He tore out a page of his pocketbook, moistened +his pencil with great energy and waited, stamping his +feet impatiently. + "I will see this thing through," he muttered to him- +self. "And I will have it all square and ship-shape; +see if I don't! Are you going to bring that lamp, you +son of a crippled mud-turtle? I am waiting." + The gleam of the light on the paper placated his +professional anger, and he wrote rapidly, the final dash +of his signature curling the paper up in a triangular +tear. + "Take that to this white Tuan's house. I will send +the boat back for you in half an hour." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 41 + + The coxswain raised his lamp deliberately to Wil- +lem's face. + "This Tuan? Tau! I know." + "Quick then!" said Lingard, taking the lamp from +him--and the man went off at a run. + "Kassi mem! To the lady herself," called Lingard +after him. + Then, when the man disappeared, he turned to +Willems. + "I have written to your wife," he said. "If you +do not return for good, you do not go back to that +house only for another parting. You must come as +you stand. I won't have that poor woman tormented. +I will see to it that you are not separated for long. +Trust me!" + Willems shivered, then smiled in the darkness. + "No fear of that," he muttered, enigmatically. "I +trust you implicitly, Captain Lingard," he added, in a +louder tone. + Lingard led the way down the steps, swinging the +lamp and speaking over his shoulder. + "It is the second time, Willems, I take you in hand. +Mind it is the last. The second time; and the only +difference between then and now is that you were bare- +footed then and have boots now. In fourteen years. +With all your smartness! A poor result that. A very +poor result." + He stood for awhile on the lowest platform of the +steps, the light of the lamp falling on the upturned +face of the stroke oar, who held the gunwale of the boat +close alongside, ready for the captain to step in. + "You see," he went on, argumentatively, fumbling +about the top of the lamp, "you got yourself so crooked +amongst those 'longshore quill-drivers that you could +not run clear in any way. That's what comes of such + + +42 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +talk as yours, and of such a life. A man sees so much +falsehood that he begins to lie to himself. Pah!" +he said, in disgust, "there's only one place for an honest +man. The sea, my boy, the sea! But you never would; +didn't think there was enough money in it; and now-- +look!" + He blew the light out, and, stepping into the boat, +stretched quickly his hand towards Willems, with friendly +care. Willems sat by him in silence, and the boat +shoved off, sweeping in a wide circle towards the brig. + "Your compassion is all for my wife, Captain Lin- +gard," said Willems, moodily. "Do you think I am +so very happy?" + "No! no!" said Lingard, heartily. "Not a word +more shall pass my lips. I had to speak my mind +once, seeing that I knew you from a child, so to speak. +And now I shall forget; but you are young yet. Life +is very long," he went on, with unconscious sadness; +"let this be a lesson to you." + He laid his hand affectionately on Willems' shoulder, +and they both sat silent till the boat came alongside the +ship's ladder. + When on board Lingard gave orders to his mate, +and leading Willems on the poop, sat on the breech of +one of the brass six-pounders with which his vessel was +armed. The boat went off again to bring back the mes- +senger. As soon as it was seen returning dark forms +appeared on the brig's spars; then the sails fell in fes- +toons with a swish of their heavy folds, and hung motion- +less under the yards in the dead calm of the clear +and dewy night. From the forward end came the +clink of the windlass, and soon afterwards the hail of +the chief mate informing Lingard that the cable was +hove short. + "Hold on everything," hailed back Lingard; "we + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 43 + +must wait for the land-breeze before we let go our hold +of the ground." + He approached Willems, who sat on the skylight, +his body bent down, his head low, and his hands hang- +ing listlessly between his knees. + "I am going to take you to Sambir," he said. +"You've never heard of the place, have you? Well, it's +up that river of mine about which people talk so much +and know so little. I've found out the entrance for a ship +of <i>Flash's</I> size. It isn't easy. You'll see. I will show +you. You have been at sea long enough to take an +interest. . . . Pity you didn't stick to it. Well, +I am going there. I have my own trading post in the +place. Almayer is my partner. You knew him when +he was at Hudig's. Oh, he lives there as happy as a +king. D'ye see, I have them all in my pocket. The +rajah is an old friend of mine. My word is law--and I +am the only trader. No other white man but Almayer +had ever been in that settlement. You will live quietly +there till I come back from my next cruise to the west- +ward. We shall see then what can be done for you. +Never fear. I have no doubt my secret will be safe +with you. Keep mum about my river when you get +amongst the traders again. There's many would give +their ears for the knowledge of it. I'll tell you some- +thing: that's where I get all my guttah and rattans. +Simply inexhaustible, my boy." + While Lingard spoke Willems looked up quickly, +but soon his head fell on his breast in the discouraging +certitude that the knowledge he and Hudig had wished +for so much had come to him too late. He sat in a +listless attitude. + "You will help Almayer in his trading if you have a +heart for it," continued Lingard, "just to kill time till I +come back for you. Only six weeks or so." + + +44 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + Over their heads the damp sails fluttered noisily in +the first faint puff of the breeze; then, as the airs fresh- +ened, the brig tended to the wind, and the silenced +canvas lay quietly aback. The mate spoke with low +distinctness from the shadows of the quarter-deck. + "There's the breeze. Which way do you want to +cast her, Captain Lingard?" + Lingard's eyes, that had been fixed aloft, glanced +down at the dejected figure of the man sitting on the +skylight. He seemed to hesitate for a minute. + "To the northward, to the northward," he answered, +testily, as if annoyed at his own fleeting thought, "and +bear a hand there. Every puff of wind is worth money +in these seas." + He remained motionless, listening to the rattle of +blocks and the creaking of trusses as the head-yards +were hauled round. Sail was made on the ship and +the windlass manned again while he stood still, lost in +thought. He only roused himself when a barefooted +seacannie glided past him silently on his way to the +wheel. + "Put the helm aport! Hard over!" he said, in his +harsh sea-voice, to the man whose face appeared sud- +denly out of the darkness in the circle of light thrown +upwards from the binnacle lamps. + The anchor was secured, the yards trimmed, and the +brig began to move out of the roadstead. The sea +woke up under the push of the sharp cutwater, and whis- +pered softly to the gliding craft in that tender and rip- +pling murmur in which it speaks sometimes to those it +nurses and loves. Lingard stood by the taff-rail lis- +tening, with a pleased smile till the <i>Flash</I> began to draw +close to the only other vessel in the anchorage. + "Here, Willems," he said, calling him to his side, +"d'ye see that barque here? That's an Arab vessel. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 45 + +White men have mostly given up the game, but this +fellow drops in my wake often, and lives in hopes of +cutting me out in that settlement. Not while I live, +I trust. You see, Willems, I brought prosperity to +that place. I composed their quarrels, and saw them +grow under my eyes. There's peace and happiness +there. I am more master there than his Dutch Excel- +lency down in Batavia ever will be when some day a +lazy man-of-war blunders at last against the river. +I mean to keep the Arabs out of it, with their lies +and their intrigues. I shall keep the venomous breed out, +if it costs me my fortune." + The <i>Flash</I> drew quietly abreast of the barque, and +was beginning to drop it astern when a white figure +started up on the poop of the Arab vessel, and a voice +called out-- + "Greeting to the Rajah Laut!" + "To you greeting!" answered Lingard, after a mo- +ment of hesitating surprise. Then he turned to Wil- +lems with a grim smile. "That's Abdulla's voice," +he said. "Mighty civil all of a sudden, isn't he? I +wonder what it means. Just like his impudence! No +matter! His civility or his impudence are all one to +me. I know that this fellow will be under way and +after me like a shot. I don't care! I have the heels of +anything that floats in these seas," he added, while his +proud and loving glance ran over and rested fondly +amongst the brig's lofty and graceful spars. + + + CHAPTER FIVE + + "IT WAS the writing on his forehead," said Baba- +latchi, adding a couple of small sticks to the little fire +by which he was squatting, and without looking at +Lakamba who lay down supported on his elbow on +the other side of the embers. "It was written when he +was born that he should end his life in darkness, and +now he is like a man walking in a black night--with +his eyes open, yet seeing not. I knew him well when +he had slaves, and many wives, and much merchandise, +and trading praus, and praus for fighting. Hai--ya! +He was a great fighter in the days before the breath of +the Merciful put out the light in his eyes. He was a +pilgrim, and had many virtues: he was brave, his hand +was open, and he was a great robber. For many years +he led the men that drank blood on the sea: first in +prayer and first in fight! Have I not stood behind him +when his face was turned to the West? Have I not +watched by his side ships with high masts burning in a +straight flame on the calm water? Have I not fol- +lowed him on dark nights amongst sleeping men that +woke up only to die? His sword was swifter than the +fire from Heaven, and struck before it flashed. Hai! +Tuan! Those were the days and that was a leader, +and I myself was younger; and in those days there were +not so many fireships with guns that deal fiery death +from afar. Over the hill and over the forest--O! +Tuan Lakamba! they dropped whistling fireballs into +the creek where our praus took refuge, and where they +dared not follow men who had arms in their hands." + +46 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 47 + + He shook his head with mournful regret and threw +another handful of fuel on the fire. The burst of clear +flame lit up his broad, dark, and pock-marked face, +where the big lips, stained with betel-juice, looked like +a deep and bleeding gash of a fresh wound. The re- +flection of the firelight gleamed brightly in his solitary +eye, lending it for a moment a fierce animation that died +out together with the short-lived flame. With quick +touches of his bare hands he raked the embers into a +heap, then, wiping the warm ash on his waistcloth--his +only garment--he clasped his thin legs with his en- +twined fingers, and rested his chin on his drawn-up +knees. Lakamba stirred slightly without changing his +position or taking his eyes off the glowing coals, on +which they had been fixed in dreamy immobility. + "Yes," went on Babalatchi, in a low monotone, as +if pursuing aloud a train of thought that had its be- +ginning in the silent contemplation of the unstable +nature of earthly greatness--"yes. He has been rich +and strong, and now he lives on alms: old, feeble, blind, +and without companions, but for his daughter. The +Rajah Patalolo gives him rice, and the pale woman-- +his daughter--cooks it for him, for he has no slave." + "I saw her from afar," muttered Lakamba, dis- +paragingly. "A she-dog with white teeth, like a woman +of the Orang-Putih." + "Right, right," assented Babalatchi; "but you have +not seen her near. Her mother was a woman from the +west; a Baghdadi woman with veiled face. Now she +goes uncovered, like our women do, for she is poor and he +is blind, and nobody ever comes near them unless to ask +for a charm or a blessing and depart quickly for fear of +his anger and of the Rajah's hand. You have not been +on that side of the river?" + "Not for a long time. If I go . . ." + + +48 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "True! true!" interrupted Babalatchi, soothingly, +"but I go often alone--for your good--and look--and +listen. When the time comes; when we both go to- +gether towards the Rajah's campong, it will be to enter-- +and to remain." + Lakamba sat up and looked at Babalatchi gloomily. + "This is good talk, once, twice; when it is heard too +often it becomes foolish, like the prattle of children." + "Many, many times have I seen the cloudy sky and +have heard the wind of the rainy seasons," said Baba- +latchi, impressively. + "And where is your wisdom? It must be with the +wind and the clouds of seasons past, for I do not hear it +in your talk." + "Those are the words of the ungrateful!" shouted +Babalatchi, with sudden exasperation. "Verily, our +only refuge is with the One, the Mighty, the Redresser +of . . ." + "Peace! Peace!" growled the startled Lakamba. +"It is but a friend's talk." + Babalatchi subsided into his former attitude, mutter- +ing to himself. After awhile he went on again in a +louder voice-- + "Since the Rajah Laut left another white man here +in Sambir, the daughter of the blind Omar el Badavi +has spoken to other ears than mine." + "Would a white man listen to a beggar's daughter?" +said Lakamba, doubtingly. + "Hai! I have seen . . ." + "And what did you see? O one-eyed one!" ex- +claimed Lakamba, contemptuously. + "I have seen the strange white man walking on the +narrow path before the sun could dry the drops of +dew on the bushes, and I have heard the whisper of +his voice when he spoke through the smoke of the + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 49 + +morning fire to that woman with big eyes and a pale +skin. Woman in body, but in heart a man! She +knows no fear and no shame. I have heard her voice +too." + He nodded twice at Lakamba sagaciously and gave +himself up to silent musing, his solitary eye fixed im- +movably upon the straight wall of forest on the opposite +bank. Lakamba lay silent, staring vacantly. Under +them Lingard's own river rippled softly amongst the +piles supporting the bamboo platform of the little +watch-house before which they were lying. Behind +the house the ground rose in a gentle swell of a low hill +cleared of the big timber, but thickly overgrown with +the grass and bushes, now withered and burnt up in +the long drought of the dry season. This old rice +clearing, which had been several years lying fallow, +was framed on three sides by the impenetrable and +tangled growth of the untouched forest, and on the +fourth came down to the muddy river bank. There +was not a breath of wind on the land or river, but high +above, in the transparent sky, little clouds rushed past +the moon, now appearing in her diffused rays with the +brilliance of silver, now obscuring her face with the +blackness of ebony. Far away, in the middle of the +river, a fish would leap now and then with a short +splash, the very loudness of which measured the pro- +fundity of the overpowering silence that swallowed up +the sharp sound suddenly. + Lakamba dozed uneasily off, but the wakeful Baba- +latchi sat thinking deeply, sighing from time to time, +and slapping himself over his naked torso incessantly +in a vain endeavour to keep off an occasional and +wandering mosquito that, rising as high as the plat- +form above the swarms of the riverside, would settle +with a ping of triumph on the unexpected victim. + + +50 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +The moon, pursuing her silent and toilsome path, +attained her highest elevation, and chasing the shadow +of the roof-eaves from Lakamba's face, seemed to hang +arrested over their heads. Babalatchi revived the fire +and woke up his companion, who sat up yawning and +shivering discontentedly. + Babalatchi spoke again in a voice which was like +the murmur of a brook that runs over the stones: +low, monotonous, persistent; irresistible in its power +to wear out and to destroy the hardest obstacles. +Lakamba listened, silent but interested. They were +Malay adventurers; ambitious men of that place and +time; the Bohemians of their race. In the early days +of the settlement, before the ruler Patalolo had shaken +off his allegiance to the Sultan of Koti, Lakamba ap- +peared in the river with two small trading vessels. +He was disappointed to find already some semblance of +organization amongst the settlers of various races who +recognized the unobtrusive sway of old Patalolo, and +he was not politic enough to conceal his disappoint- +ment. He declared himself to be a man from the east, +from those parts where no white man ruled, and to +be of an oppressed race, but of a princely family. And +truly enough he had all the gifts of an exiled prince. +He was discontented, ungrateful, turbulent; a man full +of envy and ready for intrigue, with brave words and +empty promises for ever on his lips. He was obstinate, +but his will was made up of short impulses that never +lasted long enough to carry him to the goal of his ambi- +tion. Received coldly by the suspicious Patalolo, he +persisted--permission or no permission--in clearing the +ground on a good spot some fourteen miles down the +river from Sambir, and built himself a house there, which +he fortified by a high palisade. As he had many fol- +lowers and seemed very reckless, the old Rajah did not + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 51 + +think it prudent at the time to interfere with him by +force. Once settled, he began to intrigue. The quarrel +of Patalolo with the Sultan of Koti was of his fomenting, +but failed to produce the result he expected because +the Sultan could not back him up effectively at such +a great distance. Disappointed in that scheme, he +promptly organized an outbreak of the Bugis settlers, +and besieged the old Rajah in his stockade with much +noisy valour and a fair chance of success; but Lingard +then appeared on the scene with the armed brig, and +the old seaman's hairy forefinger, shaken menacingly +in his face, quelled his martial ardour. No man cared +to encounter the Rajah Laut, and Lakamba, with +momentary resignation, subsided into a half-cultivator, +half-trader, and nursed in his fortified house his wrath +and his ambition, keeping it for use on a more pro- +pitious occasion. Still faithful to his character of a +prince-pretender, he would not recognize the con- +stituted authorities, answering sulkily the Rajah's +messenger, who claimed the tribute for the cultivated +fields, that the Rajah had better come and take it +himself. By Lingard's advice he was left alone, not- +withstanding his rebellious mood; and for many days +he lived undisturbed amongst his wives and retainers, +cherishing that persistent and causeless hope of better +times, the possession of which seems to be the universal +privilege of exiled greatness. + But the passing days brought no change. The hope +grew faint and the hot ambition burnt itself out, +leaving only a feeble and expiring spark amongst a +heap of dull and tepid ashes of indolent acquiescence +with the decrees of Fate, till Babalatchi fanned it again +into a bright flame. Babalatchi had blundered upon +the river while in search of a safe refuge for his dis- +reputable head. He was a vagabond of the seas, a + + +52 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +true Orang-Laut, living by rapine and plunder of coasts +and ships in his prosperous days; earning his living by +honest and irksome toil when the days of adversity +were upon him. So, although at times leading the +Sulu rovers, he had also served as Serang of country +ships, and in that wise had visited the distant seas, +beheld the glories of Bombay, the might of the Mascati +Sultan; had even struggled in a pious throng for the +privilege of touching with his lips the Sacred Stone of +the Holy City. He gathered experience and wisdom +in many lands, and after attaching himself to Omar el +Badavi, he affected great piety (as became a pilgrim), +although unable to read the inspired words of the +Prophet. He was brave and bloodthirsty without any +affection, and he hated the white men who interfered +with the manly pursuits of throat-cutting, kidnapping, +slave-dealing, and fire-raising, that were the only pos- +sible occupation for a true man of the sea. He found +favour in the eyes of his chief, the fearless Omar el +Badavi, the leader of Brunei rovers, whom he followed +with unquestioning loyalty through the long years +of successful depredation. And when that long career +of murder, robbery and violence received its first +serious check at the hands of white men, he stood faith- +fully by his chief, looked steadily at the bursting shells, +was undismayed by the flames of the burning strong- +hold, by the death of his companions, by the shrieks of +their women, the wailing of their children; by the sud- +den ruin and destruction of all that he deemed indis- +pensable to a happy and glorious existence. The beaten +ground between the houses was slippery with blood, +and the dark mangroves of the muddy creeks were full +of sighs of the dying men who were stricken down before +they could see their enemy. They died helplessly, for +into the tangled forest there was no escape, and their + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 53 + +swift praus, in which they had so often scoured the +coast and the seas, now wedged together in the narrow +creek, were burning fiercely. Babalatchi, with the +clear perception of the coming end, devoted all his +energies to saving if it was but only one of them. +He succeeded in time. When the end came in the +explosion of the stored powder-barrels, he was ready +to look for his chief. He found him half dead and +totally blinded, with nobody near him but his daughter +Aissa:--the sons had fallen earlier in the day, as +became men of their courage. Helped by the girl +with the steadfast heart, Babalatchi carried Omar on +board the light prau and succeeded in escaping, but +with very few companions only. As they hauled their +craft into the network of dark and silent creeks, they +could hear the cheering of the crews of the man-of- +war's boats dashing to the attack of the rover's village. +Aissa, sitting on the high after-deck, her father's +blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked up with +fearless eyes at Babalatchi. "They shall find only +smoke, blood and dead men, and women mad with fear +there, but nothing else living," she said, mournfully. +Babalatchi, pressing with his right hand the deep gash +on his shoulder, answered sadly: "They are very strong. +When we fight with them we can only die. Yet," he +added, menacingly--"some of us still live! Some of +us still live!" + For a short time he dreamed of vengeance, but his +dream was dispelled by the cold reception of the Sultan +of Sulu, with whom they sought refuge at first and who +gave them only a contemptuous and grudging hospi- +tality. While Omar, nursed by Aissa, was recovering +from his wounds, Babalatchi attended industriously +before the exalted Presence that had extended to them +the hand of Protection. For all that, when Babalatchi + + +54 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +spoke into the Sultan's ear certain proposals of a great +and profitable raid, that was to sweep the islands from +Ternate to Acheen, the Sultan was very angry. "I +know you, you men from the west," he exclaimed, +angrily. "Your words are poison in a Ruler's ears. +Your talk is of fire and murder and booty--but on our +heads falls the vengeance of the blood you drink. +Begone!" + There was nothing to be done. Times were changed. +So changed that, when a Spanish frigate appeared +before the island and a demand was sent to the Sultan +to deliver Omar and his companions, Babalatchi was not +surprised to hear that they were going to be made the +victims of political expediency. But from that sane +appreciation of danger to tame submission was a very +long step. And then began Omar's second flight. It +began arms in hand, for the little band had to fight in +the night on the beach for the possession of the small +canoes in which those that survived got away at last. +The story of that escape lives in the hearts of brave +men even to this day. They talk of Babalatchi and of +the strong woman who carried her blind father through +the surf under the fire of the warship from the north. +The companions of that piratical and son-less AEneas +are dead now, but their ghosts wander over the waters +and the islands at night--after the manner of ghosts +--and haunt the fires by which sit armed men, as is +meet for the spirits of fearless warriors who died in +battle. There they may hear the story of their own +deeds, of their own courage, suffering and death, on +the lips of living men. That story is told in many +places. On the cool mats in breezy verandahs of +Rajahs' houses it is alluded to disdainfully by impassive +statesmen, but amongst armed men that throng the +courtyards it is a tale which stills the murmur of + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 55 + +voices and the tinkle of anklets; arrests the passage +of the siri-vessel, and fixes the eyes in absorbed gaze. +They talk of the fight, of the fearless woman, of the +wise man; of long suffering on the thirsty sea in leaky +canoes; of those who died. . . . Many died. A +few survived. The chief, the woman, and another one +who became great. + There was no hint of incipient greatness in Baba- +latchi's unostentatious arrival in Sambir. He came +with Omar and Aissa in a small prau loaded with green +cocoanuts, and claimed the ownership of both vessel +and cargo. How it came to pass that Babalatchi, +fleeing for his life in a small canoe, managed to end his +hazardous journey in a vessel full of a valuable com- +modity, is one of those secrets of the sea that baffle +the most searching inquiry. In truth nobody inquired +much. There were rumours of a missing trading prau +belonging to Menado, but they were vague and re- +mained mysterious. Babalatchi told a story which-- +it must be said in justice to Patalolo's knowledge of the +world--was not believed. When the Rajah ventured +to state his doubts, Babalatchi asked him in tones of +calm remonstrance whether he could reasonably suppose +that two oldish men--who had only one eye amongst +them--and a young woman were likely to gain posses- +sion of anything whatever by violence? Charity was a +virtue recommended by the Prophet. There were +charitable people, and their hand was open to the de- +serving. Patalolo wagged his aged head doubtingly, +and Babalatchi withdrew with a shocked mien and put +himself forthwith under Lakamba's protection. The +two men who completed the prau's crew followed him +into that magnate's campong. The blind Omar, with +Aissa, remained under the care of the Rajah, and the +Rajah confiscated the cargo. The prau hauled up on + + +56 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +the mud-bank, at the junction of the two branches of the +Pantai, rotted in the rain, warped in the sun, fell to +pieces and gradually vanished into the smoke of house- +hold fires of the settlement. Only a forgotten plank +and a rib or two, sticking neglected in the shiny ooze +for a long time, served to remind Babalatchi during +many months that he was a stranger in the land. + Otherwise, he felt perfectly at home in Lakamba's +establishment, where his peculiar position and influence +were quickly recognized and soon submitted to even +by the women. He had all a true vagabond's plia- +bility to circumstances and adaptiveness to momentary +surroundings. In his readiness to learn from experi- +ence that contempt for early principles so necessary +to a true statesman, he equalled the most successful +politicians of any age; and he had enough persuasiveness +and firmness of purpose to acquire a complete mastery +over Lakamba's vacillating mind--where there was +nothing stable but an all-pervading discontent. He +kept the discontent alive, he rekindled the expiring +ambition, he moderated the poor exile's not unnatural +impatience to attain a high and lucrative position. He +--the man of violence--deprecated the use of force, +for he had a clear comprehension of the difficult situa- +tion. From the same cause, he--the hater of white +men--would to some extent admit the eventual ex- +pediency of Dutch protection. But nothing should be +done in a hurry. Whatever his master Lakamba might +think, there was no use in poisoning old Patalolo, he +maintained. It could be done, of course; but what +then? As long as Lingard's influence was paramount-- +as long as Almayer, Lingard's representative, was the +only great trader of the settlement, it was not worth +Lakamba's while--even if it had been possible--to grasp +the rule of the young state. Killing Almayer and Lin- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 57 + +gard was so difficult and so risky that it might be dis- +missed as impracticable. What was wanted was an +alliance; somebody to set up against the white men's +influence--and somebody who, while favourable to La- +kamba, would at the same time be a person of a good +standing with the Dutch authorities. A rich and con- +sidered trader was wanted. Such a person once firmly +established in Sambir would help them to oust the old +Rajah, to remove him from power or from life if there +was no other way. Then it would be time to apply to +the Orang Blanda for a flag; for a recognition of their +meritorious services; for that protection which would +make them safe for ever! The word of a rich and +loyal trader would mean something with the Ruler +down in Batavia. The first thing to do was to find +such an ally and to induce him to settle in Sambir. +A white trader would not do. A white man would +not fall in with their ideas--would not be trustworthy. +The man they wanted should be rich, unscrupulous, +have many followers, and be a well-known personality +in the islands. Such a man might be found amongst +the Arab traders. Lingard's jealousy, said Babalatchi, +kept all the traders out of the river. Some were afraid, +and some did not know how to get there; others ig- +nored the very existence of Sambir; a good many did +not think it worth their while to run the risk of Lin- +gard's enmity for the doubtful advantage of trade +with a comparatively unknown settlement. The great +majority were undesirable or untrustworthy. And +Babalatchi mentioned regretfully the men he had +known in his young days: wealthy, resolute, courageous, +reckless, ready for any enterprise! But why lament +the past and speak about the dead? There is one man +--living--great--not far off . . . + Such was Babalatchi's line of policy laid before his + + +58 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +ambitious protector. Lakamba assented, his only ob- +jection being that it was very slow work. In his +extreme desire to grasp dollars and power, the unintel- +lectual exile was ready to throw himself into the arms +of any wandering cut-throat whose help could be +secured, and Babalatchi experienced great difficulty in +restraining him from unconsidered violence. It would +not do to let it be seen that they had any hand in +introducing a new element into the social and political +life of Sambir. There was always a possibility of +failure, and in that case Lingard's vengeance would be +swift and certain. No risk should be run. They must +wait. + Meantime he pervaded the settlement, squatting in +the course of each day by many household fires, testing +the public temper and public opinion--and always +talking about his impending departure. At night he +would often take Lakamba's smallest canoe and depart +silently to pay mysterious visits to his old chief on the +other side of the river. Omar lived in odour of sanc- +tity under the wing of Patalolo. Between the bamboo +fence, enclosing the houses of the Rajah, and the wild +forest, there was a banana plantation, and on its +further edge stood two little houses built on low piles +under a few precious fruit trees that grew on the banks +of a clear brook, which, bubbling up behind the house, +ran in its short and rapid course down to the big river. +Along the brook a narrow path led through the dense +second growth of a neglected clearing to the banana +plantation and to the houses in it which the Rajah had +given for residence to Omar. The Rajah was greatly +impressed by Omar's ostentatious piety, by his oracular +wisdom, by his many misfortunes, by the solemn +fortitude with which he bore his affliction. Often the +old ruler of Sambir would visit informally the blind + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 59 + +Arab and listen gravely to his talk during the hot hours +of an afternoon. In the night, Babalatchi would call +and interrupt Omar's repose, unrebuked. Aissa, stand- +ing silently at the door of one of the huts, could see the +two old friends as they sat very still by the fire in the +middle of the beaten ground between the two houses, +talking in an indistinct murmur far into the night. She +could not hear their words, but she watched the two +formless shadows curiously. Finally Babalatchi would +rise and, taking her father by the wrist, would lead him +back to the house, arrange his mats for him, and go out +quietly. Instead of going away, Babalatchi, uncon- +scious of Aissa's eyes, often sat again by the fire, in a +long and deep meditation. Aissa looked with respect +on that wise and brave man--she was accustomed to +see at her father's side as long as she could remember +--sitting alone and thoughtful in the silent night by +the dying fire, his body motionless and his mind wan- +dering in the land of memories, or--who knows?-- +perhaps groping for a road in the waste spaces of the +uncertain future. + Babalatchi noted the arrival of Willems with alarm +at this new accession to the white men's strength. +Afterwards he changed his opinion. He met Willems +one night on the path leading to Omar's house, and +noticed later on, with only a moderate surprise, that +the blind Arab did not seem to be aware of the new +white man's visits to the neighbourhood of his dwell- +ing. Once, coming unexpectedly in the daytime, +Babalatchi fancied he could see the gleam of a white +jacket in the bushes on the other side of the brook. +That day he watched Aissa pensively as she moved +about preparing the evening rice; but after awhile he +went hurriedly away before sunset, refusing Omar's +hospitable invitation, in the name of Allah, to share + + +60 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +their meal. That same evening he startled Lakamba by +announcing that the time had come at last to make +the first move in their long-deferred game. Lakamba +asked excitedly for explanation. Babalatchi shook +his head and pointed to the flitting shadows of moving +women and to the vague forms of men sitting by the +evening fires in the courtyard. Not a word would he +speak here, he declared. But when the whole house- +hold was reposing, Babalatchi and Lakamba passed +silent amongst sleeping groups to the riverside, and, +taking a canoe, paddled off stealthily on their way to +the dilapidated guard-hut in the old rice-clearing. +There they were safe from all eyes and ears, and +could account, if need be, for their excursion by the +wish to kill a deer, the spot being well known as the +drinking-place of all kinds of game. In the seclu- +sion of its quiet solitude Babalatchi explained his +plan to the attentive Lakamba. His idea was to +make use of Willems for the destruction of Lingard's +influence. + "I know the white men, Tuan," he said, in con- +clusion. "In many lands have I seen them; always +the slaves of their desires, always ready to give up +their strength and their reason into the hands of some +woman. The fate of the Believers is written by the +hand of the Mighty One, but they who worship many +gods are thrown into the world with smooth foreheads, +for any woman's hand to mark their destruction there. +Let one white man destroy another. The will of the +Most High is that they should be fools. They know +how to keep faith with their enemies, but towards each +other they know only deception. Hai! I have seen! +I have seen!" + He stretched himself full length before the fire, and +closed his eye in real or simulated sleep. Lakamba, + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 61 + +not quite convinced, sat for a long time with his gaze +riveted on the dull embers. As the night advanced, +a slight white mist rose from the river, and the declining +moon, bowed over the tops of the forest, seemed to seek +the repose of the earth, like a wayward and wandering +lover who returns at last to lay his tired and silent head +on his beloved's breast. + + + CHAPTER SIX + + "LEND me your gun, Almayer," said Willems, across +the table on which a smoky lamp shone redly above the +disorder of a finished meal. "I have a mind to go and +look for a deer when the moon rises to-night." + Almayer, sitting sidewise to the table, his elbow +pushed amongst the dirty plates, his chin on his breast +and his legs stretched stiffly out, kept his eyes steadily +on the toes of his grass slippers and laughed abruptly. + "You might say yes or no instead of making that +unpleasant noise," remarked Willems, with calm irrita- +tion. + "If I believed one word of what you say, I would," +answered Almayer without changing his attitude and +speaking slowly, with pauses, as if dropping his words +on the floor. "As it is--what's the use? You know +where the gun is; you may take it or leave it. Gun. +Deer. Bosh! Hunt deer! Pah! It's a . . . ga- +zelle you are after, my honoured guest. You want gold +anklets and silk sarongs for that game--my mighty +hunter. And you won't get those for the asking, I +promise you. All day amongst the natives. A fine +help you are to me." + "You shouldn't drink so much, Almayer," said +Willems, disguising his fury under an affected drawl. +"You have no head. Never had, as far as I can +remember, in the old days in Macassar. You drink +too much." + "I drink my own," retorted Almayer, lifting his +head quickly and darting an angry glance at Willems. + +62 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 63 + + Those two specimens of the superior race glared at +each other savagely for a minute, then turned away +their heads at the same moment as if by previous +arrangement, and both got up. Almayer kicked off his +slippers and scrambled into his hammock, which hung +between two wooden columns of the verandah so as +to catch every rare breeze of the dry season, and +Willems, after standing irresolutely by the table for +a short time, walked without a word down the steps +of the house and over the courtyard towards the little +wooden jetty, where several small canoes and a couple +of big white whale-boats were made fast, tugging at +their short painters and bumping together in the +swift current of the river. He jumped into the smallest +canoe, balancing himself clumsily, slipped the rattan +painter, and gave an unnecessary and violent shove, +which nearly sent him headlong overboard. By the +time he regained his balance the canoe had drifted +some fifty yards down the river. He knelt in the bot- +tom of his little craft and fought the current with long +sweeps of the paddle. Almayer sat up in his hammock, +grasping his feet and peering over the river with parted +lips till he made out the shadowy form of man and canoe +as they struggled past the jetty again. + "I thought you would go," he shouted. "Won't +you take the gun? Hey?" he yelled, straining his +voice. Then he fell back in his hammock and laughed +to himself feebly till he fell asleep. On the river, Wil- +lems, his eyes fixed intently ahead, swept his paddle +right and left, unheeding the words that reached him +faintly. + It was now three months since Lingard had landed +Willems in Sambir and had departed hurriedly, leaving +him in Almayer's care. The two white men did not +get on well together. Almayer, remembering the time + + +64 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +when they both served Hudig, and when the superior +Willems treated him with offensive condescension, felt +a great dislike towards his guest. He was also jealous of +Lingard's favour. Almayer had married a Malay girl +whom the old seaman had adopted in one of his accesses +of unreasoning benevolence, and as the marriage was not +a happy one from a domestic point of view, he looked to +Lingard's fortune for compensation in his matrimonial +unhappiness. The appearance of that man, who seemed +to have a claim of some sort upon Lingard, filled him +with considerable uneasiness, the more so because the +old seaman did not choose to acquaint the husband of +his adopted daughter with Willems' history, or to +confide to him his intentions as to that individual's +future fate. Suspicious from the first, Almayer dis- +couraged Willems' attempts to help him in his trading, +and then when Willems drew back, he made, with +characteristic perverseness, a grievance of his uncon- +cern. From cold civility in their relations, the two men +drifted into silent hostility, then into outspoken +enmity, and both wished ardently for Lingard's return +and the end of a situation that grew more intolerable +from day to day. The time dragged slowly. Willems +watched the succeeding sunrises wondering dismally +whether before the evening some change would occur +in the deadly dullness of his life. He missed the com- +mercial activity of that existence which seemed to him +far off, irreparably lost, buried out of sight under the +ruins of his past success--now gone from him beyond +the possibility of redemption. He mooned disconso- +lately about Almayer's courtyard, watching from afar, +with uninterested eyes, the up-country canoes dis- +charging guttah or rattans, and loading rice or European +goods on the little wharf of Lingard & Co. Big as was +the extent of ground owned by Almayer, Willems yet felt + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 65 + +that there was not enough room for him inside those +neat fences. The man who, during long years, became +accustomed to think of himself as indispensable to +others, felt a bitter and savage rage at the cruel con- +sciousness of his superfluity, of his uselessness; at the +cold hostility visible in every look of the only white man +in this barbarous corner of the world. He gnashed his +teeth when he thought of the wasted days, of the life +thrown away in the unwilling company of that peevish +and suspicious fool. He heard the reproach of his idle- +ness in the murmurs of the river, in the unceasing whis- +per of the great forests. Round him everything stirred, +moved, swept by in a rush; the earth under his feet +and the heavens above his head. The very savages +around him strove, struggled, fought, worked--if only +to prolong a miserable existence; but they lived, they +lived! And it was only himself that seemed to be left +outside the scheme of creation in a hopeless immobility +filled with tormenting anger and with ever-stinging +regret. + He took to wandering about the settlement. The +afterwards flourishing Sambir was born in a swamp +and passed its youth in malodorous mud. The houses +crowded the bank, and, as if to get away from the +unhealthy shore, stepped boldly into the river, shoot- +ing over it in a close row of bamboo platforms elevated +on high piles, amongst which the current below spoke +in a soft and unceasing plaint of murmuring eddies. +There was only one path in the whole town and it ran +at the back of the houses along the succession of +blackened circular patches that marked the place of +the household fires. On the other side the virgin +forest bordered the path, coming close to it, as if to +provoke impudently any passer-by to the solution of +the gloomy problem of its depths. Nobody would + + +66 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +accept the deceptive challenge. There were only a +few feeble attempts at a clearing here and there, but +the ground was low and the river, retiring after its +yearly floods, left on each a gradually diminishing +mudhole, where the imported buffaloes of the Bugis +settlers wallowed happily during the heat of the day. +When Willems walked on the path, the indolent men +stretched on the shady side of the houses looked at +him with calm curiosity, the women busy round the +cooking fires would send after him wondering and timid +glances, while the children would only look once, and +then run away yelling with fright at the horrible appear- +ance of the man with a red and white face. These +manifestations of childish disgust and fear stung Wil- +lems with a sense of absurd humiliation; he sought in +his walks the comparative solitude of the rudimentary +clearings, but the very buffaloes snorted with alarm at +his sight, scrambled lumberingly out of the cool mud +and stared wildly in a compact herd at him as he tried +to slink unperceived along the edge of the forest. One +day, at some unguarded and sudden movement of his, +the whole herd stampeded down the path, scattered the +fires, sent the women flying with shrill cries, and left +behind a track of smashed pots, trampled rice, over- +turned children, and a crowd of angry men brandishing +sticks in loud-voiced pursuit. The innocent cause of +that disturbance ran shamefacedly the gauntlet of +black looks and unfriendly remarks, and hastily sought +refuge in Almayer's campong. After that he left the +settlement alone. + Later, when the enforced confinement grew irksome, +Willems took one of Almayer's many canoes and crossed +the main branch of the Pantai in search of some soli- +tary spot where he could hide his discouragement and +his weariness. He skirted in his little craft the wall of + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 67 + +tangled verdure, keeping in the dead water close to the +bank where the spreading nipa palms nodded their +broad leaves over his head as if in contemptuous pity +of the wandering outcast. Here and there he could see +the beginnings of chopped-out pathways, and, with the +fixed idea of getting out of sight of the busy river, he +would land and follow the narrow and winding path, +only to find that it led nowhere, ending abruptly in the +discouragement of thorny thickets. He would go back +slowly, with a bitter sense of unreasonable disappoint- +ment and sadness; oppressed by the hot smell of earth, +dampness, and decay in that forest which seemed to +push him mercilessly back into the glittering sunshine +of the river. And he would recommence paddling with +tired arms to seek another opening, to find another +deception. + As he paddled up to the point where the Rajah's +stockade came down to the river, the nipas were left +behind rattling their leaves over the brown water, +and the big trees would appear on the bank, tall, +strong, indifferent in the immense solidity of their life, +which endures for ages, to that short and fleeting life +in the heart of the man who crept painfully amongst +their shadows in search of a refuge from the unceasing +reproach of his thoughts. Amongst their smooth trunks +a clear brook meandered for a time in twining lacets +before it made up its mind to take a leap into the hurry- +ing river, over the edge of the steep bank. There was +also a pathway there and it seemed frequented. Wil- +lems landed, and following the capricious promise of the +track soon found himself in a comparatively clear space, +where the confused tracery of sunlight fell through the +branches and the foliage overhead, and lay on the +stream that shone in an easy curve like a bright sword- +blade dropped amongst the long and feathery grass. + + +68 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +Further on, the path continued, narrowed again in the +thick undergrowth. At the end of the first turning +Willems saw a flash of white and colour, a gleam of gold +like a sun-ray lost in shadow, and a vision of blackness +darker than the deepest shade of the forest. He stop- +ped, surprised, and fancied he had heard light footsteps +--growing lighter--ceasing. He looked around. The +grass on the bank of the stream trembled and a tremu- +lous path of its shivering, silver-grey tops ran from the +water to the beginning of the thicket. And yet there +was not a breath of wind. Somebody kind passed there. +He looked pensive while the tremor died out in a quick +tremble under his eyes; and the grass stood high, un- +stirring, with drooping heads in the warm and motion- +less air. + He hurried on, driven by a suddenly awakened curi- +osity, and entered the narrow way between the bushes. +At the next turn of the path he caught again the +glimpse of coloured stuff and of a woman's black hair +before him. He hastened his pace and came in full +view of the object of his pursuit. The woman, who +was carrying two bamboo vessels full of water, heard +his footsteps, stopped, and putting the bamboos down +half turned to look back. Willems also stood still for +a minute, then walked steadily on with a firm tread, +while the woman moved aside to let him pass. He +kept his eyes fixed straight before him, yet almost +unconsciously he took in every detail of the tall and +graceful figure. As he approached her the woman +tossed her head slightly back, and with a free gesture +of her strong, round arm, caught up the mass of loose +black hair and brought it over her shoulder and across +the lower part of her face. The next moment he was +passing her close, walking rigidly, like a man in a trance. +He heard her rapid breathing and he felt the touch of a + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 69 + +look darted at him from half-open eyes. It touched +his brain and his heart together. It seemed to him to +be something loud and stirring like a shout, silent and +penetrating like an inspiration. The momentum of +his motion carried him past her, but an invisible force +made up of surprise and curiosity and desire spun him +round as soon as he had passed. + She had taken up her burden already, with the in- +tention of pursuing her path. His sudden movement +arrested her at the first step, and again she stood +straight, slim, expectant, with a readiness to dart away +suggested in the light immobility of her pose. High +above, the branches of the trees met in a transparent +shimmer of waving green mist, through which the +rain of yellow rays descended upon her head, streamed +in glints down her black tresses, shone with the changing +glow of liquid metal on her face, and lost itself in vanish- +ing sparks in the sombre depths of her eyes that, wide +open now, with enlarged pupils, looked steadily at the +man in her path. And Willems stared at her, charmed +with a charm that carries with it a sense of irreparable +loss, tingling with that feeling which begins like a caress +and ends in a blow, in that sudden hurt of a new emo- +tion making its way into a human heart, with the +brusque stirring of sleeping sensations awakening sud- +denly to the rush of new hopes, new fears, new desires +--and to the flight of one's old self. + She moved a step forward and again halted. A +breath of wind that came through the trees, but in +Willems' fancy seemed to be driven by her moving +figure, rippled in a hot wave round his body and +scorched his face in a burning touch. He drew it in +with a long breath, the last long breath of a soldier +before the rush of battle, of a lover before he takes in +his arms the adored woman; the breath that gives + + +70 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +courage to confront the menace of death or the storm +of passion. + Who was she? Where did she come from? Wonder- +ingly he took his eyes off her face to look round at the +serried trees of the forest that stood big and still and +straight, as if watching him and her breathlessly. He +had been baffled, repelled, almost frightened by the +intensity of that tropical life which wants the sunshine +but works in gloom; which seems to be all grace of +colour and form, all brilliance, all smiles, but is only +the blossoming of the dead; whose mystery holds the +promise of joy and beauty, yet contains nothing but +poison and decay. He had been frightened by the +vague perception of danger before, but now, as he +looked at that life again, his eyes seemed able to pierce +the fantastic veil of creepers and leaves, to look past +the solid trunks, to see through the forbidding gloom-- +and the mystery was disclosed--enchanting, subduing, +beautiful. He looked at the woman. Through the +checkered light between them she appeared to him with +the impalpable distinctness of a dream. The very +spirit of that land of mysterious forests, standing before +him like an apparition behind a transparent veil--a +veil woven of sunbeams and shadows. + She had approached him still nearer. He felt a +strange impatience within him at her advance. Con- +fused thoughts rushed through his head, disordered, +shapeless, stunning. Then he heard his own voice +asking-- + "Who are you?" + "I am the daughter of the blind Omar," she answered, +in a low but steady tone. "And you," she went on, a +little louder, "you are the white trader--the great man +of this place." + "Yes," said Willems, holding her eyes with his in a + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 71 + +sense of extreme effort, "Yes, I am white." Then +he added, feeling as if he spoke about some other man, +"But I am the outcast of my people." + She listened to him gravely. Through the mesh of +scattered hair her face looked like the face of a golden +statue with living eyes. The heavy eyelids dropped +slightly, and from between the long eyelashes she sent +out a sidelong look: hard, keen, and narrow, like the +gleam of sharp steel. Her lips were firm and composed +in a graceful curve, but the distended nostrils, the up- +ward poise of the half-averted head, gave to her whole +person the expression of a wild and resentful defiance. + A shadow passed over Willems' face. He put his +hand over his lips as if to keep back the words that +wanted to come out in a surge of impulsive necessity, +the outcome of dominant thought that rushes from +the heart to the brain and must be spoken in the face +of doubt, of danger, of fear, of destruction itself. + "You are beautiful," he whispered. + She looked at him again with a glance that running +in one quick flash of her eyes over his sunburnt fea- +tures, his broad shoulders, his straight, tall, motion- +less figure, rested at last on the ground at his feet. +Then she smiled. In the sombre beauty of her face +that smile was like the first ray of light on a stormy +daybreak that darts evanescent and pale through the +gloomy clouds: the forerunner of sunrise and of thunder. + + + CHAPTER SEVEN + + THERE are in our lives short periods which hold no +place in memory but only as the recollection of a +feeling. There is no remembrance of gesture, of action, +of any outward manifestation of life; those are lost in +the unearthly brilliance or in the unearthly gloom of +such moments. We are absorbed in the contemplation +of that something, within our bodies, which rejoices or +suffers while the body goes on breathing, instinctively +runs away or, not less instinctively, fights--perhaps dies. +But death in such a moment is the privilege of the for- +tunate, it is a high and rare favour, a supreme grace. + Willems never remembered how and when he parted +from Aissa. He caught himself drinking the muddy +water out of the hollow of his hand, while his canoe was +drifting in mid-stream past the last houses of Sambir. +With his returning wits came the fear of something un- +known that had taken possession of his heart, of some- +thing inarticulate and masterful which could not speak +and would be obeyed. His first impulse was that of +revolt. He would never go back there. Never! He +looked round slowly at the brilliance of things in the +deadly sunshine and took up his paddle! How changed +everything seemed! The river was broader, the sky +was higher. How fast the canoe flew under the strokes +of his paddle! Since when had he acquired the strength +of two men or more? He looked up and down the reach +at the forests of the bank with a confused notion that +with one sweep of his hand he could tumble all these +trees into the stream. His face felt burning. He + +72 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 73 + +drank again, and shuddered with a depraved sense of +pleasure at the after-taste of slime in the water. + It was late when he reached Almayer's house, but +he crossed the dark and uneven courtyard, walking +lightly in the radiance of some light of his own, invisible +to other eyes. His host's sulky greeting jarred him +like a sudden fall down a great height. He took +his place at the table opposite Almayer and tried to +speak cheerfully to his gloomy companion, but when +the meal was ended and they sat smoking in silence +he felt an abrupt discouragement, a lassitude in all his +limbs, a sense of immense sadness as after some great +and irreparable loss. The darkness of the night entered +his heart, bringing with it doubt and hesitation and dull +anger with himself and all the world. He had an im- +pulse to shout horrible curses, to quarrel with Almayer, +to do something violent. Quite without any immediate +provocation he thought he would like to assault the +wretched, sulky beast. He glanced at him ferociously +from under his eyebrows. The unconscious Almayer +smoked thoughtfully, planning to-morrow's work prob- +ably. The man's composure seemed to Willems an un- +pardonable insult. Why didn't that idiot talk to-night +when he wanted him to? . . . on other nights he +was ready enough to chatter. And such dull nonsense +too! And Willems, trying hard to repress his own +senseless rage, looked fixedly through the thick tobacco- +smoke at the stained tablecloth. + They retired early, as usual, but in the middle of the +night Willems leaped out of his hammock with a stifled +execration and ran down the steps into the courtyard. +The two night watchmen, who sat by a little fire talking +together in a monotonous undertone, lifted their heads +to look wonderingly at the discomposed features of the +white man as he crossed the circle of light thrown out + +74 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +by their fire. He disappeared in the darkness and then +came back again, passing them close, but with no sign +of consciousness of their presence on his face. Back- +wards and forwards he paced, muttering to himself, and +the two Malays, after a short consultation in whispers +left the fire quietly, not thinking it safe to remain in the +vicinity of a white man who behaved in such a strange +manner. They retired round the corner of the godown +and watched Willems curiously through the night, till +the short daybreak was followed by the sudden blaze +of the rising sun, and Almayer's establishment woke up +to life and work. + As soon as he could get away unnoticed in the bustle +of the busy riverside, Willems crossed the river on his +way to the place where he had met Aissa. He threw +himself down in the grass by the side of the brook and +listened for the sound of her footsteps. The brilliant +light of day fell through the irregular opening in the +high branches of the trees and streamed down, softened, +amongst the shadows of big trunks. Here and there a +narrow sunbeam touched the rugged bark of a tree with +a golden splash, sparkled on the leaping water of the +brook, or rested on a leaf that stood out, shimmering +and distinct, on the monotonous background of sombre +green tints. The clear gap of blue above his head was +crossed by the quick flight of white rice-birds whose +wings flashed in the sunlight, while through it the heat +poured down from the sky, clung about the steaming +earth, rolled among the trees, and wrapped up Willems +in the soft and odorous folds of air heavy with the faint +scent of blossoms and with the acrid smell of decaying +life. And in that atmosphere of Nature's workshop +Willems felt soothed and lulled into forgetfulness of his +past, into indifference as to his future. The recollec- +tions of his triumphs, of his wrongs and of his ambition + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 75 + +vanished in that warmth, which seemed to melt all +regrets, all hope, all anger, all strength out of his heart. +And he lay there, dreamily contented, in the tepid and +perfumed shelter, thinking of Aissa's eyes; recalling the +sound of her voice, the quiver of her lips--her frowns +and her smile. + She came, of course. To her he was something new, +unknown and strange. He was bigger, stronger than +any man she had seen before, and altogether different +from all those she knew. He was of the victorious race. +With a vivid remembrance of the great catastrophe of +her life he appeared to her with all the fascination of a +great and dangerous thing; of a terror vanquished, sur- +mounted, made a plaything of. They spoke with just +such a deep voice--those victorious men; they looked +with just such hard blue eyes at their enemies. And +she made that voice speak softly to her, those eyes look +tenderly at her face! He was indeed a man. She +could not understand all he told her of his life, but the +fragments she understood she made up for herself into a +story of a man great amongst his own people, valorous +and unfortunate; an undaunted fugitive dreaming of +vengeance against his enemies. He had all the at- +tractiveness of the vague and the unknown--of the +unforeseen and of the sudden; of a being strong, danger- +ous, alive, and human, ready to be enslaved. + She felt that he was ready. She felt it with the +unerring intuition of a primitive woman confronted by +a simple impulse. Day after day, when they met and +she stood a little way off, listening to his words, holding +him with her look, the undefined terror of the new con- +quest became faint and blurred like the memory of a +dream, and the certitude grew distinct, and convincing, +and visible to the eyes like some material thing in full +sunlight. It was a deep joy, a great pride, a tangible + +76 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +sweetness that seemed to leave the taste of honey on her +lips. He lay stretched at her feet without moving, for +he knew from experience how a slight movement of his +could frighten her away in those first days of their inter- +course. He lay very quiet, with all the ardour of his +desire ringing in his voice and shining in his eyes, whilst +his body was still, like death itself. And he looked at +her, standing above him, her head lost in the shadow of +broad and graceful leaves that touched her cheek; while +the slender spikes of pale green orchids streamed down +from amongst the boughs and mingled with the black +hair that framed her face, as if all those plants claimed +her for their own--the animated and brilliant flower of +all that exuberant life which, born in gloom, struggles +for ever towards the sunshine. + Every day she came a little nearer. He watched her +slow progress--the gradual taming of that woman by +the words of his love. It was the monotonous song of +praise and desire that, commencing at creation, wraps +up the world like an atmosphere and shall end only in +the end of all things--when there are no lips to sing and +no ears to hear. He told her that she was beautiful +and desirable, and he repeated it again and again; for +when he told her that, he had said all there was within +him--he had expressed his only thought, his only feel- +ing. And he watched the startled look of wonder and +mistrust vanish from her face with the passing days, +her eyes soften, the smile dwell longer and longer on her +lips; a smile as of one charmed by a delightful dream; +with the slight exaltation of intoxicating triumph lurk- +tng in its dawning tenderness. + And while she was near there was nothing in the +whole world--for that idle man--but her look and her +smile. Nothing in the past, nothing in the future; +and in the present only the luminous fact of her exis- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 77 + +tence. But in the sudden darkness of her going he +would be left weak and helpless, as though despoiled +violently of all that was himself. He who had lived +all his life with no preoccupation but that of his own +career, contemptuously indifferent to all feminine in- +fluence, full of scorn for men that would submit to it, +if ever so little; he, so strong, so superior even in his +errors, realized at last that his very individuality was +snatched from within himself by the hand of a woman. +Where was the assurance and pride of his cleverness; +the belief in success, the anger of failure, the wish to +retrieve his fortune, the certitude of his ability to +accomplish it yet? Gone. All gone. All that had +been a man within him was gone, and there remained +only the trouble of his heart--that heart which had +become a contemptible thing; which could be fluttered +by a look or a smile, tormented by a word, soothed by +a promise. + When the longed-for day came at last, when she +sank on the grass by his side and with a quick gesture +took his hand in hers, he sat up suddenly with the +movement and look of a man awakened by the crash +of his own falling house. All his blood, all his sensa- +tion, all his life seemed to rush into that hand leaving +him without strength, in a cold shiver, in the sudden +clamminess and collapse as of a deadly gun-shot wound. +He flung her hand away brutally, like something +burning, and sat motionless, his head fallen forward, +staring on the ground and catching his breath in +painful gasps. His impulse of fear and apparent horror +did not dismay her in the least. Her face was grave +and her eyes looked seriously at him. Her fingers +touched the hair of his temple, ran in a light caress +down his cheek, twisted gently the end of his long +moustache: and while he sat in the tremor of that + +78 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +contact she ran off with startling fleetness and dis- +appeared in a peal of clear laughter, in the stir of grass, +in the nod of young twigs growing over the path; leav- +ing behind only a vanishing trail of motion and sound. + He scrambled to his feet slowly and painfully, like +a man with a burden on his shoulders, and walked +towards the riverside. He hugged to his breast the +recollection of his fear and of his delight, but told +himself seriously over and over again that this must +be the end of that adventure. After shoving off his +canoe into the stream he lifted his eyes to the bank +and gazed at it long and steadily, as if taking his last +look at a place of charming memories. He marched +up to Almayer's house with the concentrated expres- +sion and the determined step of a man who had just +taken a momentous resolution. His face was set and +rigid, his gestures and movements were guarded and +slow. He was keeping a tight hand on himself. A +very tight hand. He had a vivid illusion--as vivid as +reality almost--of being in charge of a slippery prisoner. +He sat opposite Almayer during that dinner--which +was their last meal together--with a perfectly calm face +and within him a growing terror of escape from his own +self. Now and then he would grasp the edge of the +table and set his teeth hard in a sudden wave of acute +despair, like one who, falling down a smooth and rapid +declivity that ends in a precipice, digs his finger nails +into the yielding surface and feels himself slipping +helplessly to inevitable destruction. + Then, abruptly, came a relaxation of his muscles, +the giving way of his will. Something seemed to +snap in his head, and that wish, that idea kept back +during all those hours, darted into his brain with the +heat and noise of a conflagration. He must see her! +See her at once! Go now! To-night! He had the + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 79 + +raging regret of the lost hour, of every passing moment. +There was no thought of resistance now. Yet with +the instinctive fear of the irrevocable, with the innate +falseness of the human heart, he wanted to keep open +the way of retreat. He had never absented himself +during the night. What did Almayer know? What +would Almayer think? Better ask him for the gun. +A moonlight night. . . . Look for deer. . . . A +colourable pretext. He would lie to Almayer. What did +it matter! He lied to himself every minute of his life. +And for what? For a woman. And such. . . . + Almayer's answer showed him that deception was +useless. Everything gets to be known, even in this +place. Well, he did not care. Cared for nothing but +for the lost seconds. What if he should suddenly die. +Die before he saw her. Before he could . . . + As, with the sound of Almayer's laughter in his +ears, he urged his canoe in a slanting course across the +rapid current, he tried to tell himself that he could +return at any moment. He would just go and look at +the place where they used to meet, at the tree under +which he lay when she took his hand, at the spot +where she sat by his side. Just go there and then +return--nothing more; but when his little skiff touched +the bank he leaped out, forgetting the painter, and the +canoe hung for a moment amongst the bushes and then +swung out of sight before he had time to dash into the +water and secure it. He was thunderstruck at first. +Now he could not go back unless he called up the Rajah's +people to get a boat and rowers--and the way to Pata- +lolo's campong led past Aissa's house! + He went up the path with the eager eyes and reluctant +steps of a man pursuing a phantom, and when he found +himself at a place where a narrow track branched off +to the left towards Omar's clearing he stood still, with a + +80 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +look of strained attention on his face as if listening to a +far-off voice--the voice of his fate. It was a sound +inarticulate but full of meaning; and following it there +came a rending and tearing within his breast. He +twisted his fingers together, and the joints of his hands +and arms cracked. On his forehead the perspiration +stood out in small pearly drops. He looked round +wildly. Above the shapeless darkness of the forest +undergrowth rose the treetops with their high boughs +and leaves standing out black on the pale sky--like +fragments of night floating on moonbeams. Under his +feet warm steam rose from the heated earth. Round +him there was a great silence. + He was looking round for help. This silence, this +immobility of his surroundings seemed to him a cold +rebuke, a stern refusal, a cruel unconcern. There +was no safety outside of himself--and in himself there +was no refuge; there was only the image of that woman. +He had a sudden moment of lucidity--of that cruel +lucidity that comes once in life to the most benighted. +He seemed to see what went on within him, and was +horrified at the strange sight. He, a white man whose +worst fault till then had been a little want of judgment +and too much confidence in the rectitude of his kind! +That woman was a complete savage, and . . . He +tried to tell himself that the thing was of no consequence. +It was a vain effort. The novelty of the sensations he +had never experienced before in the slightest degree, yet +had despised on hearsay from his safe position of a +civilized man, destroyed his courage. He was dis- +appointed with himself. He seemed to be surrendering +to a wild creature the unstained purity of his life, of +his race, of his civilization. He had a notion of being +lost amongst shapeless things that were dangerous and +ghastly. He struggled with the sense of certain defeat + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 81 + +--lost his footing--fell back into the darkness. With a +faint cry and an upward throw of his arms he gave up as +a tired swimmer gives up: because the swamped craft +is gone from under his feet; because the night is dark +and the shore is far--because death is better than strife. + +[page intentionally blank] + + PART II + +[page intentionally blank] + + + CHAPTER ONE + + THE light and heat fell upon the settlement, the +clearings, and the river as if flung down by an angry +hand. The land lay silent, still, and brilliant under +the avalanche of burning rays that had destroyed all +sound and all motion, had buried all shadows, had +choked every breath. No living thing dared to affront +the serenity of this cloudless sky, dared to revolt +against the oppression of this glorious and cruel sun- +shine. Strength and resolution, body and mind alike +were helpless, and tried to hide before the rush of the +fire from heaven. Only the frail butterflies, the fear- +less children of the sun, the capricious tyrants of the +flowers, fluttered audaciously in the open, and their +minute shadows hovered in swarms over the drooping +blossoms, ran lightly on the withering grass, or glided +on tbe dry and cracked earth. No voice was heard in +this hot noontide but the faint murmur of the river that +hurried on in swirls and eddies, its sparkling wavelets +chasing each other in their joyous course to the shel- +tering depths, to the cool refuge of the sea. + Almayer had dismissed his workmen for the midday +rest, and, his little daughter on his shoulder, ran +quickly across the courtyard, making for the shade of +the verandah of his house. He laid the sleepy child +on the seat of the big rocking-chair, on a pillow which +he took out of his own hammock, and stood for a while +looking down at her with tender and pensive eyes. +The child, tired and hot, moved uneasily, sighed, and +looked up at him with the veiled look of sleepy fatigue. + +85 + + +86 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +He picked up from the floor a broken palm-leaf fan, +and began fanning gently the flushed little face. Her +eyelids fluttered and Almayer smiled. A responsive +smile brightened for a second her heavy eyes, broke +with a dimple the soft outline of her cheek; then the +eyelids dropped suddenly, she drew a long breath +through the parted lips--and was in a deep sleep before +the fleeting smile could vanish from her face. + Almayer moved lightly off, took one of the wooden +armchairs, and placing it close to the balustrade of the +verandah sat down with a sigh of relief. He spread +his elbows on the top rail and resting his chin on his +clasped hands looked absently at the river, at the dance +of sunlight on the flowing water. Gradually the forest +of the further bank became smaller, as if sinking below +the level of the river. The outlines wavered, grew +thin, dissolved in the air. Before his eyes there was +now only a space of undulating blue--one big, empty +sky growing dark at times. . . . Where was the +sunshine? . . . He felt soothed and happy, as if +some gentle and invisible hand had removed from his +soul the burden of his body. In another second he +seemed to float out into a cool brightness where there +was no such thing as memory or pain. Delicious. His +eyes closed--opened--closed again. + "Almayer!" + With a sudden jerk of his whole body he sat up, +grasping the front rail with both his hands, and blinked +stupidly. + "What? What's that?" he muttered, looking round +vaguely. + "Here! Down here, Almayer." + Half rising in his chair, Almayer looked over the +rail at the foot of the verandah, and fell back with a +low whistle of astonishment. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 87 + + "A ghost, by heavens!" he exclaimed softly to him- +self. + "Will you listen to me?" went on the husky voice +from the courtyard. "May I come up, Almayer?" + Almayer stood up and leaned over the rail. + "Don't you dare," he said, in a voice subdued but +distinct. "Don't you dare! The child sleeps here. +And I don't want to hear you--or speak to you either." + "You must listen to me! It's something important." + "Not to me, surely." + "Yes! To you. Very important." + "You were always a humbug," said Almayer, after +a short silence, in an indulgent tone. "Always! I +remember the old days. Some fellows used to say +there was no one like you for smartness--but you never +took me in. Not quite. I never quite believed in you, +Mr. Willems." + "I admit your superior intelligence," retorted Wil- +lems, with scornful impatience, from below. "Listen- +ing to me would be a further proof of it. You will be +sorry if you don't." + "Oh, you funny fellow!" said Almayer, banteringly. +"Well, come up. Don't make a noise, but come up. +You'll catch a sunstroke down there and die on my +doorstep perhaps. I don't want any tragedy here. +Come on!" + Before he finished speaking Willems' head appeared +above the level of the floor, then his shoulders rose +gradually and he stood at last before Almayer--a +masquerading spectre of the once so very confidential +clerk of the richest merchant in the islands. His +jacket was soiled and torn; below the waist he was +clothed in a worn-out and faded sarong. He flung off +his hat, uncovering his long, tangled hair that stuck +in wisps on his perspiring forehead and straggled over + + +88 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +his eyes, which glittered deep down in the sockets +like the last sparks amongst the black embers of a +burnt-out fire. An unclean beard grew out of the +caverns of his sunburnt cheeks. The hand he put +out towards Almayer was very unsteady. The once +firm mouth had the tell-tale droop of mental suffer- +ing and physical exhaustion. He was barefooted. +Almayer surveyed him with leisurely composure. + "Well!" he said at last, without taking the extended +hand which dropped slowly along Willems' body. + "I am come," began Willems. + "So I see," interrupted Almayer. "You might +have spared me this treat without making me unhappy. +You have been away five weeks, if I am not mistaken. +I got on very well without you--and now you are here +you are not pretty to look at." + "Let me speak, will you!" exclaimed Willems. + "Don't shout like this. Do you think yourself in the +forest with your . . . your friends? This is a civil- +ized man's house. A white man's. Understand?" + "I am come," began Willems again; "I am come +for your good and mine." + "You look as if you had come for a good feed," +chimed in the irrepressible Almayer, while Willems +waved his hand in a discouraged gesture. "Don't +they give you enough to eat," went on Almayer, in +a tone of easy banter, "those--what am I to call them +--those new relations of yours? That old blind scoun- +drel must be delighted with your company. You know, +he was the greatest thief and murderer of those seas. +Say! do you exchange confidences? Tell me, Willems, +did you kill somebody in Macassar or did you only steal +something?" + "It is not true!" exclaimed Willems, hotly. "I +only borrowed. . . . They all lied! I . . ." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 89 + + "Sh-sh!" hissed Almayer, warningly, with a look +at the sleeping child. "So you did steal," he went on, +with repressed exultation. "I thought there was +something of the kind. And now, here, you steal +again." + For the first time Willems raised his eyes to Almayer's +face. + "Oh, I don't mean from me. I haven't missed any- +thing," said Almayer, with mocking haste. "But that +girl. Hey! You stole her. You did not pay the old +fellow. She is no good to him now, is she?" + "Stop that. Almayer!" + Something in Willems' tone caused Almayer to +pause. He looked narrowly at the man before him, +and could not help being shocked at his appearance. + "Almayer," went on Willems, "listen to me. If +you are a human being you will. I suffer horribly-- +and for your sake." + Almayer lifted his eyebrows. "Indeed! How? But +you are raving," he added, negligently. + "Ah! You don't know," whispered Willems. "She +is gone. Gone," he repeated, with tears in his voice, +"gone two days ago." + "No!" exclaimed the surprised Almayer. "Gone! +I haven't heard that news yet." He burst into a sub- +dued laugh. "How funny! Had enough of you +already? You know it's not flattering for you, my +superior countryman." + Willems--as if not hearing him--leaned against +one of the columns of the roof and looked over the +river. "At first," he whispered, dreamily, "my life +was like a vision of heaven--or hell; I didn't know +which. Since she went I know what perdition means; +what darkness is. I know what it is to be torn to +pieces alive. That's how I feel." + + +90 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "You may come and live with me again," said +Almayer, coldly. "After all, Lingard--whom I call +my father and respect as such--left you under my +care. You pleased yourself by going away. Very +good. Now you want to come back. Be it so. I +am no friend of yours. I act for Captain Lingard." + "Come back?" repeated Willems, passionately. +"Come back to you and abandon her? Do you think +I am mad? Without her! Man! what are you +made of? To think that she moves, lives, breathes out +of my sight. I am jealous of the wind that fans her, of +the air she breathes, of the earth that receives the caress +of her foot, of the sun that looks at her now while I +. . . I haven't seen her for two days--two days." + The intensity of Willems' feeling moved Almayer +somewhat, but he affected to yawn elaborately + "You do bore me," he muttered. "Why don't you +go after her instead of coming here?" + "Why indeed?" + "Don't you know where she is? She can't be very +far. No native craft has left this river for the last +fortnight." + "No! not very far--and I will tell you where she is. +She is in Lakamba's campong." And Willems fixed +his eyes steadily on Almayer's face. + "Phew! Patalolo never sent to let me know. +Strange," said Almayer, thoughtfully. "Are you +afraid of that lot?" he added, after a short pause. + "I--afraid!" + "Then is it the care of your dignity which pre- +vents you from following her there, my high-minded +friend?" asked Almayer, with mock solicitude. "How +noble of you!" + There was a short silence; then Willems said, quietly, +"You are a fool. I should like to kick you." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 91 + + "No fear," answered Almayer, carelessly; "you are +too weak for that. You look starved." + "I don't think I have eaten anything for the last +two days; perhaps more--I don't remember. It does +not matter. I am full of live embers," said Willems, +gloomily. "Look!" and he bared an arm covered +with fresh scars. "I have been biting myself to forget +in that pain the fire that hurts me there!" He struck +his breast violently with his fist, reeled under his own +blow, fell into a chair that stood near and closed his +eyes slowly. + "Disgusting exhibition," said Almayer, loftily. +"What could father ever see in you? You are as +estimable as a heap of garbage." + "You talk like that! You, who sold your soul for +a few guilders," muttered Willems, wearily, without +opening his eyes. + "Not so few," said Almayer, with instinctive readi- +ness, and stopped confused for a moment. He re- +covered himself quickly, however, and went on: "But +you--you have thrown yours away for nothing; flung +it under the feet of a damned savage woman who has +made you already the thing you are, and will kill you +very soon, one way or another, with her love or with +her hate. You spoke just now about guilders. You +meant Lingard's money, I suppose. Well, whatever +I have sold, and for whatever price, I never meant you +--you of all people--to spoil my bargain. I feel pretty +safe though. Even father, even Captain Lingard, +would not touch you now with a pair of tongs; not with +a ten-foot pole. . . ." + He spoke excitedly, all in one breath, and, ceasing +suddenly, glared at Willems and breathed hard through +his nose in sulky resentment. Willems looked at him +steadily for a moment, then got up. + + +92 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Almayer," he said resolutely, "I want to become a +trader in this place." + Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + "Yes. And you shall set me up. I want a house and +trade goods--perhaps a little money. I ask you for it." + "Anything else you want? Perhaps this coat?" +and here Almayer unbuttoned his jacket--"or my house +--or my boots?" + "After all it's natural," went on Willems, without +paying any attention to Almayer--"it's natural that +she should expect the advantages which . . . and +then I could shut up that old wretch and then . . ." + He paused, his face brightened with the soft light +of dreamy enthusiasm, and he turned his eyes upwards. +With his gaunt figure and dilapidated appearance he +looked like some ascetic dweller in a wilderness, finding +the reward of a self-denying life in a vision of dazzling +glory. He went on in an impassioned murmur-- + "And then I would have her all to myself away +from her people--all to myself--under my own influence +--to fashion--to mould--to adore--to soften--to . . . +Oh! Delight! And then--then go away to some +distant place where, far from all she knew, I would be +all the world to her! All the world to her!" + His face changed suddenly. His eyes wandered for +awhile and then became steady all at once. + "I would repay every cent, of course," he said, in a +business-like tone, with something of his old assurance, +of his old belief in himself, in it. "Every cent. I +need not interfere with your business. I shall cut out +the small native traders. I have ideas--but never +mind that now. And Captain Lingard would approve, +I feel sure. After all it's a loan, and I shall be at hand. +Safe thing for you." + "Ah! Captain Lingard would approve! He would + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 93 + +app . . ." Almayer choked. The notion of Lin- +gard doing something for Willems enraged him. His +face was purple. He spluttered insulting words. Wil- +lems looked at him coolly. + "I assure you, Almayer," he said, gently, "that I +have good grounds for my demand." + "Your cursed impudence!" + "Believe me, Almayer, your position here is not so +safe as you may think. An unscrupulous rival here +would destroy your trade in a year. It would be ruin. +Now Lingard's long absence gives courage to certain +individuals. You know?--I have heard much lately. +They made proposals to me . . . You are very +much alone here. Even Patalolo . . ." + "Damn Patalolo! I am master in this place." + "But, Almayer, don't you see . . ." + "Yes, I see. I see a mysterious ass," interrupted +Almayer, violently. "What is the meaning of your +veiled threats? Don't you think I know something +also? They have been intriguing for years--and +nothing has happened. The Arabs have been hanging +about outside this river for years--and I am still the +only trader here; the master here. Do you bring me a +declaration of war? Then it's from yourself only. I +know all my other enemies. I ought to knock you on +the head. You are not worth powder and shot though. +You ought to be destroyed with a stick--like a snake." + Almayer's voice woke up the little girl, who sat up +on the pillow with a sharp cry. He rushed over to +the chair, caught up the child in his arms, walked back +blindly, stumbled against Willems' hat which lay on +the floor, and kicked it furiously down the steps. + "Clear out of this! Clear out!" he shouted. + Willems made an attempt to speak, but Almayer +howled him down. + + +94 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Take yourself off! Don't you see you frighten the +child--you scarecrow! No, no! dear," he went on to +his little daughter, soothingly, while Willems walked +down the steps slowly. "No. Don't cry. See! Bad +man going away. Look! He is afraid of your papa. +Nasty, bad man. Never come back again. He shall +live in the woods and never come near my little girl. +If he comes papa will kill him--so!" He struck his +fist on the rail of the balustrade to show how he would +kill Willems, and, perching the consoled child on his +shoulder held her with one hand, while he pointed +toward the retreating figure of his visitor. + "Look how he runs away, dearest," he said, coax- +ingly. "Isn't he funny. Call 'pig' after him, dearest. +Call after him." + The seriousness of her face vanished into dimples. +Under the long eyelashes, glistening with recent tears, +her big eyes sparkled and danced with fun. She took +firm hold of Almayer's hair with one hand, while she +waved the other joyously and called out with all her +might, in a clear note, soft and distinct like the pipe +of a bird:-- + "Pig! Pig! Pig!" + + + + CHAPTER TWO + + A SIGH under the flaming blue, a shiver of the sleeping +sea, a cool breath as if a door had been swung upon +the frozen spaces of the universe, and with a stir of +leaves, with the nod of boughs, with the tremble of +slender branches the sea breeze struck the coast, rushed +up the river, swept round the broad reaches, and +travelled on in a soft ripple of darkening water, in +the whisper of branches, in the rustle of leaves of the +awakened forests. It fanned in Lakamba's campong +the dull red of expiring embers into a pale brilliance; +and, under its touch, the slender, upright spirals of +smoke that rose from every glowing heap swayed, +wavered, and eddying down filled the twilight of +clustered shade trees with the aromatic scent of the +burning wood. The men who had been dozing in +the shade during the hot hours of the afternoon woke +up, and the silence of the big courtyard was broken +by the hesitating murmur of yet sleepy voices, by +coughs and yawns, with now and then a burst of laugh- +ter, a loud hail, a name or a joke sent out in a soft +drawl. Small groups squatted round the little fires, +and the monotonous undertone of talk filled the en- +closure; the talk of barbarians, persistent, steady, +repeating itself in the soft syllables, in musical tones +of the never-ending discourses of those men of the +forests and the sea, who can talk most of the day and +all the night; who never exhaust a subject, never +seem able to thresh a matter out; to whom that talk +is poetry and painting and music, all art, all history; + + +95 + + +96 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +their only accomplishment, their only superiority, their +only amusement. The talk of camp fires, which speaks +of bravery and cunning, of strange events and of far +countries, of the news of yesterday and the news of +to-morrow. The talk about the dead and the living-- +about those who fought and those who loved. + Lakamba came out on the platform before his own +house and sat down--perspiring, half asleep, and sulky +--in a wooden armchair under the shade of the over- +hanging eaves. Through the darkness of the doorway +he could hear the soft warbling of his womenkind, busy +round the looms where they were weaving the checkered +pattern of his gala sarongs. Right and left of him on +the flexible bamboo floor those of his followers to whom +their distinguished birth, long devotion, or faithful +service had given the privilege of using the chief's +house, were sleeping on mats or just sat up rubbing +their eyes: while the more wakeful had mustered enough +energy to draw a chessboard with red clay on a fine +mat and were now meditating silently over their moves. +Above the prostrate forms of the players, who lay face +downward supported on elbow, the soles of their feet +waving irresolutely about, in the absorbed meditation +of the game, there towered here and there the straight +figure of an attentive spectator looking down with +dispassionate but profound interest. On the edge of +the platform a row of high-heeled leather sandals stood +ranged carefully in a level line, and against the rough +wooden rail leaned the slender shafts of the spears +belonging to these gentlemen, the broad blades of +dulled steel looking very black in the reddening light +of approaching sunset. + A boy of about twelve--the personal attendant of +Lakamba--squatted at his master's feet and held up +towards him a silver siri box. Slowly Lakamba took + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 97 + +the box, opened it, and tearing off a piece of green +leaf deposited in it a pinch of lime, a morsel of gambier, +a small bit of areca nut, and wrapped up the whole +with a dexterous twist. He paused, morsel in hand, +seemed to miss something, turned his head from side to +side, slowly, like a man with a stiff neck, and ejacu- +lated in an ill-humoured bass-- + "Babalatchi!" + The players glanced up quickly, and looked down +again directly. Those men who were standing stirred +uneasily as if prodded by the sound of the chief's voice. +The one nearest to Lakamba repeated the call, after a +while, over the rail into the courtyard. There was a +movement of upturned faces below by the fires, and +the cry trailed over the enclosure in sing-song tones. +The thumping of wooden pestles husking the evening +rice stopped for a moment and Babalatchi's name rang +afresh shrilly on women's lips in various keys. A +voice far off shouted something--another, nearer, +repeated it; there was a short hubbub which died out +with extreme suddenness. The first crier turned to +Lakamba, saying indolently-- + "He is with the blind Omar." + Lakamba's lips moved inaudibly. The man who +had just spoken was again deeply absorbed in the +game going on at his feet; and the chief--as if he had +forgotten all about it already--sat with a stolid face +amongst his silent followers, leaning back squarely in +his chair, his hands on the arms of his seat, his knees +apart, his big blood-shot eyes blinking solemnly, as if +dazzled by the noble vacuity of his thoughts. + Babalatchi had gone to see old Omar late in the +afternoon. The delicate manipulation of the ancient +pirate's susceptibilities, the skilful management of +Aissa's violent impulses engrossed him to the exclusion + + +98 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +of every other business--interfered with his regular +attendance upon his chief and protector--even dis- +turbed his sleep for the last three nights. That day +when he left his own bamboo hut--which stood amongst +others in Lakamba's campong--his heart was heavy +with anxiety and with doubt as to the success of his +intrigue. He walked slowly, with his usual air of +detachment from his surroundings, as if unaware +that many sleepy eyes watched from all parts of the +courtyard his progress towards a small gate at its upper +end. That gate gave access to a separate enclosure +in which a rather large house, built of planks, had +been prepared by Lakamba's orders for the reception +of Omar and Aissa. It was a superior kind of habita- +tion which Lakamba intended for the dwelling of his +chief adviser--whose abilities were worth that honour, +he thought. But after the consultation in the deserted +clearing--when Babalatchi had disclosed his plan-- +they both had agreed that the new house should be +used at first to shelter Omar and Aissa after they had +been persuaded to leave the Rajah's place, or had been +kidnapped from there--as the case might be. Babalat- +chi did not mind in the least the putting off of his own +occupation of the house of honour, because it had many +advantages for the quiet working out of his plans. It +had a certain seclusion, having an enclosure of its own, +and that enclosure communicated also with Lakamba's +private courtyard at the back of his residence--a place +set apart for the female household of the chief. The +only communication with the river was through the +great front courtyard always full of armed men and +watchful eyes. Behind the whole group of buildings +there stretched the level ground of rice-clearings, which +in their turn were closed in by the wall of untouched +forests with undergrowth so thick and tangled that + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 99 + +nothing but a bullet--and that fired at pretty close +range--could penetrate any distance there. + Babalatchi slipped quietly through the little gate +and, closing it, tied up carefully the rattan fastenings. +Before the house there was a square space of ground, +beaten hard into the level smoothness of asphalte. +A big buttressed tree, a giant left there on purpose +during the process of clearing the land, roofed in the +clear space with a high canopy of gnarled boughs and +thick, sombre leaves. To the right--and some small +distance away from the large house--a little hut of +reeds, covered with mats, had been put up for the special +convenience of Omar, who, being blind and infirm, +had some difficulty in ascending the steep plankway +that led to the more substantial dwelling, which was +built on low posts and had an uncovered verandah. +Close by the trunk of the tree, and facing the doorway +of the hut, the household fire glowed in a small handful +of embers in the midst of a large circle of white ashes. +An old woman--some humble relation of one of La- +kamba's wives, who had been ordered to attend on +Aissa--was squatting over the fire and lifted up her +bleared eyes to gaze at Babalatchi in an uninterested +manner, as he advanced rapidly across the courtyard. + Babalatchi took in the courtyard with a keen glance +of his solitary eye, and without looking down at the +old woman muttered a question. Silently, the woman +stretched a tremulous and emaciated arm towards the +hut. Babalatchi made a few steps towards the door- +way, but stopped outside in the sunlight. + "O! Tuan Omar, Omar besar! It is I--Baba- +latchi!" + Within the hut there was a feeble groan, a fit of +coughing and an indistinct murmur in the broken +tones of a vague plaint. Encouraged evidently by those + + +100 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +signs of dismal life within, Babalatchi entered the hut, +and after some time came out leading with rigid care- +fulness the blind Omar, who followed with both his +hands on his guide's shoulders. There was a rude +seat under the tree, and there Babalatchi led his old +chief, who sat down with a sigh of relief and leaned +wearily against the rugged trunk. The rays of the +setting sun, darting under the spreading branches, +rested on the white-robed figure sitting with head +thrown back in stiff dignity, on the thin hands moving +uneasily, and on the stolid face with its eyelids dropped +over the destroyed eyeballs; a face set into the immo- +bility of a plaster cast yellowed by age. + "Is the sun near its setting?" asked Omar, in a dull +voice. + "Very near," answered Babalatchi. + "Where am I? Why have I been taken away from +the place which I knew--where I, blind, could move +without fear? It is like black night to those who see. +And the sun is near its setting--and I have not heard +the sound of her footsteps since the morning! Twice +a strange hand has given me my food to-day. Why? +Why? Where is she?" + "She is near," said Babalatchi. + "And he?" went on Omar, with sudden eagerness, +and a drop in his voice. "Where is he? Not here. +Not here!" he repeated, turning his head from side to +side as if in deliberate attempt to see. + "No! He is not here now," said Babalatchi, sooth- +ingly. Then, after a pause, he added very low, "But +he shall soon return." + "Return! O crafty one! Will he return? I have +cursed him three times," exclaimed Omar, with weak +violence. + "He is--no doubt--accursed," assented Babalatchi, + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 101 + +in a conciliating manner--"and yet he will be here +before very long--I know!" + "You are crafty and faithless. I have made you +great. You were dirt under my feet--less than dirt," +said Omar, with tremulous energy. + "I have fought by your side many times," said +Babalatchi, calmly. + "Why did he come?" went on Omar. "Did you +send him? Why did he come to defile the air I breathe +--to mock at my fate--to poison her mind and steal +her body? She has grown hard of heart to me. Hard +and merciless and stealthy like rocks that tear a ship's +life out under the smooth sea." He drew a long breath, +struggled with his anger, then broke down suddenly. +"I have been hungry," he continued, in a whimpering +tone--"often I have been very hungry--and cold-- +and neglected--and nobody near me. She has often +forgotten me--and my sons are dead, and that man is an +infidel and a dog. Why did he come? Did you show +him the way?" + "He found the way himself, O Leader of the +brave," said Babalatchi, sadly. "I only saw a way +for their destruction and our own greatness. And if +I saw aright, then you shall never suffer from hunger +any more. There shall be peace for us, and glory and +riches." + "And I shall die to-morrow," murmured Omar, +bitterly. + "Who knows? Those things have been written since +the beginning of the world," whispered Babalatchi, +thoughtfully. + "Do not let him come back," exclaimed Omar. + "Neither can he escape his fate," went on Baba- +latchi. "He shall come back, and the power of men +we always hated, you and I, shall crumble into dust + + +102 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +in our hand." Then he added with enthusiasm, "They +shall fight amongst themselves and perish both." + "And you shall see all this, while, I . . ." + "True!" murmured Babalatchi, regretfully. "To +you life is darkness." + "No! Flame!" exclaimed the old Arab, half rising, +then falling back in his seat. "The flame of that last +day! I see it yet--the last thing I saw! And I hear +the noise of the rent earth--when they all died. And I +live to be the plaything of a crafty one," he added, with +inconsequential peevishness. + "You are my master still," said Babalatchi, humbly. +"You are very wise--and in your wisdom you shall +speak to Syed Abdulla when he comes here--you shall +speak to him as I advised, I, your servant, the man +who fought at your right hand for many years. I +have heard by a messenger that the Syed Abdulla +is coming to-night, perhaps late; for those things must +be done secretly, lest the white man, the trader up +the river, should know of them. But he will be here. +There has been a surat delivered to Lakamba. In it, +Syed Abdulla says he will leave his ship, which is +anchored outside the river, at the hour of noon to-day. +He will be here before daylight if Allah wills." + He spoke with his eye fixed on the ground, and did +not become aware of Aissa's presence till he lifted his +head when he ceased speaking. She had approached +so quietly that even Omar did not hear her footsteps, +and she stood now looking at them with troubled +eyes and parted lips, as if she was going to speak; but +at Babalatchi's entreating gesture she remained silent. +Omar sat absorbed in thought. + "Ay wa! Even so!" he said at last, in a weak voice. +"I am to speak your wisdom, O Babalatchi! Tell him +to trust the white man! I do not understand. I am + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 103 + +old and blind and weak. I do not understand. I am +very cold," he continued, in a lower tone, moving his +shoulders uneasily. He ceased, then went on rambling +in a faint whisper. "They are the sons of witches, +and their father is Satan the stoned. Sons of witches. +Sons of witches." After a short silence he asked sud- +denly, in a firmer voice--"How many white men are +there here, O crafty one?" + "There are two here. Two white men to fight one +another," answered Babalatchi, with alacrity. + "And how many will be left then? How many? +Tell me, you who are wise." + "The downfall of an enemy is the consolation of the +unfortunate," said Babalatchi, sententiously. "They +are on every sea; only the wisdom of the Most High +knows their number--but you shall know that some of +them suffer." + "Tell me, Babalatchi, will they die? Will they both +die?" asked Omar, in sudden agitation. + Aissa made a movement. Babalatchi held up a +warning hand. + "They shall, surely, die," he said steadily, looking +at the girl with unflinching eye. + "Ay wa! But die soon! So that I can pass my hand +over their faces when Allah has made them stiff." + "If such is their fate and yours," answered Baba- +latchi, without hesitation. "God is great!" + A violent fit of coughing doubled Omar up, and he +rocked himself to and fro, vvheezing and moaning in turns, +while Babalatchi and the girl looked at him in silence. +Then he leaned back against the tree, exhausted. + "I am alone, I am alone," he wailed feebly, groping +vaguely about with his trembling hands. "Is there +anybody near me? Is there anybody? I am afraid of +this strange place." + + +104 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "I am by your side, O Leader of the brave," said +Babalatchi, touching his shoulder lightly. "Always +by your side as in the days when we both were young: +as in the time when we both went with arms in our +hands." + "Has there been such a time, Babalatchi?" said +Omar, wildly; "I have forgotten. And now when I +die there will be no man, no fearless man to speak +of his father's bravery. There was a woman! A +woman! And she has forsaken me for an infidel dog. +The hand of the Compassionate is heavy on my head! +Oh, my calamity! Oh, my shame!" + He calmed down after a while, and asked quietly-- +"Is the sun set, Babalatchi?" + "It is now as low as the highest tree I can see from +here," answered Babalatchi. + "It is the time of prayer," said Omar, attempting +to get up. + Dutifully Babalatchi helped his old chief to rise, and +they walked slowly towards the hut. Omar waited +outside, while Babalatchi went in and came out directly, +dragging after him the old Arab's praying carpet. +Out of a brass vessel he poured the water of ablution +on Omar's outstretched hands, and eased him carefully +down into a kneeling posture, for the venerable robber +was far too infirm to be able to stand. Then as Omar +droned out the first words and made his first bow +towards the Holy City, Babalatchi stepped noiselessly +towards Aissa, who did not move all the time. + Aissa looked steadily at the one-eyed sage, who was +approaching her slowly and with a great show of defer- +ence. For a moment they stood facing each other in +silence. Babalatchi appeared embarrassed. With a +sudden and quick gesture she caught hold of his arm, +and with the other hand pointed towards the sinking + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 105 + +red disc that glowed, rayless, through the floating mists +of the evening. + "The third sunset! The last! And he is not here," +she whispered; "what have you done, man without +faith? What have you done?" + "Indeed I have kept my word," murmured Baba- +latchi, earnestly. "This morning Bulangi went with +a canoe to look for him. He is a strange man, but our +friend, and shall keep close to him and watch him +without ostentation. And at the third hour of the +day I have sent another canoe with four rowers. In- +deed, the man you long for, O daughter of Omar! +may come when he likes." + "But he is not here! I waited for him yesterday. +To-day! To-morrow I shall go." + "Not alive!" muttered Babalatchi to himself. +"And do you doubt your power," he went on in a +louder tone--"you that to him are more beautiful +than an houri of the seventh Heaven? He is your slave." + "A slave does run away sometimes," she said, gloom- +ily, "and then the master must go and seek him +out." + "And do you want to live and die a beggar?" asked +Babalatchi, impatiently. + "I care not," she exclaimed, wringing her hands; +and the black pupils of her wide-open eyes darted +wildly here and there like petrels before the storm. + "Sh! Sh!" hissed Babalatchi, with a glance towards +Omar. "Do you think, O girl! that he himself would +live like a beggar, even with you?" + "He is great," she said, ardently. "He despises you +all! He despises you all! He is indeed a man!" + "You know that best," muttered Babalatchi, with +a fugitive smile--"but remember, woman with the +strong heart, that to hold him now you must be to + + +106 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +him like the great sea to thirsty men--a never-ceasing +torment, and a madness." + He ceased and they stood in silence, both looking on +the ground, and for a time nothing was heard above +the crackling of the fire but the intoning of Omar +glorifying the God--his God, and the Faith--his faith. +Then Babalatchi cocked his head on one side and ap- +peared to listen intently to the hum of voices in the +big courtyard. The dull noise swelled into distinct +shouts, then into a great tumult of voices, dying away, +recommencing, growing louder, to cease again abruptly; +and in those short pauses the shrill vociferations of +women rushed up, as if released, towards the quiet +heaven. Aissa and Babalatchi started, but the latter +gripped in his turn the girl's arm and restrained her +with a strong grasp. + "Wait," he whispered. + The little door in the heavy stockade which sepa- +rated Lakamba's private ground from Omar's enclosure +swung back quickly, and the noble exile appeared with +disturbed mien and a naked short sword in his hand. +His turban was half unrolled, and the end trailed on +the ground behind him. His jacket was open. He +breathed thickly for a moment before he spoke. + "He came in Bulangi's boat," he said, "and walked +quietly till he was in my presence, when the senseless +fury of white men caused him to rush upon me. I +have been in great danger," went on the ambitious +nobleman in an aggrieved tone. "Do you hear that, +Babalatchi? That eater of swine aimed a blow at my +face with his unclean fist. He tried to rush amongst +my household. Six men are holding him now." + A fresh outburst of yells stopped Lakamba's dis- +course. Angry voices shouted: "Hold him. Beat him +down. Strike at his head." Then the clamour ceased + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 107 + +with sudden completeness, as if strangled by a mighty +hand, and after a second of surprising silence the voice +of Willems was heard alone, howling maledictions in +Malay, in Dutch, and in English. + "Listen," said Lakamba, speaking with unsteady +lips, "he blasphemes his God. His speech is like the +raving of a mad dog. Can we hold him for ever? He +must be killed!" + "Fool!" muttered Babalatchi, looking up at Aissa, +who stood with set teeth, with gleaming eyes and +distended nostrils, yet obedient to the touch of his +restraining hand. "It is the third day, and I have +kept my promise," he said to her, speaking very low. +"Remember," he added warningly--"like the sea to +the thirsty! And now," he said aloud, releasing her +and stepping back, "go, fearless daughter, go!" + Like an arrow, rapid and silent she flew down the +enclosure, and disappeared through the gate of the +courtyard. Lakamba and Babalatchi looked after her. +They heard the renewed tumult, the girl's clear voice +calling out, "Let him go!" Then after a pause in +the din no longer than half the human breath the +name of Aissa rang in a shout loud, discordant, and +piercing, which sent through them an involuntary +shudder. Old Omar collapsed on his carpet and +moaned feebly; Lakamba stared with gloomy con- +tempt in the direction of the inhuman sound; but +Babalatchi, forcing a smile, pushed his distinguished +protector through the narrow gate in the stockade, +followed him, and closed it quickly. + The old woman, who had been most of the time +kneeling by the fire, now rose, glanced round fear- +fully and crouched hiding behind the tree. The +gate of the great courtyard flew open with a great +clatter before a frantic kick, and Willems darted in + + +108 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +carrying Aissa in his arms. He rushed up the enclosure +like a tornado, pressing the girl to his breast, her arms +round his neck, her head hanging back over his arm, +her eyes closed and her long hair nearly touching the +ground. They appeared for a second in the glare of +the fire, then, with immense strides, he dashed up the +planks and disappeared with his burden in the doorway +of the big house. + Inside and outside the enclosure there was silence. +Omar lay supporting himself on his elbow, his terrified +face with its closed eyes giving him the appearance of +a man tormented by a nightmare. + "What is it? Help! Help me to rise!" he called +out faintly. + The old hag, still crouching in the shadow, stared +with bleared eyes at the doorway of the big house, and +took no notice of his call. He listened for a while, +then his arm gave way, and, with a deep sigh of dis- +couragement, he let himself fall on the carpet. + The boughs of the tree nodded and trembled in the +unsteady currents of the light wind. A leaf fluttered +down slowly from some high branch and rested on the +ground, immobile, as if resting for ever, in the glow of +the fire; but soon it stirred, then soared suddenly, and +flew, spinning and turning before the breath of the +perfumed breeze, driven helplessly into the dark night +that had closed over the land. + + + + CHAPTER THREE + + FOR upwards of forty years Abdulla had walked in +the way of his Lord. Son of the rich Syed Selim bin +Sali, the great Mohammedan trader of the Straits, he +went forth at the age of seventeen on his first com- +mercial expedition, as his father's representative on +board a pilgrim ship chartered by the wealthy Arab +to convey a crowd of pious Malays to the Holy Shrine. +That was in the days when steam was not in those +seas--or, at least, not so much as now. The voyage +was long, and the young man's eyes were opened to +the wonders of many lands. Allah had made it his +fate to become a pilgrim very early in life. This was +a great favour of Heaven, and it could not have been +bestowed upon a man who prized it more, or who made +himself more worthy of it by the unswerving piety of +his heart and by the religious solemnity of his demean- +our. Later on it became clear that the book of his +destiny contained the programme of a wandering life. +He visited Bombay and Calcutta, looked in at the +Persian Gulf, beheld in due course the high and barren +coasts of the Gulf of Suez, and this was the limit of his +wanderings westward. He was then twenty-seven, +and the writing on his forehead decreed that the time +had come for him to return to the Straits and take from +his dying father's hands the many threads of a business +that was spread over all the Archipelago: from Sumatra +to New Guinea, from Batavia to Palawan. Very soon +his ability, his will--strong to obstinacy--his wisdom +beyond his years, caused him to be recognized as the + +109 + + +110 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +head of a family whose members and connections were +found in every part of those seas. An uncle here--a +brother there; a father-in-law in Batavia, another in +Palembang; husbands of numerous sisters; cousins in- +numerable scattered north, south, east, and west--in +every place where there was trade: the great family lay +like a network over the islands. They lent money to +princes, influenced the council-rooms, faced--if need +be--with peaceful intrepidity the white rulers who +held the land and the sea under the edge of sharp +swords; and they all paid great deference to Abdulla, +listened to his advice, entered into his plans--because +he was wise, pious, and fortunate. + He bore himself with the humility becoming a Be- +liever, who never forgets, even for one moment of +his waking life, that he is the servant of the Most +High. He was largely charitable because the chari- +table man is the friend of Allah, and when he walked +out of his house--built of stone, just outside the town +of Penang--on his way to his godowns in the port, +he had often to snatch his hand away sharply from +under the lips of men of his race and creed; and often +he had to murmur deprecating words, or even to rebuke +with severity those who attempted to touch his knees +with their finger-tips in gratitude or supplication. He +was very handsome, and carried his small head high +with meek gravity. His lofty brow, straight nose, +narrow, dark face with its chiselled delicacy of feature, +gave him an aristocratic appearance which proclaimed +his pure descent. His beard was trimmed close and to +a rounded point. His large brown eyes looked out +steadily with a sweetness that was belied by the expres- +sion of his thin-lipped mouth. His aspect was serene. +He had a belief in his own prosperity which nothing +could shake. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 111 + + Restless, like all his people, he very seldom dwelt for +many days together in his splendid house in Penang. +Owner of ships, he was often on board one or another of +them, traversing in all directions the field of his opera- +tions. In every port he had a household--his own or +that of a relation--to hail his advent with demonstra- +tive joy. In every port there were rich and influential +men eager to see him, there was business to talk over, +there were important letters to read: an immense cor- +respondence, enclosed in silk envelopes--a correspon- +dence which had nothing to do with the infidels of +colonial post-offices, but came into his hands by devious, +yet safe, ways. It was left for him by taciturn nak- +hodas of native trading craft, or was delivered with pro- +found salaams by travel-stained and weary men who +would withdraw from his presence calling upon Allah +to bless the generous giver of splendid rewards. And +the news was always good, and all his attempts always +succeeded, and in his ears there rang always a chorus of +admiration, of gratitude, of humble entreaties. + A fortunate man. And his felicity was so complete +that the good genii, who ordered the stars at his birth, +had not neglected--by a refinement of benevolence +strange in such primitive beings--to provide him with +a desire difficult to attain, and with an enemy hard to +overcome. The envy of Lingard's political and com- +mercial successes, and the wish to get the best of him +in every way, became Abdulla's mania, the paramount +interest of his life, the salt of his existence. + For the last few months he had been receiving mys- +terious messages from Sambir urging him to deci- +sive action. He had found the river a couple of years +ago, and had been anchored more than once off that +estuary where the, till then, rapid Pantai, spreading +slowly over the lowlands, seems to hesitate, before it + + +112 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +flows gently through twenty outlets; over a maze of +mudflats, sandbanks and reefs, into the expectant sea. +He had never attempted the entrance, however, be- +cause men of his race, although brave and adventurous +travellers, lack the true seamanlike instincts, and he +was afraid of getting wrecked. He could not bear the +idea of the Rajah Laut being able to boast that Abdulla +bin Selim, like other and lesser men, had also come to +grief when trying to wrest his secret from him. Mean- +time he returned encouraging answers to his unknown +friends in Sambir, and waited for his opportunity in the +calm certitude of ultimate triumph. + Such was the man whom Lakamba and Babalatchi +expected to see for the first time on the night of Wil- +lems' return to Aissa. Babalatchi, who had been tor- +mented for three days by the fear of having over- +reached himself in his little plot, now, feeling sure of +his white man, felt lighthearted and happy as he super- +intended the preparations in the courtyard for Abdulla's +reception. Half-way between Lakamba's house and +the river a pile of dry wood was made ready for the +torch that would set fire to it at the moment of Abdulla's +landing. Between this and the house again there was, +ranged in a semicircle, a set of low bamboo frames, +and on those were piled all the carpets and cushions of +Lakamba's household. It had been decided that the +reception was to take place in the open air, and that it +should be made impressive by the great number of +Lakamba's retainers, who, clad in clean white, with +their red sarongs gathered round their waists, chopper +at side and lance in hand, were moving about the com- +pound or, gathering into small knots, discussed eagerly +the coming ceremony. + Two little fires burned brightly on the water's edge +on each side of the landing place. A small heap of + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 113 + +damar-gum torches lay by each, and between them +Babalatchi strolled backwards and forwards, stopping +often with his face to the river and his head on one side, +listening to the sounds that came from the darkness +over the water. There was no moon and the night was +very clear overhead, but, after the afternoon breeze +had expired in fitful puffs, the vapours hung thickening +over the glancing surface of the Pantai and clung to the +shore, hiding from view the middle of the stream. + A cry in the mist--then another--and, before Baba- +latchi could answer, two little canoes dashed up to the +landing-place, and two of the principal citizens of +Sambir, Daoud Sahamin and Hamet Bahassoen, who +had been confidentially invited to meet Abdulla, +landed quickly and after greeting Babalatchi walked +up the dark courtyard towards the house. The little +stir caused by their arrival soon subsided, and another +silent hour dragged its slow length while Babalatchi +tramped up and down between the fires, his face grow- +ing more anxious with every passing moment. + At last there was heard a loud hail from down the +river. At a call from Babalatchi men ran down to +the riverside and, snatching the torches, thrust them +into the fires, then waved them above their heads till +they burst into a flame. The smoke ascended in +thick, wispy streams, and hung in a ruddy cloud above +the glare that lit up the courtyard and flashed over the +water, showing three long canoes manned by many +paddlers lying a little off; the men in them lifting +their paddles on high and dipping them down together, +in an easy stroke that kept the small flotilla motion- +less in the strong current, exactly abreast of the landing- +place. A man stood up in the largest craft and called +out-- + "Syed Abdulla bin Selim is here!" + + +114 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + Babalatchi answered aloud in a formal tone-- + "Allah gladdens our hearts! Come to the land!" + Abdulla landed first, steadying himself by the help +of Babalatchi's extended hand. In the short moment +of his passing from the boat to the shore they exchanged +sharp glances and a few rapid words. + "Who are you?" + "Babalatchi. The friend of Omar. The protected +of Lakamba." + "You wrote?" + "My words were written, O Giver of alms!" + And then Abdulla walked with composed face be- +tween the two lines of men holding torches, and met +Lakamba in front of the big fire that was crackling +itself up into a great blaze. For a moment they stood +with clasped hands invoking peace upon each other's +head, then Lakamba, still holding his honoured guest +by the hand, led him round the fire to the prepared +seats. Babalatchi followed close behind his protector. +Abdulla was accompanied by two Arabs. He, like his +companions, was dressed in a white robe of starched +muslin, which fell in stiff folds straight from the neck. +It was buttoned from the throat halfway down with a +close row of very small gold buttons; round the tight +sleeves there was a narrow braid of gold lace. On his +shaven head he wore a small skull-cap of plaited grass. +He was shod in patent leather slippers over his naked +feet. A rosary of heavy wooden beads hung by a round +turn from his right wrist. He sat down slowly in the +place of honour, and, dropping his slippers, tucked up +his legs under him decorously. + The improvised divan was arranged in a wide semi- +circle, of which the point most distant from the fire +--some ten yards--was also the nearest to Lakamba's +dwelling. As soon as the principal personages were + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 115 + +seated, the verandah of the house was filled silently by +the muffled-up forms of Lakamba's female belong- +ings. They crowded close to the rail and looked +down, whispering faintly. Below, the formal ex- +change of compliments went on for some time be- +tween Lakamba and Abdulla, who sat side by side. +Babalatchi squatted humbly at his protector's feet, +with nothing but a thin mat between himself and the +hard ground. + Then there was a pause. Abdulla glanced round in +an expectant manner, and after a while Babalatchi, who +had been sitting very still in a pensive attitude, seemed +to rouse himself with an effort, and began to speak in +gentle and persuasive tones. He described in flowing +sentences the first beginnings of Sambir, the dispute +of the present ruler, Patalolo, with the Sultan of Koti, +the consequent troubles ending with the rising of +Bugis settlers under the leadership of Lakamba. At +different points of the narrative he would turn for +confirmation to Sahamin and Bahassoen, who sat lis- +tening eagerly and assented together with a "Betul! +Betul! Right! Right!" ejaculated in a fervent under- +tone. + Warming up with his subject as the narrative pro- +ceeded, Babalatchi went on to relate the facts con- +nected with Lingard's action at the critical period of +those internal dissensions. He spoke in a restrained +voice still, but with a growing energy of indignation. +What was he, that man of fierce aspect, to keep all +the world away from them? Was he a government? +Who made him ruler? He took possession of Pata- +lolo's mind and made his heart hard; he put severe +words into his mouth and caused his hand to strike +right and left. That unbeliever kept the Faithful +panting under the weight of his senseless oppression. + + +116 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +They had to trade with him--accept such goods as +he would give--such credit as he would accord. And +he exacted payment every year . . . + "Very true!" exclaimed Sahamin and Bahassoen +together. + Babalatchi glanced at them approvingly and turned +to Abdulla. + "Listen to those men, O Protector of the oppressed!" +he exclaimed. "What could we do? A man must +trade. There was nobody else." + Sahamin got up, staff in hand, and spoke to Abdulla +with ponderous courtesy, emphasizing his words by the +solemn flourishes of his right arm. + "It is so. We are weary of paying our debts to +that white man here, who is the son of the Rajah Laut. +That white man--may the grave of his mother be +defiled!--is not content to hold us all in his hand with a +cruel grasp. He seeks to cause our very death. He +trades with the Dyaks of the forest, who are no better +than monkeys. He buys from them guttah and rat- +tans--while we starve. Only two days ago I went to +him and said, 'Tuan Almayer'--even so; we must speak +politely to that friend of Satan--'Tuan Almayer, I have +such and such goods to sell. Will you buy?' And he +spoke thus--because those white men have no under- +standing of any courtesy--he spoke to me as if I was a +slave: 'Daoud, you are a lucky man'--remark, O First +amongst the Believers! that by those words he could +have brought misfortune on my head--'you are a lucky +man to have anything in these hard times. Bring your +goods quickly, and I shall receive them in payment of +what you owe me from last year.' And he laughed, +and struck me on the shoulder with his open hand. +May Jehannum be his lot!" + "We will fight him," said young Bahassoen, crisply. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 117 + +"We shall fight if there is help and a leader. Tuan +Abdulla, will you come among us?" + Abdulla did not answer at once. His lips moved in +an inaudible whisper and the beads passed through his +fingers with a dry click. All waited in respectful +silence. "I shall come if my ship can enter this river," +said Abdulla at last, in a solemn tone. + "It can, Tuan," exclaimed Babalatchi. "There is +a white man here who . . ." + "I want to see Omar el Badavi and that white man +you wrote about," interrupted Abdulla. + Babalatchi got on his feet quickly, and there was a +general move. The women on the verandah hurried +indoors, and from the crowd that had kept discreetly +in distant parts of the courtyard a couple of men ran +with armfuls of dry fuel, which they cast upon the +fire. One of them, at a sign from Babalatchi, ap- +proached and, after getting his orders, went towards +the little gate and entered Omar's enclosure. While +waiting for his return, Lakamba, Abdulla, and Baba- +latchi talked together in low tones. Sahamin sat by +himself chewing betel-nut sleepily with a slight and +indolent motion of his heavy jaw. Bahassoen, his +hand on the hilt of his short sword, strutted back- +wards and forwards in the full light of the fire, looking +very warlike and reckless; the envy and admi- +ration of Lakamba's retainers, who stood in groups +or flitted about noiselessly in the shadows of the +courtyard. + The messenger who had been sent to Omar came +back and stood at a distance, waiting till somebody +noticed him. Babalatchi beckoned him close. + "What are his words?" asked Babalatchi. + "He says that Syed Abdulla is welcome now," an- +swered the man. + + +118 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + Lakamba was speaking low to Abdulla, who listened +to him with deep interest. + ". . . We could have eighty men if there was +need," he was saying--"eighty men in fourteen canoes. +The only thing we want is gunpowder . . ." + "Hai! there will be no fighting," broke in Baba- +latchi. "The fear of your name will be enough and the +terror of your coming." + "There may be powder too," muttered Abdulla +with great nonchalance, "if only the ship enters the +river safely." + "If the heart is stout the ship will be safe," said +Babalatchi. "We will go now and see Omar el Badavi +and the white man I have here." + Lakamba's dull eyes became animated suddenly. + "Take care, Tuan Abdulla," he said, "take care. +The behaviour of that unclean white madman is furious +in the extreme. He offered to strike . . ." + "On my head, you are safe, O Giver of alms!" inter- +rupted Babalatchi. + Abdulla looked from one to the other, and the faintest +flicker of a passing smile disturbed for a moment his +grave composure. He turned to Babalatchi, and said +with decision-- + "Let us go." + "This way, O Uplifter of our hearts!" rattled on +Babalatchi, with fussy deference. "Only a very few +paces and you shall behold Omar the brave, and a +white man of great strength and cunning. This way." + He made a sign for Lakamba to remain behind, +and with respectful touches on the elbow steered Ab- +dulla towards the gate at the upper end of the court- +yard. As they walked on slowly, followed by the two +Arabs, he kept on talking in a rapid undertone to the +great man, who never looked at him once, although + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 119 + +appearing to listen with flattering attention. When +near the gate Babalatchi moved forward and stopped, +facing Abdulla, with his hand on the fastenings. + "You shall see them both," he said. "All my +words about them are true. When I saw him enslaved +by the one of whom I spoke, I knew he would be soft +in my hand like the mud of the river. At first he an- +swered my talk with bad words of his own language, +after the manner of white men. Afterwards, when +listening to the voice he loved, he hesitated. He hesi- +tated for many days--too many. I, knowing him well, +made Omar withdraw here with his . . . house- +hold. Then this red-faced man raged for three days +like a black panther that is hungry. And this evening, +this very evening, he came. I have him here. He is +in the grasp of one with a merciless heart. I have him +here," ended Babalatchi, exultingly tapping the up- +right of the gate with his hand. + "That is good," murmured Abdulla. + "And he shall guide your ship and lead in the fight-- +if fight there be," went on Babalatchi. "If there is any +killing--let him be the slayer. You should give him +arms--a short gun that fires many times." + "Yes, by Allah!" assented Abdulla, with slow +thoughtfulness. + "And you will have to open your hand, O First +amongst the generous!" continued Babalatchi. "You +will have to satisfy the rapacity of a white man, and +also of one who is not a man, and therefore greedy of +ornaments." + "They shall be satisfied," said Abdulla; "but . . ." +He hesitated, looking down on the ground and +stroking his beard, while Babalatchi waited, anxious, +with parted lips. After a short time he spoke again +jerkily in an indistinct whisper, so that Babalatchi had + + +120 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +to turn his head to catch the words. "Yes. But +Omar is the son of my father's uncle . . . and all +belonging to him are of the Faith . . . while that +man is an unbeliever. It is most unseemly . . . +very unseemly. He cannot live under my shadow. +Not that dog. Penitence! I take refuge with my +God," he mumbled rapidly. "How can he live under +my eyes with that woman, who is of the Faith? Scan- +dal! O abomination!" + He finished with a rush and drew a long breath, +then added dubiously-- + "And when that man has done all we want, what +is to be done with him?" + They stood close together, meditative and silent, +their eyes roaming idly over the courtyard. The big +bonfire burned brightly, and a wavering splash of +light lay on the dark earth at their feet, while the lazy +smoke wreathed itself slowly in gleaming coils amongst +the black boughs of the trees. They could see La- +kamba, who had returned to his place, sitting hunched +up spiritlessly on the cushions, and Sahamin, who had +got on his feet again and appeared to be talking to him +with dignified animation. Men in twos or threes came +out of the shadows into the light, strolling slowly, and +passed again into the shadows, their faces turned to each +other, their arms moving in restrained gestures. Bahas- +soen, his head proudly thrown back, his ornaments, +embroideries, and sword-hilt flashing in the light, circled +steadily round the fire like a planet round the sun. A +cool whiff of damp air came from the darkness of the +riverside; it made Abdulla and Babalatchi shiver, and +woke them up from their abstraction. + "Open the gate and go first," said Abdulla; "there +is no danger?" + "On my life, no!" answered Babalatchi, lifting the + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 121 + +rattan ring. "He is all peace and content, like a thirsty +man who has drunk water after many days." + He swung the gate wide, made a few paces into the +gloom of the enclosure, and retraced his steps suddenly. + "He may be made useful in many ways," he whis- +pered to Abdulla, who had stopped short, seeing him +come back. + "O Sin! O Temptation!" sighed out Abdulla, +faintly. "Our refuge is with the Most High. Can +I feed this infidel for ever and for ever?" he added, +impatiently. + "No," breathed out Babalatchi. "No! Not for +ever. Only while he serves your designs, O Dispenser +of Allah's gifts! When the time comes--and your +order . . ." + He sidled close to Abdulla, and brushed with a +delicate touch the hand that hung down listlessly, +holding the prayer-beads. + "I am your slave and your offering," he murmured, +in a distinct and polite tone, into Abdulla's ear. "When +your wisdom speaks, there may be found a little poison +that will not lie. Who knows?" + + + CHAPTER FOUR + + BABALATCHI saw Abdulla pass through the low and +narrow entrance into the darkness of Omar's hut; +heard them exchange the usual greetings and the +distinguished visitor's grave voice asking: "There is +no misfortune--please God--but the sight?" and then, +becoming aware of the disapproving looks of the two +Arabs who had accompanied Abdulla, he followed their +example and fell back out of earshot. He did it unwill- +ingly, although he did not ignore that what was going +to happen in there was now absolutely beyond his con- +trol. He roamed irresolutely about for awhile, and at +last wandered with careless steps towards the fire, +which had been moved, from under the tree, close to the +hut and a little to windward of its entrance. He +squatted on his heels and began playing pensively with +live embers, as was his habit when engrossed in thought, +withdrawing his hand sharply and shaking it above his +head when he burnt his fingers in a fit of deeper abstrac- +tion. Sitting there he could hear the murmur of the +talk inside the hut, and he could distinguish the voices +but not the words. Abdulla spoke in deep tones, and +now and then this flowing monotone was interrupted +by a querulous exclamation, a weak moan or a plaintive +quaver of the old man. Yes. It was annoying not +to be able to make out what they were saying, thought +Babalatchi, as he sat gazing fixedly at the unsteady +glow of the fire. But it will be right. All will be right. +Abdulla inspired him with confidence. He came up +fully to his expectation. From the very first moment + +122 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 123 + +when he set his eye on him he felt sure that this man-- +whom he had known by reputation only--was very reso- +lute. Perhaps too resolute. Perhaps he would want to +grasp too much later on. A shadow flitted over Baba- +latchi's face. On the eve of the accomplishment of +his desires he felt the bitter taste of that drop of doubt +which is mixed with the sweetness of every success. + When, hearing footsteps on the verandah of the big +house, he lifted his head, the shadow had passed away +and on his face there was an expression of watchful +alertness. Willems was coming down the plankway, +into the courtyard. The light within trickled through +the cracks of the badly joined walls of the house, and +in the illuminated doorway appeared the moving form +of Aissa. She also passed into the night outside and +disappeared from view. Babalatchi wondered where +she had got to, and for the moment forgot the approach +of Willems. The voice of the white man speaking +roughly above his head made him jump to his feet as +if impelled upwards by a powerful spring. + "Where's Abdulla?" + Babalatchi waved his hand towards the hut and stood +listening intently. The voices within had ceased, then +recommenced again. He shot an oblique glance at +Willems, whose indistinct form towered above the glow +of dying embers. + "Make up this fire," said Willems, abruptly. "I +want to see your face." + With obliging alacrity Babalatchi put some dry +brushwood on the coals from a handy pile, keeping +all the time a watchful eye on Willems. When he +straightened himself up his hand wandered almost +involuntarily towards his left side to feel the handle of +a kriss amongst the folds of his sarong, but he tried to +look unconcerned under the angry stare. + + +124 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "You are in good health, please God?" he mur- +mured. + "Yes!" answered Willems, with an unexpected loud- +ness that caused Babalatchi to start nervously. "Yes! +. . . Health! . . . You . . ." + He made a long stride and dropped both his hands on +the Malay's shoulders. In the powerful grip Babalat- +chi swayed to and fro limply, but his face was as peaceful +as when he sat--a little while ago--dreaming by the +fire. With a final vicious jerk Willems let go suddenly, +and turning away on his heel stretched his hands over +the fire. Babalatchi stumbled backwards, recovered +himself, and wriggled his shoulders laboriously. + "Tse! Tse! Tse!" he clicked, deprecatingly. After +a short silence he went on with accentuated admiration: +"What a man it is! What a strong man! A man like +that"--he concluded, in a tone of meditative wonder-- +"a man like that could upset mountains--mountains!" + He gazed hopefully for a while at Willems' broad +shoulders, and continued, addressing the inimical back, +in a low and persuasive voice-- + "But why be angry with me? With me who think +only of your good? Did I not give her refuge, in my +own house? Yes, Tuan! This is my own house. I +will let you have it without any recompense because +she must have a shelter. Therefore you and she shall +live here. Who can know a woman's mind? And +such a woman! If she wanted to go away from that +other place, who am I--to say no! I am Omar's +servant. I said: 'Gladden my heart by taking my +house.' Did I say right?" + "I'll tell you something," said Willems, without +changing his position; "if she takes a fancy to go away +from this place it is you who shall suffer. I will wring +your neck." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 125 + + "When the heart is full of love there is no room in it +for justice," recommenced Babalatchi, with unmoved +and persistent softness. "Why slay me? You know, +Tuan, what she wants. A splendid destiny is her desire +--as of all women. You have been wronged and cast +out by your people. She knows that. But you are +brave, you are strong--you are a man; and, Tuan-- +I am older than you--you are in her hand. Such +is the fate of strong men. And she is of noble birth +and cannot live like a slave. You know her--and you +are in her hand. You are like a snared bird, because +of your strength. And--remember I am a man that +has seen much--submit, Tuan! Submit! . . . Or +else . . ." + He drawled out the last words in a hesitating manner +and broke off his sentence. Still stretching his hands +in turns towards the blaze and without moving his +head, Willems gave a short, lugubrious laugh, and +asked-- + "Or else what?" + "She may go away again. Who knows?" finished +Babalatchi, in a gentle and insinuating tone. + This time Willems spun round sharply. Babalatchi +stepped back. + "If she does it will be the worse for you," said Wil- +lems, in a menacing voice. "It will be your doing, +and I . . ." + Babalatchi spoke, from beyond the circle of light, +with calm disdain. + "Hai--ya! I have heard before. If she goes-- +then I die. Good! Will that bring her back do you +think--Tuan? If it is my doing it shall be well done, +O white man! and--who knows--you will have to +live without her." + Willems gasped and started back like a confident + + +126 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +wayfarer who, pursuing a path he thinks safe, should +see just in time a bottomless chasm under his feet. +Babalatchi came into the light and approached Willems +sideways, with his head thrown back and a little on +one side so as to bring his only eye to bear full on the +countenance of the tall white man. + "You threaten me," said Willems, indistinctly. + "I, Tuan!" exclaimed Babalatchi, with a slight +suspicion of irony in the affected surprise of his tone. +"I, Tuan? Who spoke of death? Was it I? No! +I spoke of life only. Only of life. Of a long life for a +lonely man!" + They stood with the fire between them, both silent, +both aware, each in his own way, of the importance of +the passing minutes. Babalatchi's fatalism gave him +only an insignificant relief in his suspense, because no +fatalism can kill the thought of the future, the desire +of success, the pain of waiting for the disclosure of the +immutable decrees of Heaven. Fatalism is born of the +fear of failure, for we all believe that we carry success +in our own hands, and we suspect that our hands are +weak. Babalatchi looked at Willems and congratu- +lated himself upon his ability to manage that white man. +There was a pilot for Abdulla--a victim to appease +Lingard's anger in case of any mishap. He would take +good care to put him forward in everything. In any +case let the white men fight it out amongst themselves. +They were fools. He hated them--the strong fools-- +and knew that for his righteous wisdom was reserved the +safe triumph. + Willems measured dismally the depth of his degrada- +tion. He--a white man, the admired of white men, +was held by those miserable savages whose tool he was +about to become. He felt for them all the hate of his +race, of his morality, of his intelligence. He looked + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 127 + +upon himself with dismay and pity. She had him. He +had heard of such things. He had heard of women +who . . . He would never believe such stories. +. . . Yet they were true. But his own captivity +seemed more complete, terrible, and final--without the +hope of any redemption. He wondered at the wicked- +ness of Providence that had made him what he was; +that, worse still, permitted such a creature as Almayer +to live. He had done his duty by going to him. Why +did he not understand? All men were fools. He gave +him his chance. The fellow did not see it. It was +hard, very hard on himself--Willems. He wanted to +take her from amongst her own people. That's why +he had condescended to go to Almayer. He examined +himself. With a sinking heart he thought that really +he could not--somehow--live without her. It was +terrible and sweet. He remembered the first days. +Her appearance, her face, her smile, her eyes, her +words. A savage woman! Yet he perceived that he +could think of nothing else but of the three days of their +separation, of the few hours since their reunion. Very +well. If he could not take her away, then he would go +to her. . . . He had, for a moment, a wicked +pleasure in the thought that what he had done could +not be undone. He had given himself up. He felt +proud of it. He was ready to face anything, do any- +thing. He cared for nothing, for nobody. He thought +himself very fearless, but as a matter of fact he was +only drunk; drunk with the poison of passionate mem- +ories. + He stretched his hands over the fire, looked round +and called out-- + "Aissa!" + She must have been near, for she appeared at once +within the light of the fire. The upper part of her + + +128 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +body was wrapped up in the thick folds of a head +covering which was pulled down over her brow, and +one end of it thrown across from shoulder to shoulder +hid the lower part of her face. Only her eyes were +visible--sombre and gleaming like a starry night. + Willems, looking at this strange, muffled figure, felt +exasperated, amazed and helpless. The ex-confiden- +tial clerk of the rich Hudig would hug to his breast +settled conceptions of respectable conduct. He sought +refuge within his ideas of propriety from the dismal +mangroves, from the darkness of the forests and of the +heathen souls of the savages that were his masters. +She looked like an animated package of cheap cotton +goods! It made him furious. She had disguised +herself so because a man of her race was near! He +told her not to do it, and she did not obey. Would +his ideas ever change so as to agree with her own no- +tions of what was becoming, proper and respectable? +He was really afraid they would, in time. It seemed to +him awful. She would never change! This manifesta- +tion of her sense of proprieties was another sign of their +hopeless diversity; something like another step down- +wards for him. She was too different from him. He +was so civilized! It struck him suddenly that they +had nothing in common--not a thought, not a feeling; +he could not make clear to her the simplest motive of +any act of his . . . and he could not live without +her. + The courageous man who stood facing Babalatchi +gasped unexpectedly with a gasp that was half a groan. +This little matter of her veiling herself against his wish +acted upon him like a disclosure of some great disaster. +It increased his contempt for himself as the slave of a +passion he had always derided, as the man unable to +assert his will. This will, all his sensations, his per- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 129 + +sonality--all this seemed to be lost in the abominable +desire, in the priceless promise of that woman. He was +not, of course, able to discern clearly the causes of his +misery; but there are none so ignorant as not to know +suffering, none so simple as not to feel and suffer from +the shock of warring impulses. The ignorant must feel +and suffer from their complexity as well as the wisest; +but to them the pain of struggle and defeat appears +strange, mysterious, remediable and unjust. He stood +watching her, watching himself. He tingled with rage +from head to foot, as if he had been struck in the face. +Suddenly he laughed; but his laugh was like a distorted +echo of some insincere mirth very far away. + From the other side of the fire Babalatchi spoke +hurriedly-- + "Here is Tuan Abdulla." + + + + CHAPTER FIVE + + DIRECTLY on stepping outside Omar's hut Abdulla +caught sight of Willems. He expected, of course, to +see a white man, but not that white man, whom he +knew so well. Everybody who traded in the islands, +and who had any dealings with Hudig, knew Willems. +For the last two years of his stay in Macassar the con- +fidential clerk had been managing all the local trade of +the house under a very slight supervision only on the +part of the master. So everybody knew Willems, +Abdulla amongst others--but he was ignorant of Wil- +lems' disgrace. As a matter of fact the thing had been +kept very quiet--so quiet that a good many people in +Macassar were expecting Willems' return there, sup- +posing him to be absent on some confidential mission. +Abdulla, in his surprise, hesitated on the threshold. +He had prepared himself to see some seaman--some +old officer of Lingard's; a common man--perhaps diffi- +cult to deal with, but still no match for him. Instead, he +saw himself confronted by an individual whose reputa- +tion for sagacity in business was well known to +him. How did he get here, and why? Abdulla, re- +covering from his surprise, advanced in a digni- +fied manner towards the fire, keeping his eyes fixed +steadily on Willems. When within two paces from +Willems he stopped and lifted his right hand in grave +salutation. Willems nodded slightly and spoke after +a while. + "We know each other, Tuan Abdulla," he said, with +an assumption of easy indifference. + +130 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 131 + + "We have traded together," answered Abdulla, +solemnly, "but it was far from here." + "And we may trade here also," said Willems. + "The place does not matter. It is the open mind +and the true heart that are required in business." + "Very true. My heart is as open as my mind. I +will tell you why I am here." + "What need is there? In leaving home one learns +life. You travel. Travelling is victory! You shall +return with much wisdom." + "I shall never return," interrupted Willems. "I +have done with my people. I am a man without +brothers. Injustice destroys fidelity." + Abdulla expressed his surprise by elevating his +eyebrows. At the same time he made a vague gesture +with his arm that could be taken as an equivalent of +an approving and conciliating "just so!" + Till then the Arab had not taken any notice of +Aissa, who stood by the fire, but now she spoke in +the interval of silence following Willems' declaration. +In a voice that was much deadened by her wrappings +she addressed Abdulla in a few words of greeting, calling +him a kinsman. Abdulla glanced at her swiftly for a +second, and then, with perfect good breeding, fixed his +eyes on the ground. She put out towards him her hand, +covered with a corner of her face-veil, and he took it, +pressed it twice, and dropping it turned towards Willems. +She looked at the two men searchingly, then backed +away and seemed to melt suddenly into the night. + "I know what you came for, Tuan Abdulla," said +Willems; "I have been told by that man there." He +nodded towards Babalatchi, then went on slowly, "It +will be a difficult thing." + "Allah makes everything easy," interjected Baba- +latchi, piously, from a distance. + + +132 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + The two men turned quickly and stood looking at +him thoughtfully, as if in deep consideration of the +truth of that proposition. Under their sustained gaze +Babalatchi experienced an unwonted feeling of shy- +ness, and dared not approach nearer. At last Willems +moved slightly, Abdulla followed readily, and they +both walked down the courtyard, their voices dying +away in the darkness. Soon they were heard return- +ing, and the voices grew distinct as their forms came +out of the gloom. By the fire they wheeled again, and +Babalatchi caught a few words. Willems was saying-- + "I have been at sea with him many years when +young. I have used my knowledge to observe the way +into the river when coming in, this time." + Abdulla assented in general terms + "In the variety of knowledge there is safety," he +said; and then they passed out of earshot. + Babalatchi ran to the tree and took up his position +in the solid blackness under its branches, leaning +against the trunk. There he was about midway be- +tween the fire and the other limit of the two men's +walk. They passed him close. Abdulla slim, very +straight, his head high, and his hands hanging before +him and twisting mechanically the string of beads; +Willems tall, broad, looking bigger and stronger in +contrast to the slight white figure by the side of which +he strolled carelessly, taking one step to the other's +two; his big arms in constant motion as he gesticulated +vehemently, bending forward to look Abdulla in the +face. + They passed and repassed close to Babalatchi some +half a dozen times, and, whenever they were between +him and the fire, he could see them plain enough. +Sometimes they would stop short, Willems speaking +emphatically, Abdulla listening with rigid attention. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 133 + +then, when the other had ceased, bending his head +slightly as if consenting to some demand, or admitting +some statement. Now and then Babalatchi caught a +word here and there, a fragment of a sentence, a loud +exclamation. Impelled by curiosity he crept to the +very edge of the black shadow under the tree. They +were nearing him, and he heard Willems say-- + "You will pay that money as soon as I come on +board. That I must have." + He could not catch Abdulla's reply. When they +went past again, Willems was saying-- + "My life is in your hand anyway. The boat that +brings me on board your ship shall take the money to +Omar. You must have it ready in a sealed bag." + Again they were out of hearing, but instead of +coming back they stopped by the fire facing each other. +Willems moved his arm, shook his hand on high talking +all the time, then brought it down jerkily--stamped his +foot. A short period of immobility ensued. Babalat- +chi, gazing intently, saw Abdulla's lips move almost +imperceptibly. Suddenly Willems seized the Arab's +passive hand and shook it. Babalatchi drew the long +breath of relieved suspense. The conference was over. +All well, apparently. + He ventured now to approach the two men, who +saw him and waited in silence. Willems had retired +within himself already, and wore a look of grim in- +difference. Abdulla moved away a step or two. Baba- +latchi looked at him inquisitively. + "I go now," said Abdulla, "and shall wait for you +outside the river, Tuan Willems, till the second sun- +set. You have only one word, I know." + "Only one word," repeated Willems. + Abdulla and Babalatchi walked together down the +enclosure, leaving the white man alone by the fire. + + +134 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +The two Arabs who had come with Abdulla preceded +them and passed at once through the little gate into +the light and the murmur of voices of the principal +courtyard, but Babalatchi and Abdulla stopped on this +side of it. Abdulla said-- + "It is well. We have spoken of many things. He +consents." + "When?" asked Babalatchi, eagerly. + "On the second day from this. I have promised +every thing. I mean to keep much." + "Your hand is always open, O Most Generous +amongst Believers! You will not forget your servant +who called you here. Have I not spoken the truth? +She has made roast meat of his heart." + With a horizontal sweep of his arm Abdulla seemed +to push away that last statement, and said slowly, +with much meaning-- + "He must be perfectly safe; do you understand? +Perfectly safe--as if he was amongst his own people-- +till . . ." + "Till when?" whispered Babalatchi. + "Till I speak," said Abdulla. "As to Omar." He +hesitated for a moment, then went on very low: "He +is very old." + "Hai-ya! Old and sick," murmured Babalatchi, +with sudden melancholy. + "He wanted me to kill that white man. He begged +me to have him killed at once," said Abdulla, con- +temptuously, moving again towards the gate. + "He is impatient, like those who feel death near +them," exclaimed Babalatchi, apologetically. + "Omar shall dwell with me," went on Abdulla, +"when . . . But no matter. Remember! The +white man must be safe." + He lives in your shadow," answered Babalatchi, + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 135 + +solemnly. "It is enough!" He touched his fore- +head and fell back to let Abdulla go first. + And now they are back in the courtyard where- +from, at their appearance, listlessness vanishes, and all +the faces become alert and interested once more. La- +kamba approaches his guest, but looks at Babalatchi, +who reassures him by a confident nod. Lakamba +clumsily attempts a smile, and looking, with natural +and ineradicable sulkiness, from under his eyebrows +at the man whom he wants to honour, asks whether +he would condescend to visit the place of sitting down +and take food. Or perhaps he would prefer to give +himself up to repose? The house is his, and what is in +it, and those many men that stand afar watching the +interview are his. Syed Abdulla presses his host's hand +to his breast, and informs him in a confidential murmur +that his habits are ascetic and his temperament inclines +to melancholy. No rest; no food; no use whatever for +those many men who are his. Syed Abdulla is im- +patient to be gone. Lakamba is sorrowful but polite, +in his hesitating, gloomy way. Tuan Abdulla must +have fresh boatmen, and many, to shorten the dark and +fatiguing road. Hai-ya! There! Boats! + By the riverside indistinct forms leap into a noisy +and disorderly activity. There are cries, orders, banter, +abuse. Torches blaze sending out much more smoke +than light, and in their red glare Babalatchi comes up +to say that the boats are ready. + Through that lurid glare Syed Abdulla, in his long +white gown, seems to glide fantastically, like a dignified +apparition attended by two inferior shades, and stands +for a moment at the landing-place to take leave of his +host and ally--whom he loves. Syed Abdulla says so +distinctly before embarking, and takes his seat in the +middle of the canoe under a small canopy of blue calico + + +136 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +stretched on four sticks. Before and behind Syed +Abdulla, the men squatting by the gunwales hold high +the blades of their paddles in readiness for a dip, all +together. Ready? Not yet. Hold on all! Syed +Abdulla speaks again, while Lakamba and Babalatchi +stand close on the bank to hear his words. His words +are encouraging. Before the sun rises for the second +time they shall meet, and Syed Abdulla's ship shall +float on the waters of this river--at last! Lakamba and +Babalatchi have no doubt--if Allah wills. They are +in the hands of the Compassionate. No doubt. And so +is Syed Abdulla, the great trader who does not know +what the word failure means; and so is the white man +--the smartest business man in the islands--who is lying +now by Omar's fire with his head on Aissa's lap, while +Syed Abdulla flies down the muddy river with current +and paddles between the sombre walls of the sleeping +forest; on his way to the clear and open sea where the +<i>Lord of the Isles</I> (formerly of Greenock, but con- +demned, sold, and registered now as of Penang) waits +for its owner, and swings erratically at anchor in the +currents of the capricious tide, under the crumbling +red cliffs of Tanjong Mirrah. + + For some time Lakamba, Sahamin, and Bahassoen +looked silently into the humid darkness which had +swallowed the big canoe that carried Abdulla and his +unvarying good fortune. Then the two guests broke +into a talk expressive of their joyful anticipations. +The venerable Sahamin, as became his advanced age, +found his delight in speculation as to the activities of a +rather remote future. He would buy praus, he would +send expeditions up the river, he would enlarge his +trade, and, backed by Abdulla's capital, he would grow +rich in a very few years. Very few. Meantime it + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 137 + +would be a good thing to interview Almayer to-morrow +and, profiting by the last day of the hated man's pros- +perity, obtain some goods from him on credit. Saha- +min thought it could be done by skilful wheedling. +After all, that son of Satan was a fool, and the thing +was worth doing, because the coming revolution would +wipe all debts out. Sahamin did not mind imparting +that idea to his companions, with much senile chuckling, +while they strolled together from the riverside towards +the residence. The bull-necked Lakamba, listening +with pouted lips without the sign of a smile, without a +gleam in his dull, bloodshot eyes, shuffled slowly across +the courtyard between his two guests. But suddenly +Bahassoen broke in upon the old man's prattle with +the generous enthusiasm of his youth. . . . Trad- +ing was very good. But was the change that would +make them happy effected yet? The white man should +be despoiled with a strong hand! . . . He grew +excited, spoke very loud, and his further discourse, +delivered with his hand on the hilt of his sword, dealt +incoherently with the honourable topics of throat- +cutting, fire-raising, and with the far-famed valour of +his ancestors. + Babalatchi remained behind, alone with the great- +ness of his conceptions. The sagacious statesman of +Sambir sent a scornful glance after his noble pro- +tector and his noble protector's friends, and then stood +meditating about that future which to the others seemed +so assured. Not so to Babalatchi, who paid the penalty +of his wisdom by a vague sense of insecurity that kept +sleep at arm's length from his tired body. When he +thought at last of leaving the waterside, it was only to +strike a path for himself and to creep along the fences, +avoiding the middle of the courtyard where small +fires glimmered and winked as though the sinister + + +138 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +darkness there had reflected the stars of the serene +heaven. He slunk past the wicket-gate of Omar's +enclosure, and crept on patiently along the light bamboo +palisade till he was stopped by the angle where it +joined the heavy stockade of Lakamba's private +ground. Standing there, he could look over the fence +and see Omar's hut and the fire before its door. He +could also see the shadow of two human beings sitting +between him and the red glow. A man and a woman. +The sight seemed to inspire the careworn sage with a +frivolous desire to sing. It could hardly be called a +song; it was more in the nature of a recitative without +any rhythm, delivered rapidly but distinctly in a croak- +ing and unsteady voice; and if Babalatchi considered it +a song, then it was a song with a purpose and, perhaps +for that reason, artistically defective. It had all the +imperfections of unskilful improvisation and its subject +was gruesome. It told a tale of shipwreck and of thirst, +and of one brother killing another for the sake of a +gourd of water. A repulsive story which might have +had a purpose but possessed no moral whatever. Yet +it must have pleased Babalatchi for he repeated it +twice, the second time even in louder tones than at +first, causing a disturbance amongst the white rice- +birds and the wild fruit-pigeons which roosted on the +boughs of the big tree growing in Omar's compound. +There was in the thick foliage above the singer's head +a confused beating of wings, sleepy remarks in bird- +language, a sharp stir of leaves. The forms by the fire +moved; the shadow of the woman altered its shape, +and Babalatchi's song was cut short abruptly by a fit +of soft and persistent coughing. He did not try to +resume his efforts after that interruption, but went away +stealthily to seek--if not sleep--then, at least, repose. + + + + CHAPTER SIX + + AS SOON as Abdulla and his companions had left the +enclosure, Aissa approached Willems and stood by his +side. He took no notice of her expectant attitude till +she touched him gently, when he turned furiously +upon her and, tearing off her face-veil, trampled upon +it as though it had been a mortal enemy. She looked +at him with the faint smile of patient curiosity, with +the puzzled interest of ignorance watching the running +of a complicated piece of machinery. After he had +exhausted his rage, he stood again severe and unbend- +ing looking down at the fire, but the touch of her fingers +at the nape of his neck effaced instantly the hard lines +round his mouth; his eyes wavered uneasily; his lips +trembled slightly. Starting with the unresisting rapid- +ity of a particle of iron--which, quiescent one moment, +leaps in the next to a powerful magnet--he moved for- +ward, caught her in his arms and pressed her violently to +his breast. He released her as suddenly, and she stum- +bled a little, stepped back, breathed quickly through her +parted lips, and said in a tone of pleased reproof-- + "O Fool-man! And if you had killed me in your +strong arms what would you have done?" + "You want to live . . . and to run away from +me again," he said gently. "Tell me--do you?" + She moved towards him with very short steps, her +head a little on one side, hands on hips, with a slight +balancing of her body: an approach more tantalizing +than an escape. He looked on, eager--charmed. She +spoke jestingly. + +139 + + +140 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "What am I to say to a man who has been away +three days from me? Three!" she repeated, holding +up playfully three fingers before Willems' eyes. He +snatched at the hand, but she was on her guard and +whisked it behind her back. + "No!" she said. "I cannot be caught. But I +will come. I am coming myself because I like. Do +not move. Do not touch me with your mighty hands, +O child!" + As she spoke she made a step nearer, then another. +Willems did not stir. Pressing against him she stood +on tiptoe to look into his eyes, and her own seemed to +grow bigger, glistening and tender, appealing and +promising. With that look she drew the man's soul +away from him through his immobile pupils, and from +Willems' features the spark of reason vanished under +her gaze and was replaced by an appearance of physical +well-being, an ecstasy of the senses which had taken +possession of his rigid body; an ecstasy that drove out +regrets, hesitation and doubt, and proclaimed its ter- +rible work by an appalling aspect of idiotic beatitude. +He never stirred a limb, hardly breathed, but stood in +stiff immobility, absorbing the delight of her close con- +tact by every pore. + "Closer! Closer!" he murmured. + Slowly she raised her arms, put them over his shoul- +ders, and clasping her hands at the back of his neck, +swung off the full length of her arms. Her head fell +back, the eyelids dropped slightly, and her thick hair +hung straight down: a mass of ebony touched by the +red gleams of the fire. He stood unyielding under the +strain, as solid and motionless as one of the big trees +of the surrounding forests; and his eyes looked at the +modelling of her chin, at the outline of her neck, at the +swelling lines of her bosom, with the famished and con- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 141 + +centrated expression of a starving man looking at food. +She drew herself up to him and rubbed her head against +his cheek slowly and gently. He sighed. She, with +her hands still on his shoulders, glanced up at the placid +stars and said-- + "The night is half gone. We shall finish it by this +fire. By this fire you shall tell me all: your words and +Syed Abdulla's words; and listening to you I shall for- +get the three days--because I am good. Tell me--am +I good?" + He said "Yes" dreamily, and she ran off towards +the big house. + When she came back, balancing a roll of fine mats +on her head, he had replenished the fire and was ready +to help her in arranging a couch on the side of it nearest +to the hut. She sank down with a quick but gracefully +controlled movement, and he threw himself full length +with impatient haste, as if he wished to forestall some- +body. She took his head on her knees, and when he +felt her hands touching his face, her fingers playing with +his hair, he had an expression of being taken possession +of; he experienced a sense of peace, of rest, of happiness, +and of soothing delight. His hands strayed upwards +about her neck, and he drew her down so as to have her +face above his. Then he whispered--"I wish I could +die like this--now!" She looked at him with her big +sombre eyes, in which there was no responsive light. +His thought was so remote from her understanding that +she let the words pass by unnoticed, like the breath of +the wind, like the flight of a cloud. Woman though she +was, she could not comprehend, in her simplicity, the +tremendous compliment of that speech, that whisper +of deadly happiness, so sincere, so spontaneous, coming +so straight from the heart--like every corruption. It +was the voice of madness, of a delirious peace, of happi- + + +142 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +ness that is infamous, cowardly, and so exquisite that +the debased mind refuses to contemplate its termina- +tion: for to the victims of such happiness the moment +of its ceasing is the beginning afresh of that torture +which is its price. + With her brows slightly knitted in the determined +preoccupation of her own desires, she said-- + "Now tell me all. All the words spoken between +you and Syed Abdulla." + Tell what? What words? Her voice recalled back +the consciousness that had departed under her touch, +and he became aware of the passing minutes every one +of which was like a reproach; of those minutes that fall- +ing, slow, reluctant, irresistible into the past, marked +his footsteps on the way to perdition. Not that he had +any conviction about it, any notion of the possible end- +ing on that painful road. It was an indistinct feeling, +a threat of suffering like the confused warning of coming +disease, an inarticulate monition of evil made up of fear +and pleasure, of resignation and of revolt. He was +ashamed of his state of mind. After all, what was he +afraid of? Were those scruples? Why that hesitation +to think, to speak of what he intended doing? Scruples +were for imbeciles. His clear duty was to make himself +happy. Did he ever take an oath of fidelity to Lin- +gard? No. Well then--he would not let any interest +of that old fool stand between Willems and Willems' +happiness. Happiness? Was he not, perchance, on a +false track? Happiness meant money. Much money. +At least he had always thought so till he had experienced +those new sensations which . . . + Aissa's question, repeated impatiently, interrupted +his musings, and looking up at her face shining above +him in the dim light of the fire he stretched his limbs +luxuriously and obedient to her desire, he spoke slowly + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 143 + +and hardly above his breath. She, with her head close +to his lips, listened absorbed, interested, in attentive +immobility. The many noises of the great courtyard +were hushed up gradually by the sleep that stilled all +voices and closed all eyes. Then somebody droned +out a song with a nasal drawl at the end of every verse. +He stirred. She put her hand suddenly on his lips and +sat upright. There was a feeble coughing, a rustle of +leaves, and then a complete silence took possession of +the land; a silence cold, mournful, profound; more like +death than peace; more hard to bear than the fiercest +tumult. As soon as she removed her hand he hastened +to speak, so insupportable to him was that stillness +perfect and absolute in which his thoughts seemed to +ring with the loudness of shouts. + "Who was there making that noise?" he asked. + "I do not know. He is gone now," she answered, +hastily. "Tell me, you will not return to your people; +not without me. Not with me. Do you promise?" + "I have promised already. I have no people of my +own. Have I not told you, that you are everybody to +me?" + "Ah, yes," she said, slowly, "but I like to hear you +say that again--every day, and every night, whenever +I ask; and never to be angry because I ask. I am afraid +of white women who are shameless and have fierce eyes." + She scanned his features close for a moment and added: + "Are they very beautiful? They must be." + "I do not know," he whispered, thoughtfully. "And +if I ever did know, looking at you I have forgotten." + "Forgotten! And for three days and two nights you +have forgotten me also! Why? Why were you angry +with me when I spoke at first of Tuan Abdulla, in the +days when we lived beside the brook? You remembered +somebody then. Somebody in the land whence you + + +144 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +come. Your tongue is false. You are white indeed, +and your heart is full of deception. I know it. And +yet I cannot help believing you when you talk of your +love for me. But I am afraid!" + He felt flattered and annoyed by her vehemence, +and said-- + "Well, I am with you now. I did come back. And +it was you that went away." + "When you have helped Abdulla against the Rajah +Laut, who is the first of white men, I shall not be afraid +any more," she whispered. + "You must believe what I say when I tell you that +there never was another woman; that there is nothing +for me to regret, and nothing but my enemies to re- +member." + "Where do you come from?" she said, impulsive +and inconsequent, in a passionate whisper. "What +is that land beyond the great sea from which you come? +A land of lies and of evil from which nothing but mis- +fortune ever comes to us--who are not white. Did you +not at first ask me to go there with you? That is why +I went away." + "I shall never ask you again." + "And there is no woman waiting for you there?" + "No!" said Willems, firmly. + She bent over him. Her lips hovered above his face +and her long hair brushed his cheeks. + "You taught me the love of your people which is +of the Devil," she murmured, and bending still lower, +she said faintly, "Like this?" + "Yes, like this!" he answered very low, in a voice +that trembled slightly with eagerness; and she pressed +suddenly her lips to his while he closed his eyes in an +ecstasy of delight. + There was a long interval of silence. She stroked + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 145 + +his head with gentle touches, and he lay dreamily, +perfectly happy but for the annoyance of an indistinct +vision of a well-known figure; a man going away from +him and diminishing in a long perspective of fantastic +trees, whose every leaf was an eye looking after that +man, who walked away growing smaller, but never +getting out of sight for all his steady progress. He felt +a desire to see him vanish, a hurried impatience of his +disappearance, and he watched for it with a careful +and irksome effort. There was something familiar +about that figure. Why! Himself! He gave a sud- +den start and opened his eyes, quivering with the emo- +tion of that quick return from so far, of finding himself +back by the fire with the rapidity of a flash of lightning. +It had been half a dream; he had slumbered in her arms +for a few seconds. Only the beginning of a dream-- +nothing more. But it was some time before he re- +covered from the shock of seeing himself go away so +deliberately, so definitely, so unguardedly; and going +away--where? Now, if he had not woke up in time he +would never have come back again from there; from +whatever place he was going to. He felt indignant. +It was like an evasion, like a prisoner breaking his +parole--that thing slinking off stealthily while he slept. +He was very indignant, and was also astonished at the +absurdity of his own emotions. + She felt him tremble, and murmuring tender words, +pressed his head to her breast. Again he felt very +peaceful with a peace that was as complete as the +silence round them. He muttered-- + "You are tired, Aissa." + She answered so low that it was like a sigh shaped +into faint words. + "I shall watch your sleep, O child!" + He lay very quiet, and listened to the beating of her + + + +146 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +heart. That sound, light, rapid, persistent, and steady; +her very life beating against his cheek, gave him a clear +perception of secure ownership, strengthened his belief +in his possession of that human being, was like an as- +surance of the vague felicity of the future. There were +no regrets, no doubts, no hesitation now. Had there +ever been? All that seemed far away, ages ago--as +unreal and pale as the fading memory of some delirium. +All the anguish, suffering, strife of the past days; the +humiliation and anger of his downfall; all that was an +infamous nightmare, a thing born in sleep to be for- +gotten and leave no trace--and true life was this: this +dreamy immobility with his head against her heart +that beat so steadily. + He was broad awake now, with that tingling wake- +fulness of the tired body which succeeds to the few +refreshing seconds of irresistible sleep, and his wide- +open eyes looked absently at the doorway of Omar's +hut. The reed walls glistened in the light of the fire, +the smoke of which, thin and blue, drifted slanting in +a succession of rings and spirals across the doorway, +whose empty blackness seemed to him impenetrable +and enigmatical like a curtain hiding vast spaces full +of unexpected surprises. This was only his fancy, +but it was absorbing enough to make him accept the +sudden appearance of a head, coming out of the gloom, +as part of his idle fantasy or as the beginning of another +short dream, of another vagary of his overtired brain. +A face with drooping eyelids, old, thin, and yellow, +above the scattered white of a long beard that touched +the earth. A head without a body, only a foot above +the ground, turning slightly from side to side on the +edge of the circle of light as if to catch the radiating +heat of the fire on either cheek in succession. He +watched it in passive amazement, growing distinct, as + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 147 + +if coming nearer to him, and the confused outlines of +a body crawling on all fours came out, creeping inch +by inch towards the fire, with a silent and all but +imperceptible movement. He was astounded at the +appearance of that blind head dragging that crippled +body behind, without a sound, without a change in +the composure of the sightless face, which was plain +one second, blurred the next in the play of the light +that drew it to itself steadily. A mute face with a kriss +between its lips. This was no dream. Omar's face. +But why? What was he after? + He was too indolent in the happy languor of the +moment to answer the question. It darted through +his brain and passed out, leaving him free to listen +again to the beating of her heart; to that precious and +delicate sound which filled the quiet immensity of the +night. Glancing upwards he saw the motionless head +of the woman looking down at him in a tender gleam +of liquid white between the long eyelashes, whose +shadow rested on the soft curve of her cheek; and +under the caress of that look, the uneasy wonder and +the obscure fear of that apparition, crouching and +creeping in turns towards the fire that was its guide, +were lost--were drowned in the quietude of all his +senses, as pain is drowned in the flood of drowsy serenity +that follows upon a dose of opium. + He altered the position of his head by ever so little, +and now could see easily that apparition which he had +seen a minute before and had nearly forgotten already. +It had moved closer, gliding and noiseless like the +shadow of some nightmare, and now it was there, +very near, motionless and still as if listening; one hand +and one knee advanced; the neck stretched out and +the head turned full towards the fire. He could see +the emaciated face, the skin shiny over the prominent + + +148 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +bones, the black shadows of the hollow temples and +sunken cheeks, and the two patches of blackness over +the eyes, over those eyes that were dead and could not +see. What was the impulse which drove out this +blind cripple into the night to creep and crawl towards +that fire? He looked at him, fascinated, but the face, +with its shifting lights and shadows, let out nothing, +closed and impenetrable like a walled door. + Omar raised himself to a kneeling posture and sank +on his heels, with his hands hanging down before him. +Willems, looking out of his dreamy numbness, could +see plainly the kriss between the thin lips, a bar across +the face; the handle on one side where the polished +wood caught a red gleam from the fire and the thin +line of the blade running to a dull black point on the +other. He felt an inward shock, which left his body +passive in Aissa's embrace, but filled his breast with a +tumult of powerless fear; and he perceived suddenly +that it was his own death that was groping towards +him; that it was the hate of himself and the hate of +her love for him which drove this helpless wreck of a +once brilliant and resolute pirate, to attempt a des- +perate deed that would be the glorious and supreme +consolation of an unhappy old age. And while he +looked, paralyzed with dread, at the father who had +resumed his cautious advance--blind like fate, per- +sistent like destiny--he listened with greedy eagerness +to the heart of the daughter beating light, rapid, and +steady against his head. + He was in the grip of horrible fear; of a fear whose +cold hand robs its victim of all will and of all power; +of all wish to escape, to resist, or to move; which +destroys hope and despair alike, and holds the empty +and useless carcass as if in a vise under the coming +stroke. It was not the fear of death--he had faced + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 149 + +danger before--it was not even the fear of that par- +ticular form of death. It was not the fear of the end, +for he knew that the end would not come then. A +movement, a leap, a shout would save him from the +feeble hand of the blind old man, from that hand that +even now was, with cautious sweeps along the ground, +feeling for his body in the darkness. It was the un- +reasoning fear of this glimpse into the unknown things, +into those motives, impulses, desires he had ignored, +but that had lived in the breasts of despised men, close +by his side, and were revealed to him for a second, +to be hidden again behind the black mists of doubt +and deception. It was not death that frightened him: +it was the horror of bewildered life where he could +understand nothing and nobody round him; where +he could guide, control, comprehend nothing and no +one--not even himself. + He felt a touch on his side. That contact, lighter +than the caress of a mother's hand on the cheek of a +sleeping child, had for him the force of a crushing +blow. Omar had crept close, and now, kneeling above +him, held the kriss in one hand while the other skimmed +over his jacket up towards his breast in gentle touches; +but the blind face, still turned to the heat of the fire, +was set and immovable in its aspect of stony indif- +ference to things it could not hope to see. With an +effort Willems took his eyes off the deathlike mask +and turned them up to Aissa's head. She sat motion- +less as if she had been part of the sleeping earth, then +suddenly he saw her big sombre eyes open out wide in a +piercing stare and felt the convulsive pressure of her +hands pinning his arms along his body. A second +dragged itself out, slow and bitter, like a day of mourn- +ing; a second full of regret and grief for that faith in her +which took its flight from the shattered rums of his + + +150 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +trust. She was holding him! She too! He felt her +heart give a great leap, his head slipped down on her +knees, he closed his eyes and there was nothing. Noth- +ing! It was as if she had died; as though her heart had +leaped out into the night, abandoning him, defenceless +and alone, in an empty world. + His head struck the ground heavily as she flung him +aside in her sudden rush. He lay as if stunned, face +up and, daring not move, did not see the struggle, +but heard the piercing shriek of mad fear, her low +angry words; another shriek dying out in a moan. +When he got up at last he looked at Aissa kneeling +over her father, he saw her bent back in the effort +of holding him down, Omar's contorted limbs, a hand +thrown up above her head and her quick movement +grasping the wrist. He made an impulsive step for- +ward, but she turned a wild face to him and called +out over her shoulder-- + "Keep back! Do not come near! Do not. . . ." + And he stopped short, his arms hanging lifelessly +by his side, as if those words had changed him into +stone. She was afraid of his possible violence, but in +the unsettling of all his convictions he was struck +with the frightful thought that she preferred to kill +her father all by herself; and the last stage of their +struggle, at which he looked as though a red fog had +filled his eyes, loomed up with an unnatural ferocity, +with a sinister meaning; like something monstrous +and depraved, forcing its complicity upon him under +the cover of that awful night. He was horrified and +grateful; drawn irresistibly to her--and ready to run +away. He could not move at first--then he did not +want to stir. He wanted to see what would happen. +He saw her lift, with a tremendous effort, the appar- +ently lifeless body into the hut, and remained stand- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 151 + +ing, after they disappeared, with the vivid image in +his eyes of that head swaying on her shoulder, the +lower jaw hanging down, collapsed, passive, meaning- +less, like the head of a corpse. + Then after a while he heard her voice speaking +inside, harshly, with an agitated abruptness of tone; +and in answer there were groans and broken murmurs +of exhaustion. She spoke louder. He heard her saying +violently--"No! No! Never!" + And again a plaintive murmur of entreaty as of some +one begging for a supreme favour, with a last breath. +Then she said-- + "Never! I would sooner strike it into my own +heart." + She came out, stood panting for a short moment +in the doorway, and then stepped into the firelight. +Behind her, through the darkness came the sound of +words calling the vengeance of heaven on her head, +rising higher, shrill, strained, repeating the curse over +and over again--till the voice cracked in a passionate +shriek that died out into hoarse muttering ending with +a deep and prolonged sigh. She stood facing Willems, +one hand behind her back, the other raised in a gesture +compelling attention, and she listened in that attitude +till all was still inside the hut. Then she made another +step forward and her hand dropped slowly. + "Nothing but misfortune," she whispered, absently, +to herself. "Nothing but misfortune to us who are +not white." The anger and excitement died out of +her face, and she looked straight at Willems with an +intense and mournful gaze. + He recovered his senses and his power of speech +with a sudden start. + "Aissa," he exclaimed, and the words broke out +through his lips with hurried nervousness. "Aissa! + + +152 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +How can I live here? Trust me. Believe in me. Let +us go away from here. Go very far away! Very far; +you and I!" + He did not stop to ask himself whether he could +escape, and how, and where. He was carried away +by the flood of hate, disgust, and contempt of a white +man for that blood which is not his blood, for that +race which is not his race; for the brown skins; for +the hearts false like the sea, blacker than night. This +feeling of repulsion overmastered his reason in a clear +conviction of the impossibility for him to live with +her people. He urged her passionately to fly with +him because out of all that abhorred crowd he wanted +this one woman, but wanted her away from them, +away from that race of slaves and cut-throats from +which she sprang. He wanted her for himself--far +from everybody, in some safe and dumb solitude. And +as he spoke his anger and contempt rose, his hate be- +came almost fear; and his desire of her grew immense, +burning, illogical and merciless; crying to him through +all his senses; louder than his hate, stronger than his +fear, deeper than his contempt--irresistible and certain +like death itself. + Standing at a little distance, just within the light-- +but on the threshold of that darkness from which she +had come--she listened, one hand still behind her +back, the other arm stretched out with the hand half +open as if to catch the fleeting words that rang around +her, passionate, menacing, imploring, but all tinged +with the anguish of his suffering, all hurried by the +impatience that gnawed his breast. And while she +listened she felt a slowing down of her heart-beats +as the meaning of his appeal grew clearer before her +indignant eyes, as she saw with rage and pain the +edifice of her love, her own work, crumble slowly to + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 153 + +pieces, destroyed by that man's fears, by that man's +falseness. Her memory recalled the days by the +brook when she had listened to other words--to other +thoughts--to promises and to pleadings for other +things, which came from that man's lips at the bidding +of her look or her smile, at the nod of her head, at the +whisper of her lips. Was there then in his heart some- +thing else than her image, other desires than the desires +of her love, other fears than the fear of losing her? How +could that be? Had she grown ugly or old in a mo- +ment? She was appalled, surprised and angry with the +anger of unexpected humiliation; and her eyes looked +fixedly, sombre and steady, at that man born in the land +of violence and of evil wherefrom nothing but mis- +fortune comes to those who are not white. Instead +of thinking of her caresses, instead of forgetting all +the world in her embrace, he was thinking yet of +his people; of that people that steals every land, mas- +ters every sea, that knows no mercy and no truth-- +knows nothing but its own strength. O man of strong +arm and of false heart! Go with him to a far country, +be lost in the throng of cold eyes and false hearts-- +lose him there! Never! He was mad--mad with fear; +but he should not escape her! She would keep him here +a slave and a master; here where he was alone with her; +where he must live for her--or die. She had a right to +his love which was of her making, to the love that was +in him now, while he spoke those words without sense. +She must put between him and other white men a +barrier of hate. He must not only stay, but he must +also keep his promise to Abdulla, the fulfilment of +which would make her safe. + "Aissa, let us go! With you by my side I would +attack them with my naked hands. Or no! To- +morrow we shall be outside, on board Abdulla's ship. + + +154 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +You shall come with me and then I could . . . If +the ship went ashore by some chance, then we could +steal a canoe and escape in the confusion. . . . +You are not afraid of the sea . . . of the sea that +would give me freedom . . ." + He was approaching her gradually with extended +arms, while he pleaded ardently in incoherent words +that ran over and tripped each other in the extreme +eagerness of his speech. She stepped back, keeping +her distance, her eyes on his face, watching on it the +play of his doubts and of his hopes with a piercing +gaze, that seemed to search out the innermost recesses +of his thought; and it was as if she had drawn slowly +the darkness round her, wrapping herself in its un- +dulating folds that made her indistinct and vague. +He followed her step by step till at last they both +stopped, facing each other under the big tree of the +enclosure. The solitary exile of the forests, great, +motionless and solemn in his abandonment, left alone +by the life of ages that had been pushed away from +him by those pigmies that crept at his foot, towered +high and straight above their heads. He seemed to +look on, dispassionate and imposing, in his lonely +greatness, spreading his branches wide in a gesture +of lofty protection, as if to hide them in the sombre +shelter of innumerable leaves; as if moved by the +disdainful compassion of the strong, by the scornful +pity of an aged giant, to screen this struggle of two +human hearts from the cold scrutiny of glittering +stars. + The last cry of his appeal to her mercy rose loud, +vibrated under the sombre canopy, darted among the +boughs startling the white birds that slept wing to +wing--and died without an echo, strangled in the +dense mass of unstirring leaves. He could not see + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 155 + +her face, but he heard her sighs and the distracted +murmur of indistinct words. Then, as he listened +holding his breath, she exclaimed suddenly-- + "Have you heard him? He has cursed me because +I love you. You brought me suffering and strife-- +and his curse. And now you want to take me far +away where I would lose you, lose my life; because +your love is my life now. What else is there? Do +not move," she cried violently, as he stirred a little-- +"do not speak! Take this! Sleep in peace!" + He saw a shadowy movement of her arm. Some- +thing whizzed past and struck the ground behind +him, close to the fire. Instinctively he turned round +to look at it. A kriss without its sheath lay by the +embers; a sinuous dark object, looking like something +that had been alive and was now crushed, dead and +very inoffensive; a black wavy outline very distinct +and still in the dull red glow. Without thinking +he moved to pick it up, stooping with the sad and +humble movement of a beggar gathering the alms flung +into the dust of the roadside. Was this the answer +to his pleading, to the hot and living words that came +from his heart? Was this the answer thrown at him +like an insult, that thing made of wood and iron, in- +significant and venomous, fragile and deadly? He held +it by the blade and looked at the handle stupidly for a +moment before he let it fall again at his feet; and when +he turned round he faced only the night:--the night +immense, profound and quiet; a sea of darkness in +which she had disappeared without leaving a trace. + He moved forward with uncertain steps, putting out +both his hands before him with the anguish of a man +blinded suddenly. + "Aissa!" he cried--"come to me at once." + He peered and listened, but saw nothing, heard + + +156 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +nothing. After a while the solid blackness seemed to +wave before his eyes like a curtain disclosing move- +ments but hiding forms, and he heard light and hurried +footsteps, then the short clatter of the gate leading +to Lakamba's private enclosure. He sprang forward +and brought up against the rough timber in time to +hear the words, "Quick! Quick!" and the sound of +the wooden bar dropped on the other side, securing the +gate. With his arms thrown up, the palms against the +paling, he slid down in a heap on the ground. + "Aissa," he said, pleadingly, pressing his lips to a +chink between the stakes. "Aissa, do you hear me? +Come back! I will do what you want, give you all +you desire--if I have to set the whole Sambir on fire +and put that fire out with blood. Only come back. +Now! At once! Are you there? Do you hear me? +Aissa!" + On the other side there were startled whispers of +feminine voices; a frightened little laugh suddenly +interrupted; some woman's admiring murmur--"This +is brave talk!" Then after a short silence Aissa cried-- + "Sleep in peace--for the time of your going is near. +Now I am afraid of you. Afraid of your fear. When +you return with Tuan Abdulla you shall be great. +You will find me here. And there will be nothing but +love. Nothing else!--Always!--Till we die!" + He listened to the shuffle of footsteps going away, +and staggered to his feet, mute with the excess of his +passionate anger against that being so savage and so +charming; loathing her, himself, everybody he had +ever known; the earth, the sky, the very air he drew +into his oppressed chest; loathing it because it made him +live, loathing her because she made him suffer. But +he could not leave that gate through which she had +passed. He wandered a little way off, then swerved + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 157 + +round, came back and fell down again by the stockade +only to rise suddenly in another attempt to break away +from the spell that held him, that brought him back +there, dumb, obedient and furious. And under the im- +mobilized gesture of lofty protection in the branches +outspread wide above his head, under the high branches +where white birds slept wing to wing in the shelter of +countless leaves, he tossed like a grain of dust in a whirl- +wind--sinking and rising--round and round--always +near that gate. All through the languid stillness of +that night he fought with the impalpable; he fought +with the shadows, with the darkness, with the silence. +He fought without a sound, striking futile blows, dash- +ing from side to side; obstinate, hopeless, and always +beaten back; like a man bewitched within the invisible +sweep of a magic circle. + +[page intentionally blank] + + PART III + +[page intentionally blank] + + + + CHAPTER ONE + + "YES! Cat, dog, anything that can scratch or bite; +as long as it is harmful enough and mangy enough. +A sick tiger would make you happy--of all things. +A half-dead tiger that you could weep over and palm +upon some poor devil in your power, to tend and +nurse for you. Never mind the consequences--to the +poor devil. Let him be mangled or eaten up, of course! +You haven't any pity to spare for the victims of your +infernal charity. Not you! Your tender heart bleeds +only for what is poisonous and deadly. I curse the +day when you set your benevolent eyes on him. I +curse it . . ." + "Now then! Now then!" growled Lingard in his +moustache. Almayer, who had talked himself up to +the choking point, drew a long breath and went on-- + "Yes! It has been always so. Always. As far +back as I can remember. Don't you recollect? What +about that half-starved dog you brought on board in +Bankok in your arms. In your arms by . . . ! +It went mad next day and bit the serang. You don't +mean to say you have forgotten? The best serang +you ever had! You said so yourself while you were +helping us to lash him down to the chain-cable, just +before he died in his fits. Now, didn't you? Two +wives and ever so many children the man left. That +was your doing. . . . And when you went out of +your way and risked your ship to rescue some China- +men from a water-logged junk in Formosa Straits, +that was also a clever piece of business. Wasn't it? + +161 + + +162 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +Those damned Chinamen rose on you before forty- +eight hours. They were cut-throats, those poor +fishermen. You knew they were cut-throats before +you made up your mind to run down on a lee shore in +a gale of wind to save them. A mad trick! If they +hadn't been scoundrels--hopeless scoundrels--you +would not have put your ship in jeopardy for them, +I know. You would not have risked the lives of your +crew--that crew you loved so--and your own life. +Wasn't that foolish! And, besides, you were not +honest. Suppose you had been drowned? I would +have been in a pretty mess then, left alone here with +that adopted daughter of yours. Your duty was to +myself first. I married that girl because you promised +to make my fortune. You know you did! And then +three months afterwards you go and do that mad +trick--for a lot of Chinamen too. Chinamen! You +have no morality. I might have been ruined for +the sake of those murderous scoundrels that, after +all, had to be driven overboard after killing ever so +many of your crew--of your beloved crew! Do you +call that honest?" + "Well, well!" muttered Lingard, chewing nervously +the stump of his cheroot that had gone out and looking +at Almayer--who stamped wildly about the verandah +--much as a shepherd might look at a pet sheep in his +obedient flock turning unexpectedly upon him in en- +raged revolt. He seemed disconcerted, contemptu- +ously angry yet somewhat amused; and also a little +hurt as if at some bitter jest at his own expense. A1- +mayer stopped suddenly, and crossing his arms on +his breast, bent his body forward and went on speaking. + "I might have been left then in an awkward hole-- +all on account of your absurd disregard for your safety +--yet I bore no grudge. I knew your weaknesses. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 163 + +But now--when I think of it! Now we are ruined. +Ruined! Ruined! My poor little Nina. Ruined!" + He slapped his thighs smartly, walked with small +steps this way and that, seized a chair, planted it with +a bang before Lingard, and sat down staring at the +old seaman with haggard eyes. Lingard, returning +his stare steadily, dived slowly into various pockets, +fished out at last a box of matches and proceeded to +light his cheroot carefully, rolling it round and round +between his lips, without taking his gaze for a moment +off the distressed Almayer. Then from behind a cloud +of tobacco smoke he said calmly-- + "If you had been in trouble as often as I have, my +boy, you wouldn't carry on so. I have been ruined +more than once. Well, here I am." + "Yes, here you are," interrupted Almayer. "Much +good it is to me. Had you been here a month ago it +would have been of some use. But now! . . You +might as well be a thousand miles off." + "You scold like a drunken fish-wife," said Lingard, +serenely. He got up and moved slowly to the front +rail of the verandah. The floor shook and the whole +house vibrated under his heavy step. For a moment +he stood with his back to Almayer, looking out on the +river and forest of the east bank, then turned round +and gazed mildly down upon him. + "It's very lonely this morning here. Hey?" he said. + Almayer lifted up his head. + "Ah! you notice it--don't you? I should think +it is lonely! Yes, Captain Lingard, your day is over +in Sambir. Only a month ago this verandah would +have been full of people coming to greet you. Fellows +would be coming up those steps grinning and salaam- +ing--to you and to me. But our day is over. And +not by my fault either. You can't say that. It's all + +164 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +the doing of that pet rascal of yours. Ah! He is +a beauty! You should have seen him leading that +hellish crowd. You would have been proud of your +old favourite." + "Smart fellow that," muttered Lingard, thought- +fully. Almayer jumped up with a shriek. + "And that's all you have to say! Smart fellow! +O Lord!" + "Don't make a show of yourself. Sit down. Let's +talk quietly. I want to know all about it. So he led?" + "He was the soul of the whole thing. He piloted +Abdulla's ship in. He ordered everything and every- +body," said Almayer, who sat down again, with a +resigned air. + "When did it happen--exactly?" + "On the sixteenth I heard the first rumours of +Abdulla's ship being in the river; a thing I refused to +believe at first. Next day I could not doubt any more. +There was a great council held openly in Lakamba's +place where almost everybody in Sambir attended. +On the eighteenth the <i>Lord of the Isles</I> was anchored in +Sambir reach, abreast of my house. Let's see. Six +weeks to-day, exactly." + "And all that happened like this? All of a sudden. +You never heard anything--no warning. Nothing. +Never had an idea that something was up? Come, +Almayer!" + "Heard! Yes, I used to hear something every day. +Mostly lies. Is there anything else in Sambir?" + "You might not have believed them," observed +Lingard. "In fact you ought not to have believed +everything that was told to you, as if you had been a +green hand on his first voyage." + Almayer moved in his chair uneasily. + "That scoundrel came here one day," he said. "He + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 165 + +had been away from the house for a couple of months +living with that woman. I only heard about him now +and then from Patalolo's people when they came over. +Well one day, about noon, he appeared in this court- +yard, as if he had been jerked up from hell-where he +belongs." + Lingard took his cheroot out, and, with his mouth +full of white smoke that oozed out through his parted +lips, listened, attentive. After a short pause Almayer +went on, looking at the floor moodily-- + "I must say he looked awful. Had a bad bout of +the ague probably. The left shore is very unhealthy. +Strange that only the breadth of the river . . ." + He dropped off into deep thoughtfulness as if he had +forgotten his grievances in a bitter meditation upon +the unsanitary condition of the virgin forests on the +left bank. Lingard took this opportunity to expel +the smoke in a mighty expiration and threw the stump +of his cheroot over his shoulder. + "Go on," he said, after a while. "He came to see +you . . ." + "But it wasn't unhealthy enough to finish him, worse +luck!" went on Almayer, rousing himself, "and, as I +said, he turned up here with his brazen impudence. He +bullied me, he threatened vaguely. He wanted to scare +me, to blackmail me. Me! And, by heaven--he said +you would approve. You! Can you conceive such +impudence? I couldn't exactly make out what he was +driving at. Had I known, I would have approved him. +Yes! With a bang on the head. But how could I +guess that he knew enough to pilot a ship through the +entrance you always said was so difficult. And, after +all, that was the only danger. I could deal with any- +body here--but when Abdulla came. . . . That +barque of his is armed. He carries twelve brass six- + + +166 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +pounders, and about thirty men. Desperate beggars. +Sumatra men, from Deli and Acheen. Fight all day +and ask for more in the evening. That kind." + "I know, I know," said Lingard, impatiently. + "Of course, then, they were cheeky as much as you +please after he anchored abreast of our jetty. Willems +brought her up himself in the best berth. I could see +him from this verandah standing forward, together with +the half-caste master. And that woman was there too. +Close to him. I heard they took her on board off La- +kamba's place. Willems said he would not go higher +without her. Stormed and raged. Frightened them, +I believe. Abdulla had to interfere. She came off +alone in a canoe, and no sooner on deck than she fell +at his feet before all hands, embraced his knees, wept, +raved, begged his pardon. Why? I wonder. Every- +body in Sambir is talking of it. They never heard tell +or saw anything like it. I have all this from Ali, who +goes about in the settlement and brings me the news. +I had better know what is going on--hadn't I? From +what I can make out, they--he and that woman--are +looked upon as something mysterious--beyond compre- +hension. Some think them mad. They live alone +with an old woman in a house outside Lakamba's cam- +pong and are greatly respected--or feared, I should say +rather. At least, he is. He is very violent. She knows +nobody, sees nobody, will speak to nobody but him. +Never leaves him for a moment. It's the talk of the +place. There are other rumours. From what I hear I +suspect that Lakamba and Abdulla are tired of him. +There's also talk of him going away in the <i>Lord of the +Isles</I>--when she leaves here for the southward--as a +kind of Abdulla's agent. At any rate, he must take the +ship out. The half-caste is not equal to it as yet." + Lingard, who had listened absorbed till then, began + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 167 + +now to walk with measured steps. Almayer ceased +talking and followed him with his eyes as he paced +up and down with a quarter-deck swing, tormenting +and twisting his long white beard, his face perplexed +and thoughtful. + "So he came to you first of all, did he?" asked Lin- +gard, without stopping. + "Yes. I told you so. He did come. Came to +extort money, goods--I don't know what else. Wanted +to set up as a trader--the swine! I kicked his hat into +the courtyard, and he went after it, and that was the +last of him till he showed up with Abdulla. How could +I know that he could do harm in that way? Or in any +way at that! Any local rising I could put down easy +with my own men and with Patalolo's help." + "Oh! yes. Patalolo. No good. Eh? Did you try +him at all?" + "Didn't I!" exclaimed Almayer. "I went to see +him myself on the twelfth. That was four days before +Abdulla entered the river. In fact, same day Willems +tried to get at me. I did feel a little uneasy then. + Patalolo assured me that there was no human being that +did not love me in Sambir. Looked as wise as an owl. +Told me not to listen to the lies of wicked people from +down the river. He was alluding to that man Bulangi, +who lives up the sea reach, and who had sent me word +that a strange ship was anchored outside--which, of +course, I repeated to Patalolo. He would not believe. +Kept on mumbling 'No! No! No!' like an old parrot, +his head all of a tremble, all beslobbered with betel-nut +juice. I thought there was something queer about him. +Seemed so restless, and as if in a hurry to get rid of me. +Well. Next day that one-eyed malefactor who lives +with Lakamba--what's his name--Babalatchi, put in +an appearance here! Came about mid-day, casually + + +168 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +like, and stood there on this verandah chatting about +one thing and another. Asking when I expected you, +and so on. Then, incidentally, he mentioned that they +--his master and himself--were very much bothered +by a ferocious white man--my friend--who was hang- +ing about that woman--Omar's daughter. Asked my +advice. Very deferential and proper. I told him the +white man was not my friend, and that they had better +kick him out. Whereupon he went away salaaming, +and protesting his friendship and his master's goodwill. +Of course I know now the infernal nigger came to spy +and to talk over some of my men. Anyway, eight were +missing at the evening muster. Then I took alarm. +Did not dare to leave my house unguarded. You know +what my wife is, don't you? And I did not care to take +the child with me--it being late--so I sent a message to +Patalolo to say that we ought to consult; that there +were rumours and uneasiness in the settlement. Do +you know what answer I got?" + Lingard stopped short in his walk before Almayer, +who went on, after an impressive pause, with growing +animation. + "All brought it: 'The Rajah sends a friend's greeting, +and does not understand the message.' That was all. +Not a word more could Ali get out of him. I could see +that Ali was pretty well scared. He hung about, ar- +ranging my hammock--one thing and another. Then +just before going away he mentioned that the water- +gate of the Rajah's place was heavily barred, but that +he could see only very few men about the courtyard. +Finally he said, 'There is darkness in our Rajah's house, +but no sleep. Only darkness and fear and the wailing +of women.' Cheerful, wasn't it? It made me feel +cold down my back somehow. After Ali slipped away I +stood here--by this table, and listened to the shouting + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 169 + +and drumming in the settlement. Racket enough for +twenty weddings. It was a little past midnight then." + Again Almayer stopped in his narrative with an +abrupt shutting of lips, as if he had said all that there +was to tell, and Lingard stood staring at him, pensive +and silent. A big bluebottle fly flew in recklessly +into the cool verandah, and darted with loud buzzing +between the two men. Lingard struck at it with his +hat. The fly swerved, and Almayer dodged his head +out of the way. Then Lingard aimed another inef- +fectual blow; Almayer jumped up and waved his arms +about. The fly buzzed desperately, and the vibration +of minute wings sounded in the peace of the early morn- +ing like a far-off string orchestra accompanying the +hollow, determined stamping of the two men, who, with +heads thrown back and arms gyrating on high, or again +bending low with infuriated lunges, were intent upon +killing the intruder. But suddenly the buzz died out in +a thin thrill away in the open space of the courtyard, +leaving Lingard and Almayer standing face to face in the +fresh silence of the young day, looking very puzzled and +idle, their arms hanging uselessly by their sides--like +men disheartened by some portentous failure. + "Look at that!" muttered Lingard. "Got away +after all." + "Nuisance," said Almayer in the same tone. "River- +side is overrun with them. This house is badly placed +. . . mosquitos . . . and these big flies . . . +. last week stung Nina . . . been ill four days +. . . poor child. . . . I wonder what such +damned things are made for!" + + + + CHAPTER TWO + + AFTER a long silence, during which Almayer had +moved towards the table and sat down, his head be- +tween his hands, staring straight before him, Lin- +gard, who had recommenced walking, cleared his throat +and said-- + "What was it you were saying?" + "Ah! Yes! You should have seen this settlement +that night. I don't think anybody went to bed. I +walked down to the point, and could see them. They +had a big bonfire in the palm grove, and the talk went +on there till the morning. When I came back here +and sat in the dark verandah in this quiet house I felt +so frightfully lonely that I stole in and took the child out +of her cot and brought her here into my hammock. If +it hadn't been for her I am sure I would have gone mad; +I felt so utterly alone and helpless. Remember, I +hadn't heard from you for four months. Didn't know +whether you were alive or dead. Patalolo would have +nothing to do with me. My own men were deserting +me like rats do a sinking hulk. That was a black night +for me, Captain Lingard. A black night as I sat here +not knowing what would happen next. They were so +excited and rowdy that I really feared they would +come and burn the house over my head. I went and +brought my revolver. Laid it loaded on the table. +There were such awful yells now and then. Luckily +the child slept through it, and seeing her so pretty +and peaceful steadied me somehow. Couldn't believe +there was any violence in this world, looking at her + +170 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 171 + +lying so quiet and so unconscious of what went on. +But it was very hard. Everything was at an end. +You must understand that on that night there was no +government in Sambir. Nothing to restrain those +fellows. Patalolo had collapsed. I was abandoned by +my own people, and all that lot could vent their spite +on me if they wanted. They know no gratitude. +How many times haven't I saved this settlement from +starvation? Absolute starvation. Only three months +ago I distributed again a lot of rice on credit. There +was nothing to eat in this infernal place. They came +begging on their knees. There isn't a man in Sambir, +big or little, who is not in debt to Lingard & Co. Not +one. You ought to be satisfied. You always said that +was the right policy for us. Well, I carried it out. Ah! +Captain Lingard, a policy like that should be backed by +loaded rifles . . ." + "You had them!" exclaimed Lingard in the midst +of his promenade, that went on more rapid as Almayer +talked: the headlong tramp of a man hurrying on to do +something violent. The verandah was full of dust, +oppressive and choking, which rose under the old sea- +man's feet, and made Almayer cough again and +again. + "Yes, I had! Twenty. And not a finger to pull a +trigger. It's easy to talk," he spluttered, his face very +red. + Lingard dropped into a chair, and leaned back with +one hand stretched out at length upon the table, the +other thrown over the back of his seat. The dust +settled, and the sun surging above the forest flooded +the verandah with a clear light. Almayer got up and +busied himself in lowering the split rattan screens that +hung between the columns of the verandah. + "Phew!" said Lingard, "it will be a hot day. That's + + +172 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +right, my boy. Keep the sun out. We don't want to +be roasted alive here." + Almayer came back, sat down, and spoke very +calmly-- + "In the morning I went across to see Patalolo. I +took the child with me, of course. I found the water- +gate barred, and had to walk round through the bushes. +Patalolo received me lying on the floor, in the dark, +all the shutters closed. I could get nothing out of +him but lamentations and groans. He said you must +be dead. That Lakamba was coming now with Ab- +dulla's guns to kill everybody. Said he did not mind +being killed, as he was an old man, but that the wish of +his heart was to make a pilgrimage. He was tired of +men's ingratitude--he had no heirs--he wanted to go +to Mecca and die there. He would ask Abdulla to let +him go. Then he abused Lakamba--between sobs-- +and you, a little. You prevented him from asking for a +flag that would have been respected--he was right there +--and now when his enemies were strong he was weak, +and you were not there to help him. When I tried to +put some heart into him, telling him he had four big guns +--you know the brass six-pounders you left here last +year--and that I would get powder, and that, perhaps, +together we could make head against Lakamba, he +simply howled at me. No matter which way he turned +--he shrieked--the white men would be the death of +him, while he wanted only to be a pilgrim and be at +peace. My belief is," added Almayer, after a short +pause, and fixing a dull stare upon Lingard, "that the +old fool saw this thing coming for a long time, and was +not only too frightened to do anything himself, but +actually too scared to let you or me know of his sus- +picions. Another of your particular pets! Well! You +have a lucky hand, I must say!" + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 173 + + Lingard struck a sudden blow on the table with his +clenched hand. There was a sharp crack of splitting +wood. Almayer started up violently, then fell back in +his chair and looked at the table. + "There!" he said, moodily, "you don't know your +own strength. This table is completely ruined. The +only table I had been able to save from my wife. By +and by I will have to eat squatting on the floor like a +native." + Lingard laughed heartily. "Well then, don't nag +at me like a woman at a drunken husband!" He +became very serious after awhile, and added, "If it +hadn't been for the loss of the <i>Flash</I> I would have been +here three months ago, and all would have been well. +No use crying over that. Don't you be uneasy, Kas- +par. We will have everything ship-shape here in a +very short time." + "What? You don't mean to expel Abdulla out of +here by force! I tell you, you can't." + "Not I!" exclaimed Lingard. "That's all over, +I am afraid. Great pity. They will suffer for it. He +will squeeze them. Great pity. Damn it! I feel +so sorry for them if I had the <i>Flash</I> here I would try +force. Eh! Why not? However, the poor <i>Flash</I> is +gone, and there is an end of it. Poor old hooker. Hey, +Almayer? You made a voyage or two with me. Was- +n't she a sweet craft? Could make her do anything but +talk. She was better than a wife to me. Never +scolded. Hey? . . . And to think that it should +come to this. That I should leave her poor old bones +sticking on a reef as though I had been a damned fool of +a southern-going man who must have half a mile of +water under his keel to be safe! Well! well! It's only +those who do nothing that make no mistakes, I suppose. +But it's hard. Hard." + + + +174 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + He nodded sadly, with his eyes on the ground. Al- +mayer looked at him with growing indignation. + "Upon my word, you are heartless," he burst out; +"perfectly heartless--and selfish. It does not seem to +strike you--in all that--that in losing your ship--by +your recklessness, I am sure--you ruin me--us, and +my little Nina. What's going to become of me and +of her? That's what I want to know. You brought +me here, made me your partner, and now, when every- +thing is gone to the devil--through your fault, mind +you--you talk about your ship . . . ship! You +can get another. But here. This trade. That's +gone now, thanks to Willems. . . . Your dear +Willems!" + "Never you mind about Willems. I will look after +him," said Lingard, severely. "And as to the trade +. . . I will make your fortune yet, my boy. Never +fear. Have you got any cargo for the schooner that +brought me here?" + "The shed is full of rattans," answered Almayer, +"and I have about eighty tons of guttah in the well. +The last lot I ever will have, no doubt," he added, +bitterly. + "So, after all, there was no robbery. You've lost +nothing actually. Well, then, you must . . . +Hallo! What's the matter! . . . Here! . . ." + "Robbery! No!" screamed Almayer, throwing up +his hands. + He fell back in the chair and his face became purple. +A little white foam appeared on his lips and trickled +down his chin, while he lay back, showing the whites of +his upturned eyes. When he came to himself he saw +Lingard standing over him, with an empty water- +chatty in his hand. + "You had a fit of some kind," said the old seaman + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 175 + +with much concern. "What is it? You did give me a +fright. So very sudden." + Almayer, his hair all wet and stuck to his head, as +if he had been diving, sat up and gasped. + "Outrage! A fiendish outrage. I . . ." + Lingard put the chatty on the table and looked at +him in attentive silence. Almayer passed his hand +over his forehead and went on in an unsteady tone: + "When I remember that, I lose all control," he said. +"I told you he anchored Abdulla's ship abreast our jetty, +but over to the other shore, near the Rajah's place. +The ship was surrounded with boats. From here it +looked as if she had been landed on a raft. Every dug- +out in Sambir was there. Through my glass I could +distinguish the faces of people on the poop--Abdulla, +Willems, Lakamba--everybody. That old cringing +scoundrel Sahamin was there. I could see quite plain. +There seemed to be much talk and discussion. Finally +I saw a ship's boat lowered. Some Arab got into her, +and the boat went towards Patalolo's landing-place. +It seems they had been refused admittance--so they +say. I think myself that the water-gate was not un- +barred quick enough to please the exalted messenger. +At any rate I saw the boat come back almost directly. +I was looking on, rather interested, when I saw Willems +and some more go forward--very busy about some- +thing there. That woman was also amongst them. +Ah, that woman . . ." + Almayer choked, and seemed on the point of having +a relapse, but by a violent effort regained a comparative +composure. + "All of a sudden," he continued--"bang! They +fired a shot into Patalolo's gate, and before I had time +to catch my breath--I was startled, you may believe +--they sent another and burst the gate open. Where- + + +176 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +upon, I suppose, they thought they had done enough +for a while, and probably felt hungry, for a feast began +aft. Abdulla sat amongst them like an idol, cross- +legged, his hands on his lap. He's too great altogether +to eat when others do, but he presided, you see. Wil- +lems kept on dodging about forward, aloof from the +crowd, and looking at my house through the ship's +long glass. I could not resist it. I shook my fist at +him." + "Just so," said Lingard, gravely. "That was the +thing to do, of course. If you can't fight a man the +best thing is to exasperate him." + Almayer waved his hand in a superior manner, and +continued, unmoved: + "You may say what you like. You can't realize +my feelings. He saw me, and, with his eye still at +the small end of the glass, lifted his arm as if answer- +ing a hail. I thought my turn to be shot at would +come next after Patalolo, so I ran up the Union Jack +to the flagstaff in the yard. I had no other protection. +There were only three men besides Ali that stuck to me +--three cripples, for that matter, too sick to get away. +I would have fought singlehanded, I think, I was that +angry, but there was the child. What to do with her? +Couldn't send her up the river with the mother. You +know I can't trust my wife. I decided to keep very +quiet, but to let nobody land on our shore. Private +property, that; under a deed from Patalolo. I was +within my right--wasn't I? The morning was very +quiet. After they had a feed on board the barque with +Abdulla most of them went home; only the big people +remained. Towards three o'clock Sahamin crossed +alone in a small canoe. I went down on our wharf with +my gun to speak to him, but didn't let him land. The +old hypocrite said Abdulla sent greetings and wished to + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 177 + +talk with me on business; would I come on board? +I said no; I would not. Told him that Abdulla may +write and I would answer, but no interview, neither +on board his ship nor on shore. I also said that if +anybody attempted to land within my fences I would +shoot--no matter whom. On that he lifted his hands +to heaven, scandalized, and then paddled away pretty +smartly--to report, I suppose. An hour or so after- +wards I saw Willems land a boat party at the Rajah's. +It was very quiet. Not a shot was fired, and there +was hardly any shouting. They tumbled those brass +guns you presented to Patalolo last year down the +bank into the river. It's deep there close to. The +channel runs that way, you know. About five, Wil- +lems went back on board, and I saw him join Abdulla +by the wheel aft. He talked a lot, swinging his arms +about--seemed to explain things--pointed at my house, +then down the reach. Finally, just before sunset, they +hove upon the cable and dredged the ship down nearly +half a mile to the junction of the two branches of the +river--where she is now, as you might have seen." + Lingard nodded. + "That evening, after dark--I was informed-- +Abdulla landed for the first time in Sambir. He +was entertained in Sahamin's house. I sent Ali to +the settlement for news. He returned about nine, +and reported that Patalolo was sitting on Abdulla's +left hand before Sahamin's fire. There was a great +council. Ali seemed to think that Patalolo was a +prisoner, but he was wrong there. They did the +trick very neatly. Before midnight everything was +arranged as I can make out. Patalolo went back to +his demolished stockade, escorted by a dozen boats +with torches. It appears he begged Abdulla to let +him have a passage in the <i>Lord of the Isles</I> to Penang. + + +178 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +From there he would go to Mecca. The firing busi- +ness was alluded to as a mistake. No doubt it was in +a sense. Patalolo never meant resisting. So he is +going as soon as the ship is ready for sea. He went +on board next day with three women and half a dozen +fellows as old as himself. By Abdulla's orders he was +received with a salute of seven guns, and he has been +living on board ever since-five weeks. I doubt +whether he will leave the river alive. At any rate +he won't live to reach Penang. Lakamba took over +all his goods, and gave him a draft on Abdulla's house +payable in Penang. He is bound to die before he gets +there. Don't you see?" + He sat silent for a while in dejected meditation, then +went on: + "Of course there were several rows during the night. +Various fellows took the opportunity of the unsettled +state of affairs to pay off old scores and settle old +grudges. I passed the night in that chair there, dozing +uneasily. Now and then there would be a great tumult +and yelling which would make me sit up, revolver in +hand. However, nobody was killed. A few broken +heads--that's all. Early in the morning Willems +caused them to make a fresh move which I must say +surprised me not a little. As soon as there was daylight +they busied themselves in setting up a flag-pole on the +space at the other end of the settlement, where Abdulla +is having his houses built now. Shortly after sunrise +there was a great gathering at the flag-pole. All went +there. Willems was standing leaning against the mast, +one arm over that woman's shoulders. They had +brought an armchair for Patalolo, and Lakamba stood +on the right hand of the old man, who made a speech. +Everybody in Sambir was there: women, slaves, children +--everybody! Then Patalolo spoke. He said that by + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 179 + +the mercy of the Most High he was going on a pilgrim- +age. The dearest wish of his heart was to be accom- +plished. Then, turning to Lakamba, he begged him to +rule justly during his--Patalolo's--absence. There was +a bit of play-acting there. Lakamba said he was un- +worthy of the honourable burden, and Patalolo insisted. +Poor old fool! It must have been bitter to him. They +made him actually entreat that scoundrel. Fancy a +man compelled to beg of a robber to despoil him! +But the old Rajah was so frightened. Anyway, he did +it, and Lakamba accepted at last. Then Willems made +a speech to the crowd. Said that on his way to the west +the Rajah--he meant Patalolo--would see the Great +White Ruler in Batavia and obtain his protection for +Sambir. Meantime, he went on, I, an Orang Blanda +and your friend, hoist the flag under the shadow of +which there is safety. With that he ran up a Dutch +flag to the mast-head. It was made hurriedly, during +the night, of cotton stuffs, and, being heavy, hung down +the mast, while the crowd stared. Ali told me there +was a great sigh of surprise, but not a word was spoken +till Lakamba advanced and proclaimed in a loud voice +that during all that day every one passing by the +flagstaff must uncover his head and salaam before the +emblem." + "But, hang it all!" exclaimed Lingard--"Abdulla is +British!" + "Abdulla wasn't there at all--did not go on shore +that day. Yet Ali, who has his wits about him, no- +ticed that the space where the crowd stood was under +the guns of the <i>Lord of the Isles</I>. They had put a coir +warp ashore, and gave the barque a cant in the current, +so as to bring the broadside to bear on the flagstaff. +Clever! Eh? But nobody dreamt of resistance. When +they recovered from the surprise there was a little quiet + + +180 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +jeering; and Bahassoen abused Lakamba violently till +one of Lakamba's men hit him on the head with a staff. +Frightful crack, I am told. Then they left off jeering. +Meantime Patalolo went away, and Lakamba sat in the +chair at the foot of the flagstaff, while the crowd surged +around, as if they could not make up their minds to go. +Suddenly there was a great noise behind Lakamba's +chair. It was that woman, who went for Willems. Ali +says she was like a wild beast, but he twisted her wrist +and made her grovel in the dust. Nobody knows +exactly what it was about. Some say it was about that +flag. He carried her off, flung her into a canoe, and +went on board Abdulla's ship. After that Sahamin +was the first to salaam to the flag. Others followed +suit. Before noon everything was quiet in the settle- +ment, and Ali came back and told me all this." + Almayer drew a long breath. Lingard stretched out +his legs. + "Go on!" he said. + Almayer seemed to struggle with himself. At last +he spluttered out: + "The hardest is to tell yet. The most unheard-of +thing! An outrage! A fiendish outrage!" + + + + CHAPTER THREE + + "WELL! Let's know all about it. I can't imagine + . . ." began Lingard, after waiting for some time +in silence. + "Can't imagine! I should think you couldn't," +interrupted Almayer. "Why! . . . You just lis- +ten. When Ali came back I felt a little easier in my +mind. There was then some semblance of order in +Sambir. I had the Jack up since the morning and +began to feel safer. Some of my men turned up in the +afternoon. I did not ask any questions; set them to +work as if nothing had happened. Towards the even- +ing--it might have been five or half-past--I was on our +jetty with the child when I heard shouts at the far-off +end of the settlement. At first I didn't take much +notice. By and by Ali came to me and says, 'Master, +give me the child, there is much trouble in the settle- +ment.' So I gave him Nina and went in, took my re- +volver, and passed through the house into the back +courtyard. As I came down the steps I saw all the +serving girls clear out from the cooking shed, and I +heard a big crowd howling on the other side of the dry +ditch which is the limit of our ground. Could not see +them on account of the fringe of bushes along the ditch, +but I knew that crowd was angry and after somebody. +As I stood wondering, that Jim-Eng--you know the +Chinaman who settled here a couple of years ago?" + "He was my passenger; I brought him here," ex- +claimed Lingard. "A first-class Chinaman that." + "Did you? I had forgotten. Well, that Jim-Eng, + +181 + + +182 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +he burst through the bush and fell into my arms, so to +speak. He told me, panting, that they were after him +because he wouldn't take off his hat to the flag. He was +not so much scared, but he was very angry and indig- +nant. Of course he had to run for it; there were some +fifty men after him--Lakamba's friends--but he was +full of fight. Said he was an Englishman, and would +not take off his hat to any flag but English. I tried to +soothe him while the crowd was shouting on the other +side of the ditch. I told him he must take one of my +canoes and cross the river. Stop on the other side for a +couple of days. He wouldn't. Not he. He was +English, and he would fight the whole lot. Says he: +'They are only black fellows. We white men,' meaning +me and himself, 'can fight everybody in Sambir.' He +was mad with passion. The crowd quieted a little, and +I thought I could shelter Jim-Eng without much risk, +when all of a sudden I heard Willems' voice. He +shouted to me in English: 'Let four men enter your +compound to get that Chinaman!' I said nothing. +Told Jim-Eng to keep quiet too. Then after a while +Willems shouts again: 'Don't resist, Almayer. I give +you good advice. I am keeping this crowd back. +Don't resist them!' That beggar's voice enraged me; +I could not help it. I cried to him: 'You are a liar!' +and just then Jim-Eng, who had flung off his jacket and +had tucked up his trousers ready for a fight; just then +that fellow he snatches the revolver out of my hand and +lets fly at them through the bush. There was a sharp +cry--he must have hit somebody--and a great yell, +and before I could wink twice they were over the ditch +and through the bush and on top of us! Simply rolled +over us! There wasn't the slightest chance to resist. +I was trampled under foot, Jim-Eng got a dozen gashes +about his body, and we were carried halfway up the + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 183 + +yard in the first rush. My eyes and mouth were full +of dust; I was on my back with three or four fellows +sitting on me. I could hear Jim-Eng trying to shout +not very far from me. Now and then they would +throttle him and he would gurgle. I could hardly +breathe myself with two heavy fellows on my chest. +Willems came up running and ordered them to raise me +up, but to keep good hold. They led me into the +verandah. I looked round, but did not see either Ali +or the child. Felt easier. Struggled a little. . . . +Oh, my God!" + Almayer's face was distorted with a passing spasm +of rage. Lingard moved in his chair slightly. Al- +mayer went on after a short pause: + "They held me, shouting threats in my face. Wil- +lems took down my hammock and threw it to them. He +pulled out the drawer of this table, and found there a +palm and needle and some sail-twine. We were making +awnings for your brig, as you had asked me last voyage +before you left. He knew, of course, where to look for +what he wanted. By his orders they laid me out on +the floor, wrapped me in my hammock, and he started +to stitch me in, as if I had been a corpse, beginning at +the feet. While he worked he laughed wickedly. I +called him all the names I could think of. He told +them to put their dirty paws over my mouth and nose. +I was nearly choked. Whenever I moved they punched +me in the ribs. He went on taking fresh needlefuls as he +wanted them, and working steadily. Sewed me up to +my throat. Then he rose, saying, 'That will do; let +go.' That woman had been standing by; they must +have been reconciled. She clapped her hands. I lay +on the floor like a bale of goods while he stared at me, +and the woman shrieked with delight. Like a bale of +goods! There was a grin on every face, and the ve- + + +184 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +randah was full of them. I wished myself dead--'pon +my word, Captain Lingard, I did! I do now whenever +I think of it!" + Lingard's face expressed sympathetic indignation. +Almayer dropped his head upon his arms on the table, +and spoke in that position in an indistinct and muffled +voice, without looking up. + "Finally, by his directions, they flung me into the +big rocking-chair. I was sewed in so tight that I was +stiff like a piece of wood. He was giving orders in a +very loud voice, and that man Babalatchi saw that they +were executed. They obeyed him implicitly. Mean- +time I lay there in the chair like a log, and that woman +capered before me and made faces; snapped her fingers +before my nose. Women are bad!--ain't they? I +never saw her before, as far as I know. Never done +anything to her. Yet she was perfectly fiendish. +Can you understand it? Now and then she would +leave me alone to hang round his neck for awhile, +and then she would return before my chair and begin +her exercises again. He looked on, indulgent. The +perspiration ran down my face, got into my eyes--my +arms were sewn in. I was blinded half the time; at +times I could see better. She drags him before my +chair. 'I am like white women,' she says, her arms +round his neck. You should have seen the faces of +the fellows in the verandah! They were scandalized +and ashamed of themselves to see her behaviour. +Suddenly she asks him, alluding to me: 'When are you +going to kill him?' Imagine how I felt. I must have +swooned; I don't remember exactly. I fancy there was +a row; he was angry. When I got my wits again he was +sitting close to me, and she was gone. I understood +he sent her to my wife, who was hiding in the back room +and never came out during this affair. Willems says + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 185 + +to me--I fancy I can hear his voice, hoarse and dull-- +he says to me: 'Not a hair of your head shall be touched.' +I made no sound. Then he goes on: 'Please remark that +the flag you have hoisted--which, by the by, is not yours +--has been respected. Tell Captain Lingard so when +you do see him. But,' he says, 'you first fired at the +crowd.' 'You are a liar, you blackguard!' I shouted. +He winced, I am sure. It hurt him to see I was not +frightened. 'Anyways,' he says, 'a shot had been fired +out of your compound and a man was hit. Still, all +your property shall be respected on account of the +Union Jack. Moreover, I have no quarrel with Cap- +tain Lingard, who is the senior partner in this business. +As to you,' he continued, 'you will not forget this day-- +not if you live to be a hundred years old--or I don't +know your nature. You will keep the bitter taste of +this humiliation to the last day of your life, and so your +kindness to me shall be repaid. I shall remove all the +powder you have. This coast is under the protection +of the Netherlands, and you have no right to have any +powder. There are the Governor's Orders in Council +to that effect, and you know it. Tell me where the key +of the small storehouse is?' I said not a word, and he +waited a little, then rose, saying: 'It's your own fault +if there is any damage done.' He ordered Babalatchi +to have the lock of the office-room forced, and went in-- +rummaged amongst my drawers--could not find the +key. Then that woman Aissa asked my wife, and she +gave them the key. After awhile they tumbled every +barrel into the river. Eighty-three hundredweight! +He superintended himself, and saw every barrel roll +into the water. There were mutterings. Babalatchi +was angry and tried to expostulate, but he gave him a +good shaking. I must say he was perfectly fearless +with those fellows. Then he came back to the veran- + + +186 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +dah, sat down by me again, and says: 'We found your +man Ali with your little daughter hiding in the bushes +up the river. We brought them in. They are perfectly +safe, of course. Let me congratulate you, Almayer, +upon the cleverness of your child. She recognized me +at once, and cried "pig" as naturally as you would your- +self. Circumstances alter feelings. You should have +seen how frightened your man Ali was. Clapped his +hands over her mouth. I think you spoil her, Almayer. +But I am not angry. Really, you look so ridiculous in +this chair that I can't feel angry.' I made a frantic +effort to burst out of my hammock to get at that scoun- +drel's throat, but I only fell off and upset the chair over +myself. He laughed and said only: 'I leave you half of +your revolver cartridges and take half myself; they will +fit mine. We are both white men, and should back +each other up. I may want them.' I shouted at him +from under the chair: 'You are a thief,' but he never +looked, and went away, one hand round that woman's +waist, the other on Babalatchi's shoulder, to whom he +was talking--laying down the law about something or +other. In less than five minutes there was nobody +inside our fences. After awhile Ali came to look for +me and cut me free. I haven't seen Willems since-- +nor anybody else for that matter. I have been left +alone. I offered sixty dollars to the man who had +been wounded, which were accepted. They released +Jim-Eng the next day, when the flag had been hauled +down. He sent six cases of opium to me for safe +keeping but has not left his house. I think he is safe +enough now. Everything is very quiet." + Towards the end of his narrative Almayer lifted his +head off the table, and now sat back in his chair and +stared at the bamboo rafters of the roof above him. +Lingard lolled in his seat with his legs stretched out. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 187 + +In the peaceful gloom of the verandah, with its lowered +screens, they heard faint noises from the world outside +in the blazing sunshine: a hail on the river, the answer +from the shore, the creak of a pulley; sounds short, inter- +rupted, as if lost suddenly in the brilliance of noonday. +Lingard got up slowly, walked to the front rail, and +holding one of the screens aside, looked out in silence. +Over the water and the empty courtyard came a distinct +voice from a small schooner anchored abreast of the +Lingard jetty. + "Serang! Take a pull at the main peak halyards. +This gaff is down on the boom.'' + There was a shrill pipe dying in long-drawn cadence, +the song of the men swinging on the rope. The voice +said sharply: "That will do!" Another voice--the +serang's probably--shouted: "Ikat!" and as Lingard +dropped the blind and turned away all was silent again, +as if there had been nothing on the other side of the +swaying screen; nothing but the light, brilliant, crude, +heavy, lying on a dead land like a pall of fire. Lingard +sat down again, facing Almayer, his elbow on the table, +in a thoughtful attitude. + "Nice little schooner," muttered Almayer, wearily. +"Did you buy her?" + "No," answered Lingard. "After I lost the <i>Flash</I> we +got to Palembang in our boats. I chartered her there, +for six months. From young Ford, you know. Belongs +to him. He wanted a spell ashore, so I took charge my- +self. Of course all Ford's people on board. Strangers +to me. I had to go to Singapore about the insurance; +then I went to Macassar, of course. Had long pas- +sages. No wind. It was like a curse on me. I had lots +of trouble with old Hudig. That delayed me much." + "Ah! Hudig! Why with Hudig?" asked Almayer, +in a perfunctory manner. + + +188 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Oh! about a . . . a woman," mumbled Lin- +gard. + Almayer looked at him with languid surprise. The +old seaman had twisted his white beard into a point, +and now was busy giving his moustaches a fierce curl. +His little red eyes--those eyes that had smarted under +the salt sprays of every sea, that had looked unwinking +to windward in the gales of all latitudes--now glared +at Almayer from behind the lowered eyebrows like a +pair of frightened wild beasts crouching in a bush. + "Extraordinary! So like you! What can you have +to do with Hudig's women? The old sinner!" said Al- +mayer, negligently. + "What are you talking about! Wife of a friend of +. . . I mean of a man I know . . ." + "Still, I don't see . . ." interjected Almayer care- +lessly. + "Of a man you know too. Well. Very well." + "I knew so many men before you made me bury +myself in this hole!" growled Almayer, unamiably. +"If she had anything to do with Hudig--that wife-- +then she can't be up to much. I would be sorry for +the man," added Almayer, brightening up with the +recollection of the scandalous tittle-tattle of the past, +when he was a young man in the second capital of +the Islands--and so well informed, so well informed. +He laughed. Lingard's frown deepened. + "Don't talk foolish! It's Willems' wife." + Almayer grasped the sides of his seat, his eyes and +mouth opened wide. + "What? Why!" he exclaimed, bewildered. + "Willems'--wife," repeated Lingard distinctly. +"You ain't deaf, are you? The wife of Willems. +Just so. As to why! There was a promise. And I +did not know what had happened here." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 189 + + "What is it. You've been giving her money, I bet," +cried Almayer. + "Well, no!" said Lingard, deliberately. "Although +I suppose I shall have to . . ." + Almayer groaned. + "The fact is," went on Lingard, speaking slowly +and steadily, "the fact is that I have . . . I have +brought her here. Here. To Sambir." + "In heaven's name! why?" shouted Almayer, jump- +ing up. The chair tilted and fell slowly over. He +raised his clasped hands above his head and brought +them down jerkily, separating his fingers with an effort, +as if tearing them apart. Lingard nodded, quickly, +several times. + "I have. Awkward. Hey?" he said, with a puzzled +look upwards. + "Upon my word," said Almayer, tearfully. "I +can't understand you at all. What will you do next! +Willems' wife!" + "Wife and child. Small boy, you know. They are +on board the schooner." + Almayer looked at Lingard with sudden suspicion, +then turning away busied himself in picking up the +chair, sat down in it turning his back upon the old sea- +man, and tried to whistle, but gave it up directly. Lin- +gard went on-- + "Fact is, the fellow got into trouble with Hudig. +Worked upon my feelings. I promised to arrange +matters. I did. With much trouble. Hudig was +angry with her for wishing to join her husband. Un- +principled old fellow. You know she is his daughter. +Well, I said I would see her through it all right; help +Willems to a fresh start and so on. I spoke to Craig in +Palembang. He is getting on in years, and wanted a +manager or partner. I promised to guarantee Willems' + + +190 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +good behaviour. We settled all that. Craig is an old +crony of mine. Been shipmates in the forties. He's +waiting for him now. A pretty mess! What do you +think?" + Almayer shrugged his shoulders. + "That woman broke with Hudig on my assurance +that all would be well," went on Lingard, with grow- +ing dismay. "She did. Proper thing, of course. +Wife, husband . . . together . . . as it should be +. . . Smart fellow . . . Impossible scoundrel +. . . Jolly old go! Oh! damn!" + Almayer laughed spitefully. + "How delighted he will be," he said, softly. "You +will make two people happy. Two at least!" He +laughed again, while Lingard looked at his shaking +shoulders in consternation. + "I am jammed on a lee shore this time, if ever I +was," muttered Lingard. + "Send her back quick," suggested Almayer, stifling +another laugh. + "What are you sniggering at?" growled Lingard, +angrily. "I'll work it out all clear yet. Meantime +you must receive her into this house." + "My house!" cried Almayer, turning round. + "It's mine too--a little isn't it?" said Lingard. +"Don't argue," he shouted, as Almayer opened his +mouth. "Obey orders and hold your tongue!" + "Oh! If you take it in that tone!" mumbled Al- +mayer, sulkily, with a gesture of assent. + "You are so aggravating too, my boy," said the old +seaman, with unexpected placidity "You must give +me time to turn round. I can't keep her on board all +the time. I must tell her something. Say, for instance, +that he is gone up the river. Expected back every +day. That's it. D'ye hear? You must put her on + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 191 + +that tack and dodge her along easy, while I take the +kinks out of the situation. By God!" he exclaimed, +mournfully, after a short pause, "life is foul! Foul like +a lee forebrace on a dirty night. And yet. And yet. +One must see it clear for running before going below-- +for good. Now you attend to what I said," he added, +sharply, "if you don't want to quarrel with me, my +boy." + "I don't want to quarrel with you," murmured +Almayer with unwilling deference. "Only I wish I +could understand you. I know you are my best +friend, Captain Lingard; only, upon my word, I can't +make you out sometimes! I wish I could . . ." + Lingard burst into a loud laugh which ended shortly +in a deep sigh. He closed his eyes, tilting his head over +the back of his armchair; and on his face, baked by the +unclouded suns of many hard years, there appeared for +a moment a weariness and a look of age which startled +Almayer, like an unexpected disclosure of evil. + "I am done up," said Lingard, gently. "Perfectly +done up. All night on deck getting that schooner up +the river. Then talking with you. Seems to me I +could go to sleep on a clothes-line. I should like to eat +something though. Just see about that, Kaspar." + Almayer clapped his hands, and receiving no response +was going to call, when in the central passage of the +house, behind the red curtain of the doorway opening +upon the verandah, they heard a child's imperious voice +speaking shrilly. + "Take me up at once. I want to be carried into the +verandah. I shall be very angry. Take me up." + A man's voice answered, subdued, in humble re- +monstrance. The faces of Almayer and Lingard bright- +ened at once. The old seaman called out-- + "Bring the child. Lekas!" + + +192 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "You will see how she has grown," exclaimed Al- +mayer, in a jubilant tone. + Through the curtained doorway Ali appeared with +little Nina Almayer in his arms. The child had one +arm round his neck, and with the other she hugged a +ripe pumelo nearly as big as her own head. Her little +pink, sleeveless robe had half slipped off her shoulders, +but the long black hair, that framed her olive face, +in which the big black eyes looked out in childish +solemnity, fell in luxuriant profusion over her shoulders, +all round her and over Ali's arms, like a close-meshed +and delicate net of silken threads. Lingard got up +to meet Ali, and as soon as she caught sight of the +old seaman she dropped the fruit and put out both +her hands with a cry of delight. He took her from +the Malay, and she laid hold of his moustaches with +an affectionate goodwill that brought unaccustomed +tears into his little red eyes. + "Not so hard, little one, not so hard," he mur- +mured, pressing with an enormous hand, that covered +it entirely, the child's head to his face. + "Pick up my pumelo, O Rajah of the sea!" she said, +speaking in a high-pitched, clear voice with great +volubility. "There, under the table. I want it quick! +Quick! You have been away fighting with many men. +Ali says so. You are a mighty fighter. Ali says so. +On the great sea far away, away, away." + She waved her hand, staring with dreamy vacancy, +while Lingard looked at her, and squatting down +groped under the table after the pumelo. + "Where does she get those notions?" said Lingard, +getting up cautiously, to Almayer, who had been giving +orders to Ali. + "She is always with the men. Many a time I've +found her with her fingers in their rice dish, of an + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 193 + +evening. She does not care for her mother though-- +I am glad to say. How pretty she is--and so sharp. +My very image!" + Lingard had put the child on the table, and both men +stood looking at her with radiant faces. + "A perfect little woman," whispered Lingard. "Yes, +my dear boy, we shall make her somebody. You'll +see!" + "Very little chance of that now," remarked Almayer, +sadly. + "You do not know!" exclaimed Lingard, taking up +the child again, and beginning to walk up and down the +verandah. "I have my plans. I have--listen." + And he began to explain to the interested Almayer +his plans for the future. He would interview Abdulla +and Lakamba. There must be some understanding +with those fellows now they had the upper hand. +Here he interrupted himself to swear freely, while the +child, who had been diligently fumbling about his neck, +had found his whistle and blew a loud blast now and +then close to his ear--which made him wince and +laugh as he put her hands down, scolding her lovingly. +Yes--that would be easily settled. He was a man to +be reckoned with yet. Nobody knew that better than +Almayer. Very well. Then he must patiently try and +keep some little trade together. It would be all right. +But the great thing--and here Lingard spoke lower, +bringing himself to a sudden standstill before the en- +tranced Almayer--the great thing would be the gold +hunt up the river. He--Lingard--would devote him- +self to it. He had been in the interior before. There +were immense deposits of alluvial gold there. Fabulous. +He felt sure. Had seen places. Dangerous work? Of +course! But what a reward! He would explore--and +find. Not a shadow of doubt. Hang the danger! + + +194 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +They would first get as much as they could for them- +selves. Keep the thing quiet. Then after a time form +a Company. In Batavia or in England. Yes, in +England. Much better. Splendid! Why, of course. +And that baby would be the richest woman in the +world. He--Lingard--would not, perhaps, see it-- +although he felt good for many years yet--but Almayer +would. Here was something to live for yet! Hey? + But the richest woman in the world had been for the +last five minutes shouting shrilly--"Rajah Laut! +Rajah Laut! Hai! Give ear!" while the old +seaman had been speaking louder, unconsciously, to +make his deep bass heard above the impatient clamour. +He stopped now and said tenderly-- + "What is it, little woman?" + "I am not a little woman. I am a white child. +Anak Putih. A white child; and the white men are +my brothers. Father says so. And Ali says so too. +Ali knows as much as father. Everything." + Almayer almost danced with paternal delight. + "I taught her. I taught her," he repeated, laughing +with tears in his eyes. "Isn't she sharp?" + "I am the slave of the white child," said Lingard, +with playful solemnity. "What is the order?" + "I want a house," she warbled, with great eager- +ness. "I want a house, and another house on the +roof, and another on the roof--high. High! Like +the places where they dwell--my brothers--in the +land where the sun sleeps." + "To the westward," explained Almayer, under his +breath. "She remembers everything. She wants you +to build a house of cards. You did, last time you were +here." + Lingard sat down with the child on his knees, and +Almayer pulled out violently one drawer after another, + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 195 + +looking for the cards, as if the fate of the world de- +pended upon his haste. He produced a dirty double +pack which was only used during Lingard's visit to +Sambir, when he would sometimes play--of an evening +--with Almayer, a game which he called Chinese +bezique. It bored Almayer, but the old seaman de- +lighted in it, considering it a remarkable product of +Chinese genius--a race for which he had an unac- +countable liking and admiration. + "Now we will get on, my little pearl," he said, +putting together with extreme precaution two cards +that looked absurdly flimsy between his big fingers. +Little Nina watched him with intense seriousness as +he went on erecting the ground floor, while he con- +tinued to speak to Almayer with his head over his +shoulder so as not to endanger the structure with +his breath. + "I know what I am talking about. . . . Been in +California in forty-nine. . . . Not that I made +much . . . then in Victoria in the early days. +. . . I know all about it. Trust me. Moreover a +blind man could . . . Be quiet, little sister, or you +will knock this affair down. . . . My hand pretty +steady yet! Hey, Kaspar? . . . Now, delight of +my heart, we shall put a third house on the top of these +two . . . keep very quiet. . . . As I was +saying, you got only to stoop and gather handfuls of +gold . . . dust . . . there. Now here we +are. Three houses on top of one another. Grand!" + He leaned back in his chair, one hand on the child's +head, which he smoothed mechanically, and gesticu- +lated with the other, speaking to Almayer. + "Once on the spot, there would be only the trouble +to pick up the stuff. Then we shall all go to Europe. +The child must be educated. We shall be rich. Rich + + +196 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +is no name for it. Down in Devonshire where I +belong, there was a fellow who built a house near +Teignmouth which had as many windows as a three- +decker has ports. Made all his money somewhere out +here in the good old days. People around said he had +been a pirate. We boys--I was a boy in a Brixham +trawler then--certainly believed that. He went +about in a bath-chair in his grounds. Had a glass +eye . . ." + "Higher, Higher!" called out Nina, pulling the +old seaman's beard. + "You do worry me--don't you?" said Lingard, +gently, giving her a tender kiss. "What? One +more house on top of all these? Well! I will try." + The child watched him breathlessly. When the +difficult feat was accomplished she clapped her hands, +looked on steadily, and after a while gave a great sigh +of content. + "Oh! Look out!" shouted Almayer. + The structure collapsed suddenly before the child's +light breath. Lingard looked discomposed for a +moment. Almayer laughed, but the little girl began +to cry. + "Take her," said the old seaman, abruptly. Then, +after Almayer went away with the crying child, he +remained sitting by the table, looking gloomily at the +heap of cards. + "Damn this Willems," he muttered to himself. +"But I will do it yet!" + He got up, and with an angry push of his hand swept +the cards off the table. Then he fell back in his chair. + "Tired as a dog," he sighed out, closing his eyes. + + + + CHAPTER FOUR + + CONSCIOUSLY or unconsciously, men are proud of +their firmness, steadfastness of purpose, directness of +aim. They go straight towards their desire, to the +accomplishment of virtue--sometimes of crime--in an +uplifting persuasion of their firmness. They walk +the road of life, the road fenced in by their tastes, +prejudices, disdains or enthusiasms, generally honest, +invariably stupid, and are proud of never losing their +way. If they do stop, it is to look for a moment over +the hedges that make them safe, to look at the misty +valleys, at the distant peaks, at cliffs and morasses, at +the dark forests and the hazy plains where other human +beings grope their days painfully away, stumbling over +the bones of the wise, over the unburied remains of their +predecessors who died alone, in gloom or in sunshine, +halfway from anywhere. The man of purpose does +not understand, and goes on, full of contempt. He +never loses his way. He knows where he is going +and what he wants. Travelling on, he achieves great +length without any breadth, and battered, besmirched, +and weary, he touches the goal at last; he grasps the +reward of his perseverance, of his virtue, of his healthy +optimism: an untruthful tombstone over a dark and +soon forgotten grave. + Lingard had never hesitated in his life. Why +should he? He had been a most successful trader, +and a man lucky in his fights, skilful in navigation, +undeniably first in seamanship in those seas. He +knew it. Had he not heard the voice of common + +197 + + +198 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +consent? The voice of the world that respected him +so much; the whole world to him--for to us the limits +of the universe are strictly defined by those we know. +There is nothing for us outside the babble of praise +and blame on familiar lips, and beyond our last ac- +quaintance there lies only a vast chaos; a chaos of +laughter and tears which concerns us not; laughter +and tears unpleasant, wicked, morbid, contemptible-- +because heard imperfectly by ears rebellious to strange +sounds. To Lingard--simple himself--all things +were simple. He seldom read. Books were not +much in his way, and he had to work hard navigating, +trading, and also, in obedience to his benevolent +instincts, shaping stray lives he found here and there +under his busy hand. He remembered the Sunday- +school teachings of his native village and the dis- +courses of the black-coated gentleman connected with +the Mission to Fishermen and Seamen, whose yawl- +rigged boat darting through rain-squalls amongst the +coasters wind-bound in Falmouth Bay, was part of +those precious pictures of his youthful days that +lingered in his memory. "As clever a sky-pilot as +you could wish to see," he would say with conviction, +"and the best man to handle a boat in any weather I +ever did meet!" Such were the agencies that had +roughly shaped his young soul before he went away to +see the world in a southern-going ship--before he +went, ignorant and happy, heavy of hand, pure in +heart, profane in speech, to give himself up to the +great sea that took his life and gave him his fortune. +When thinking of his rise in the world--commander +of ships, then shipowner, then a man of much capital, +respected wherever he went, Lingard in a word, the +Rajah Laut--he was amazed and awed by his fate, +that seemed to his ill-informed mind the most won- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 199 + +drous known in the annals of men. His experience +appeared to him immense and conclusive, teaching +him the lesson of the simplicity of life. In life--as in +seamanship--there were only two ways of doing a +thing: the right way and the wrong way. Common +sense and experience taught a man the way that was +right. The other was for lubbers and fools, and led, +in seamanship, to loss of spars and sails or shipwreck; +in life, to loss of money and consideration, or to an +unlucky knock on the head. He did not consider it +his duty to be angry with rascals. He was only angry +with things he could not understand, but for the +weaknesses of humanity he could find a contemptuous +tolerance. It being manifest that he was wise and +lucky--otherwise how could he have been as successful +in life as he had been?--he had an inclination to set +right the lives of other people, just as he could hardly +refrain--in defiance of nautical etiquette--from in- +terfering with his chief officer when the crew was sending +up a new topmast, or generally when busy about, what +he called, "a heavy job." He was meddlesome with +perfect modesty; if he knew a thing or two there was +no merit in it. "Hard knocks taught me wisdom, my +boy," he used to say, "and you had better take the +advice of a man who has been a fool in his time. Have +another." And "my boy" as a rule took the cool +drink, the advice, and the consequent help which Lin- +gard felt himself bound in honour to give, so as to back +up his opinion like an honest man. Captain Tom went +sailing from island to island, appearing unexpectedly +in various localities, beaming, noisy, anecdotal, com- +mendatory or comminatory, but always welcome. + It was only since his return to Sambir that the old +seaman had for the first time known doubt and un- +happiness, The loss of the <i>Flash</i>--planted firmly + + +200 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +and for ever on a ledge of rock at the north end of +Gaspar Straits in the uncertain light of a cloudy morn- +ing--shook him considerably; and the amazing news +which he heard on his arrival in Sambir were not made +to soothe his feelings. A good many years ago-- +prompted by his love of adventure--he, with infinite +trouble, had found out and surveyed--for his own +benefit only--the entrances to that river, where, +he had heard through native report, a new settlement +of Malays was forming. No doubt he thought at the +time mostly of personal gain; but, received with hearty +friendliness by Patalolo, he soon came to like the ruler +and the people, offered his counsel and his help, and-- +knowing nothing of Arcadia--he dreamed of Arcadian +happiness for that little corner of the world which he +loved to think all his own. His deep-seated and +immovable conviction that only he--he, Lingard-- +knew what was good for them was characteristic of him. +and, after all, not so very far wrong. He would make +them happy whether or no, he said, and he meant it. +His trade brought prosperity to the young state, and +the fear of his heavy hand secured its internal peace for +many years. + He looked proudly upon his work. With every +passing year he loved more the land, the people, the +muddy river that, if he could help it, would carry no +other craft but the <i>Flash</i> on its unclean and friendly +surface. As he slowly warped his vessel up-stream he +would scan with knowing looks the riverside clearings, +and pronounce solemn judgment upon the prospects of +the season's rice-crop. He knew every settler on the +banks between the sea and Sambir; he knew their +wives, their children; he knew every individual of +the multi-coloured groups that, standing on the flimsy +platforms of tiny reed dwellings built over the water, + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 201 + +waved their hands and shouted shrilly: "O! Kapal +layer! Hai!" while the <i>Flash</i> swept slowly through +the populated reach, to enter the lonely stretches of +sparkling brown water bordered by the dense and +silent forest, whose big trees nodded their outspread +boughs gently in the faint, warm breeze--as if in sign +of tender but melancholy welcome. He loved it all: +the landscape of brown golds and brilliant emeralds +under the dome of hot sapphire; the whispering big +trees; the loquacious nipa-palms that rattled their +leaves volubly in the night breeze, as if in haste to +tell him all the secrets of the great forest behind them. +He loved the heavy scents of blossoms and black earth, +that breath of life and of death which lingered over +his brig in the damp air of tepid and peaceful nights. +He loved the narrow and sombre creeks, strangers to +sunshine: black, smooth, tortuous--like byways of +despair. He liked even the troops of sorrowful-faced +monkeys that profaned the quiet spots with capricious +gambols and insane gestures of inhuman madness. +He loved everything there, animated or inanimated; +the very mud of the riverside; the very alligators, +enormous and stolid, basking on it with impertinent +unconcern. Their size was a source of pride to him. +"Immense fellows! Make two of them Palembang +reptiles! I tell you, old man!" he would shout, poking +some crony of his playfully in the ribs: "I tell you, +big as you are, they could swallow you in one gulp, +hat, boots and all! Magnificent beggars! Wouldn't +you like to see them? Wouldn't you! Ha! ha! +ha!" His thunderous laughter filled the verandah, +rolled over the hotel garden, overflowed into the +street, paralyzing for a short moment the noiseless traffic +of bare brown feet; and its loud reverberations would +even startle the landlord's tame bird--a shame- + + +202 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +less mynah--into a momentary propriety of behaviour +under the nearest chair. In the big billiard-room +perspiring men in thin cotton singlets would stop the +game, listen, cue in hand, for a while through the +open windows, then nod their moist faces at each +other sagaciously and whisper: "The old fellow is +talking about his river." + His river! The whispers of curious men, the mystery +of the thing, were to Lingard a source of never-ending +delight. The common talk of ignorance exaggerated +the profits of his queer monopoly, and, although +strictly truthful in general, he liked, on that matter, to +mislead speculation still further by boasts full of cold +raillery. His river! By it he was not only rich--he +was interesting. This secret of his which made him +different to the other traders of those seas gave inti- +mate satisfaction to that desire for singularity which +he shared with the rest of mankind, without being +aware of its presence within his breast. It was the +greater part of his happiness, but he only knew it +after its loss, so unforeseen, so sudden and so cruel. + After his conversation with Almayer he went on +board the schooner, sent Joanna on shore, and shut +himself up in his cabin, feeling very unwell. He +made the most of his indisposition to Almayer, who +came to visit him twice a day. It was an excuse for +doing nothing just yet. He wanted to think. He +was very angry. Angry with himself, with Willems. +Angry at what Willems had done--and also angry at +what he had left undone. The scoundrel was not +complete. The conception was perfect, but the execu- +tion, unaccountably, fell short. Why? He ought to +have cut Almayer's throat and burnt the place to +ashes--then cleared out. Got out of his way; of him, +Lingard! Yet he didn't. Was it impudence, con- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 203 + +tempt--or what? He felt hurt at the implied dis- +respect of his power, and the incomplete rascality +of the proceeding disturbed him exceedingly. There +was something short, something wanting, something +that would have given him a free hand in the work of +retribution. The obvious, the right thing to do, was +to shoot Willems. Yet how could he? Had the +fellow resisted, showed fight, or ran away; had he +shown any consciousness of harm done, it would have +been more possible, more natural. But no! The +fellow actually had sent him a message. Wanted to +see him. What for? The thing could not be +explained. An unexampled, cold-blooded treachery, +awful, incomprehensible. Why did he do it? Why? +Why? The old seaman in the stuffy solitude of his +little cabin on board the schooner groaned out many +times that question, striking with an open palm his +perplexed forehead. + During his four days of seclusion he had received +two messages from the outer world; from that world +of Sambir which had, so suddenly and so finally, +slipped from his grasp. One, a few words from Willems +written on a torn-out page of a small notebook; the +other, a communication from Abdulla caligraphed +carefully on a large sheet of flimsy paper and delivered +to him in a green silk wrapper. The first he could not +understand. It said: "Come and see me. I am not +afraid. Are you? W." He tore it up angrily, but +before the small bits of dirty paper had the time to +flutter down and settle on the floor, the anger was gone +and was replaced by a sentiment that induced him to +go on his knees, pick up the fragments of the torn +message, piece it together on the top of his chronometer +box, and contemplate it long and thoughtfully, as if he +had hoped to read the answer of the horrible riddle in + + +204 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +the very form of the letters that went to make up that +fresh insult. Abdulla's letter he read carefully and +rammed it into his pocket, also with anger, but with +anger that ended in a half-resigned, half-amused smile. +He would never give in as long as there was a chance. +"It's generally the safest way to stick to the ship as +long as she will swim," was one of his favourite sayings: +"The safest and the right way. To abandon a craft +because it leaks is easy--but poor work. Poor work!" +Yet he was intelligent enough to know when he was +beaten, and to accept the situation like a man, without +repining. When Almayer came on board that after- +noon he handed him the letter without comment. + Almayer read it, returned it in silence, and leaning +over the taffrail (the two men were on deck) looked +down for some time at the play of the eddies round +the schooner's rudder. At last he said without looking +up-- + "That's a decent enough letter. Abdulla gives him +up to you. I told you they were getting sick of him. +What are you going to do?" + Lingard cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, opened +his mouth with great determination, but said nothing +for a while. At last he murmured-- + "I'll be hanged if I know--just yet." + "I wish you would do something soon . . ." + "What's the hurry?" interrupted Lingard. "He +can't get away. As it stands he is at my mercy, as far +as I can see." + "Yes," said Almayer, reflectively--"and very little +mercy he deserves too. Abdulla's meaning--as I can +make it out amongst all those compliments--is: 'Get +rid for me of that white man--and we shall live in peace +and share the trade."' + "You believe that?" asked Lingard, contemptuously. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 205 + + "Not altogether," answered Almayer. "No doubt +we will share the trade for a time--till he can grab the +lot. Well, what are you going to do?" + He looked up as he spoke and was surprised to see +Lingard's discomposed face. + "You ain't well. Pain anywhere?" he asked, with +real solicitude. + "I have been queer--you know--these last few days, +but no pain." He struck his broad chest several +times, cleared his throat with a powerful "Hem!" +and repeated: "No. No pain. Good for a few +years yet. But I am bothered with all this, I can tell +you!" + "You must take care of yourself," said Almayer. +Then after a pause he added: "You will see Abdulla. +Won't you?" + "I don't know. Not yet. There's plenty of time," +said Lingard, impatiently. + "I wish you would do something," urged Almayer, +moodily. "You know, that woman is a perfect +nuisance to me. She and her brat! Yelps all day. +And the children don't get on together. Yesterday +the little devil wanted to fight with my Nina. +Scratched her face, too. A perfect savage! Like his +honourable papa. Yes, really. She worries about her +husband, and whimpers from morning to night. When +she isn't weeping she is furious with me. Yesterday +she tormented me to tell her when he would be back +and cried because he was engaged in such dangerous +work. I said something about it being all right--no +necessity to make a fool of herself, when she turned upon +me like a wild cat. Called me a brute, selfish, heartless; +raved about her beloved Peter risking his life for my +benefit, while I did not care. Said I took advantage of +his generous good-nature to get him to do dangerous + + +206 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +work--my work. That he was worth twenty of +the likes of me. That she would tell you--open +your eyes as to the kind of man I was, and so on. +That's what I've got to put up with for your sake. +You really might consider me a little. I haven't +robbed anybody," went on Almayer, with an attempt +at bitter irony--"or sold my best friend, but still +you ought to have some pity on me. It's like living +in a hot fever. She is out of her wits. You make +my house a refuge for scoundrels and lunatics. It +isn't fair. 'Pon my word it isn't! When she is +in her tantrums she is ridiculously ugly and screeches +so--it sets my teeth on edge. Thank God! my +wife got a fit of the sulks and cleared out of the house. +Lives in a riverside hut since that affair--you know. +But this Willems' wife by herself is almost more than I +can bear. And I ask myself why should I? You +are exacting and no mistake. This morning I thought +she was going to claw me. Only think! She wanted +to go prancing about the settlement. She might have +heard something there, so I told her she mustn't. It +wasn't safe outside our fences, I said. Thereupon she +rushes at me with her ten nails up to my eyes. 'You +miserable man,' she yells, 'even this place is not safe, +and you've sent him up this awful river where he may +lose his head. If he dies before forgiving me, Heaven +will punish you for your crime . . .' My crime! I +ask myself sometimes whether I am dreaming! It will +make me ill, all this. I've lost my appetite already." + He flung his hat on deck and laid hold of his hair +despairingly. Lingard looked at him with concern. + "What did she mean by it?" he muttered, thought- +fully. + "Mean! She is crazy, I tell you--and I will be, very +soon, if this lasts!" + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 207 + + "Just a little patience, Kaspar," pleaded Lingard. +"A day or so more." + Relieved or tired by his violent outburst, Almayer +calmed down, picked up his hat and, leaning against +the bulwark, commenced to fan himself with it. + "Days do pass," he said, resignedly--"but that +kind of thing makes a man old before his time. What +is there to think about?--I can't imagine! Abdulla +says plainly that if you undertake to pilot his ship out +and instruct the half-caste, he will drop Willems like +a hot potato and be your friend ever after. I believe +him perfectly, as to Willems. It's so natural. As to +being your friend it's a lie of course, but we need not +bother about that just yet. You just say yes to Ab- +dulla, and then whatever happens to Willems will be +nobody's business." + He interrupted himself and remained silent for a +while, glaring about with set teeth and dilated nostrils. + "You leave it to me. I'll see to it that something +happens to him," he said at last, with calm ferocity. +Lingard smiled faintly. + "The fellow isn't worth a shot. Not the trouble +of it," he whispered, as if to himself. Almayer fired +up suddenly. + "That's what you think," he cried. "You haven't +been sewn up in your hammock to be made a laughing- +stock of before a parcel of savages. Why! I daren't +look anybody here in the face while that scoundrel is +alive. I will . . . I will settle him." + "I don't think you will," growled Lingard. + "Do you think I am afraid of him?" + "Bless you! no!" said Lingard with alacrity. +"Afraid! Not you. I know you. I don't doubt +your courage. It's your head, my boy, your head +that I . . ." + + +208 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "That's it," said the aggrieved Almayer. "Go +on. Why don't you call me a fool at once?" + "Because I don't want to," burst out Lingard, +with nervous irritability. "If I wanted to call you +a fool, I would do so without asking your leave." +He began to walk athwart the narrow quarter-deck, +kicking ropes' ends out of his way and growling to +himself: "Delicate gentleman . . . what next? +. . . I've done man's work before you could toddle. +Understand . . . say what I like." + "Well! well!" said Almayer, with affected resignation. +"There's no talking to you these last few days." He +put on his hat, strolled to the gangway and stopped, +one foot on the little inside ladder, as if hesitating, +came back and planted himself in Lingard's way, +compelling him to stand still and listen. + "Of course you will do what you like. You never +take advice--I know that; but let me tell you that +it wouldn't be honest to let that fellow get away +from here. If you do nothing, that scoundrel will +leave in Abdulla's ship for sure. Abdulla will make +use of him to hurt you and others elsewhere. Willems +knows too much about your affairs. He will cause you +lots of trouble. You mark my words. Lots of trouble. +To you--and to others perhaps. Think of that, +Captain Lingard. That's all I've got to say. Now +I must go back on shore. There's lots of work. We +will begin loading this schooner to-morrow morning, +first thing. All the bundles are ready. If you should +want me for anything, hoist some kind of flag on the +mainmast. At night two shots will fetch me." Then +he added, in a friendly tone, "Won't you come and dine +in the house to-night? It can't be good for you to stew +on board like that, day after day." + Lingard did not answer. The image evoked by + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 209 + +Almayer; the picture of Willems ranging over the +islands and disturbing the harmony of the universe +by robbery, treachery, and violence, held him silent, +entranced--painfully spellbound. Almayer, after wait- +ing for a little while, moved reluctantly towards the +gangway, lingered there, then sighed and got over the +side, going down step by step. His head disappeared +slowly below the rail. Lingard, who had been staring +at him absently, started suddenly, ran to the side, and +looking over, called out-- + "Hey! Kaspar! Hold on a bit!" + Almayer signed to his boatmen to cease paddling, +and turned his head towards the schooner. The +boat drifted back slowly abreast of Lingard, nearly +alongside. + "Look here," said Lingard, looking down--"I +want a good canoe with four men to-day." + "Do you want it now?" asked Almayer. + "No! Catch this rope. Oh, you clumsy devil! +. . . No, Kaspar," went on Lingard, after the bow- +man had got hold of the end of the brace he had thrown +down into the canoe--"No, Kaspar. The sun is too +much for me. And it would be better to keep my affairs +quiet, too. Send the canoe--four good paddlers, +mind, and your canvas chair for me to sit in. Send it +about sunset. D'ye hear?" + "All right, father," said Almayer, cheerfully--"I +will send Ali for a steersman, and the best men I've +got. Anything else?" + "No, my lad. Only don't let them be late." + "I suppose it's no use asking you where you are +going," said Almayer, tentatively. "Because if it is +to see Abdulla, I . . ." + "I am not going to see Abdulla. Not to-day. Now +be off with you." + + +210 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + He watched the canoe dart away shorewards, waved +his hand in response to Almayer's nod, and walked +to the taffrail smoothing out Abdulla's letter, which +he had pulled out of his pocket. He read it over +carefully, crumpled it up slowly, smiling the while +and closing his fingers firmly over the crackling paper +as though he had hold there of Abdulla's throat. Half- +way to his pocket he changed his mind, and flinging +the ball overboard looked at it thoughtfully as it spun +round in the eddies for a moment, before the current +bore it away down-stream, towards the sea. + + + + PART IV + +[page intentionally blank] + + + CHAPTER ONE + + THE night was very dark. For the first time in +many months the East Coast slept unseen by the stars +under a veil of motionless cloud that, driven before +the first breath of the rainy monsoon, had drifted +slowly from the eastward all the afternoon; pursuing +the declining sun with its masses of black and grey +that seemed to chase the light with wicked intent, +and with an ominous and gloomy steadiness, as though +conscious of the message of violence and turmoil they +carried. At the sun's disappearance below the western +horizon, the immense cloud, in quickened motion, +grappled with the glow of retreating light, and rolling +down to the clear and jagged outline of the distant +mountains, hung arrested above the steaming forests; +hanging low, silent and menacing over the unstirring +tree-tops; withholding the blessing of rain, nursing +the wrath of its thunder; undecided--as if brooding +over its own power for good or for evil. + Babalatchi, coming out of the red and smoky light +of his little bamboo house, glanced upwards, drew in +a long breath of the warm and stagnant air, and stood +for a moment with his good eye closed tightly, as if +intimidated by the unwonted and deep silence of +Lakamba's courtyard. When he opened his eye he +had recovered his sight so far, that he could dis- +tinguish the various degrees of formless blackness +which marked the places of trees, of abandoned houses, +of riverside bushes, on the dark background of the +night. The careworn sage walked cautiously down + +213 + + +214 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +the deserted courtyard to the waterside, and stood +on the bank listening to the voice of the invisible +river that flowed at his feet; listening to the soft +whispers, to the deep murmurs, to the sudden gurgles +and the short hisses of the swift current racing along +the bank through the hot darkness. + He stood with his face turned to the river, and it +seemed to him that he could breathe easier with the +knowledge of the clear vast space before him; then, +after a while he leaned heavily forward on his staff, +his chin fell on his breast, and a deep sigh was his +answer to the selfish discourse of the river that hurried +on unceasing and fast, regardless of joy or sorrow, of +suffering and of strife, of failures and triumphs that +lived on its banks. The brown water was there, +ready to carry friends or enemies, to nurse love or hate +on its submissive and heartless bosom, to help or to +hinder, to save life or give death; the great and rapid +river: a deliverance, a prison, a refuge or a grave. + Perchance such thoughts as these caused Babalatchi +to send another mournful sigh into the trailing mists +of the unconcerned Pantai. The barbarous politician +had forgotten the recent success of his plottings in the +melancholy contemplation of a sorrow that made the +night blacker, the clammy heat more oppressive, the +still air more heavy, the dumb solitude more signifi- +cant of torment than of peace. He had spent the night +before by the side of the dying Omar, and now, after +twenty-four hours, his memory persisted in returning +to that low and sombre reed hut from which the fierce +spirit of the incomparably accomplished pirate took its +flight, to learn too late, in a worse world, the error of its +earthly ways. The mind of the savage statesman, +chastened by bereavement, felt for a moment the weight +of his loneliness with keen perception worthy even of a + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 215 + +sensibility exasperated by all the refinements of tender +sentiment that a glorious civilization brings in its train, +among other blessings and virtues, into this excellent +world. For the space of about thirty seconds, a half- +naked, betel-chewing pessimist stood upon the bank of +the tropical river, on the edge of the still and immense +forests; a man angry, powerless, empty-handed, with +a cry of bitter discontent ready on his lips; a cry +that, had it come out, would have rung through the +virgin solitudes of the woods, as true, as great, as pro- +found, as any philosophical shriek that ever came +from the depths of an easy-chair to disturb the impure +wilderness of chimneys and roofs. + For half a minute and no more did Babalatchi face +the gods in the sublime privilege of his revolt, and +then the one-eyed puller of wires became himself +again, full of care and wisdom and far-reaching plans, +and a victim to the tormenting superstitions of his +race. The night, no matter how quiet, is never per- +fectly silent to attentive ears, and now Babalatchi +fancied he could detect in it other noises than those +caused by the ripples and eddies of the river. He +turned his head sharply to the right and to the left in +succession, and then spun round quickly in a startled +and watchful manner, as if he had expected to see the +blind ghost of his departed leader wandering in the +obscurity of the empty courtyard behind his back. +Nothing there. Yet he had heard a noise; a strange +noise! No doubt a ghostly voice of a complaining +and angry spirit. He listened. Not a sound. Re- +assured, Babalatchi made a few paces towards his +house, when a very human noise, that of hoarse cough- +ing, reached him from the river. He stopped, listened +attentively, but now without any sign of emotion, and +moving briskly back to the waterside stood expectant + + +216 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +with parted lips, trying to pierce with his eye the waver- +ing curtain of mist that hung low over the water. +He could see nothing, yet some people in a canoe must +have been very near, for he heard words spoken in an +ordinary tone. + "Do you think this is the place, Ali? I can see +nothing." + "It must be near here, Tuan," answered another +voice. "Shall we try the bank?" + "No! . . . Let drift a little. If you go poking +into the bank in the dark you might stove the canoe +on some log. We must be careful. . . . Let drift! +Let drift! . . . This does seem to be a clearing of +some sort. We may see a light by and by from some +house or other. In Lakamba's campong there are +many houses? Hey?" + "A great number, Tuan . . . I do not see any +light." + "Nor I," grumbled the first voice again, this time +nearly abreast of the silent Babalatchi who looked +uneasily towards his own house, the doorway of which +glowed with the dim light of a torch burning within. +The house stood end on to the river, and its doorway +faced down-stream, so Babalatchi reasoned rapidly +that the strangers on the river could not see the light +from the position their boat was in at the moment. +He could not make up his mind to call out to them, +and while he hesitated he heard the voices again, but +now some way below the landing-place where he stood. + "Nothing. This cannot be it. Let them give +way, Ali! Dayong there!" + That order was followed by the splash of paddles, +then a sudden cry-- + "I see a light. I see it! Now I know where to +land, Tuan." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 217 + + There was more splashing as the canoe was paddled +sharply round and came back up-stream close to the +bank. + "Call out," said very near a deep voice, which +Babalatchi felt sure must belong to a white man. +"Call out--and somebody may come with a torch. +I can't see anything." + The loud hail that succeeded these words was +emitted nearly under the silent listener's nose. Baba- +latchi, to preserve appearances, ran with long but noise- +less strides halfway up the courtyard, and only then +shouted in answer and kept on shouting as he walked +slowly back again towards the river bank. He saw +there an indistinct shape of a boat, not quite along- +side the landing-place. + "Who speaks on the river?" asked Babalatchi, +throwing a tone of surprise into his question. + "A white man," answered Lingard from the canoe. +"Is there not one torch in rich Lakamba's campong +to light a guest on his landing?" + "There are no torches and no men. I am alone +here," said Babalatchi, with some hesitation. + "Alone!" exclaimed Lingard. "Who are you?" + "Only a servant of Lakamba. But land, Tuan +Putih, and see my face. Here is my hand. No! +Here! . . . By your mercy. . . . Ada! . . . +Now you are safe." + "And you are alone here?" said Lingard, moving +with precaution a few steps into the courtyard. "How +dark it is," he muttered to himself--"one would think +the world had been painted black." + "Yes. Alone. What more did you say, Tuan? +I did not understand your talk." + "It is nothing. I expected to find here . . . +But where are they all?" + + +218 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "What matters where they are?" said Babalatchi, +gloomily. "Have you come to see my people? The +last departed on a long journey--and I am alone. To- +morrow I go too." + "I came to see a white man," said Lingard, walking +on slowly. "He is not gone, is he?" + "No!" answered Babalatchi, at his elbow. "A +man with a red skin and hard eyes," he went on, +musingly, "whose hand is strong, and whose heart +is foolish and weak. A white man indeed . . . +But still a man." + They were now at the foot of the short ladder which +led to the split-bamboo platform surrounding Baba- +latchi's habitation. The faint light from the door- +way fell down upon the two men's faces as they stood +looking at each other curiously. + "Is he there?" asked Lingard, in a low voice, with +a wave of his hand upwards. + Babalatchi, staring hard at his long-expected visitor, +did not answer at once. + "No, not there," he said at last, placing his foot +on the lowest rung and looking back. "Not there, +Tuan--yet not very far. Will you sit down in my +dwelling? There may be rice and fish and clear +water--not from the river, but from a spring . . ." + "I am not hungry," interrupted Lingard, curtly, +and I did not come here to sit in your dwelling. +Lead me to the white man who expects me. I have +no time to lose." + "The night is long, Tuan," went on Babalatchi, +softly, "and there are other nights and other days. +Long. Very long . . . How much time it takes +for a man to die! O Rajah Laut!" + Lingard started. + "You know me!" he exclaimed. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 219 + + "Ay--wa! I have seen your face and felt your +hand before--many years ago," said Babalatchi, +holding on halfway up the ladder, and bending down +from above to peer into Lingard's upturned face. +"You do not remember--but I have not forgotten. +There are many men like me: there is only one Rajah +Laut." + He climbed with sudden agility the last few steps, +and stood on the platform waving his hand invitingly +to Lingard, who followed after a short moment of +indecision. + The elastic bamboo floor of the hut bent under the +heavy weight of the old seaman, who, standing within +the threshold, tried to look into the smoky gloom of +the low dwelling. Under the torch, thrust into the +cleft of a stick, fastened at a right angle to the middle +stay of the ridge pole, lay a red patch of light, showing +a few shabby mats and a corner of a big wooden chest +the rest of which was lost in shadow. In the obscurity +of the more remote parts of the house a lance-head, a +brass tray hung on the wall, the long barrel of a gun +leaning against the chest, caught the stray rays of the +smoky illumination in trembling gleams that wavered, +disappeared, reappeared, went out, came back--as if +engaged in a doubtful struggle with the darkness that, +lying in wait in distant corners, seemed to dart out +viciously towards its feeble enemy. The vast space +under the high pitch of the roof was filled with a thick +cloud of smoke, whose under-side--level like a ceiling-- +reflected the light of the swaying dull flame, while at +the top it oozed out through the imperfect thatch of +dried palm leaves. An indescribable and complicated +smell, made up of the exhalation of damp earth below, +of the taint of dried fish and of the effluvia of rotting +vegetable matter, pervaded the place and caused Lin- + + +220 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +gard to sniff strongly as he strode over, sat on the +chest, and, leaning his elbows on his knees, took his +head between his hands and stared at the doorway +thoughtfully. + Babalatchi moved about in the shadows, whispering +to an indistinct form or two that flitted about at the +far end of the hut. Without stirring Lingard glanced +sideways, and caught sight of muffled-up human shapes +that hovered for a moment near the edge of light and +retreated suddenly back into the darkness. Babalatchi +approached, and sat at Lingard's feet on a rolled-up +bundle of mats. + "Will you eat rice and drink sagueir?" he said. "I +have waked up my household." + "My friend," said Lingard, without looking at him, +"when I come to see Lakamba, or any of Lakamba's +servants, I am never hungry and never thirsty. Tau! +Savee! Never! Do you think I am devoid of reason? +That there is nothing there?" + He sat up, and, fixing abruptly his eyes on Baba- +latchi, tapped his own forehead significantly. + "Tse! Tse! Tse! How can you talk like that, +Tuan!" exclaimed Babalatchi, in a horrified tone. + "I talk as I think. I have lived many years," +said Lingard, stretching his arm negligently to take +up the gun, which he began to examine knowingly, +cocking it, and easing down the hammer several times. +"This is good. Mataram make. Old, too," he went on. + "Hai!" broke in Babalatchi, eagerly. "I got it +when I was young. He was an Aru trader, a man +with a big stomach and a loud voice, and brave--very +brave. When we came up with his prau in the grey +morning, he stood aft shouting to his men and fired +this gun at us once. Only once!" . . . He +paused, laughed softly, and went on in a low, dreamy + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 221 + +voice. "In the grey morning we came up: forty +silent men in a swift Sulu prau; and when the sun was +so high"--here he held up his hands about three feet +apart--"when the sun was only so high, Tuan, our +work was done--and there was a feast ready for the +fishes of the sea." + "Aye! aye!" muttered Lingard, nodding his head +slowly. "I see. You should not let it get rusty like +this," he added. + He let the gun fall between his knees, and moving +back on his seat, leaned his head against the wall of +the hut, crossing his arms on his breast. + "A good gun," went on Babalatchi. "Carry far +and true. Better than this--there." + With the tips of his fingers he touched gently the +butt of a revolver peeping out of the right pocket of +Lingard's white jacket. + "Take your hand off that," said Lingard sharply, but +in a good-humoured tone and without making the +slightest movement. + Babalatchi smiled and hitched his seat a little +further off. + For some time they sat in silence. Lingard, with +his head tilted back, looked downwards with lowered +eyelids at Babalatchi, who was tracing invisible lines +with his finger on the mat between his feet. Outside, +they could hear Ali and the other boatmen chattering +and laughing round the fire they had lighted in the big +and deserted courtyard. + "Well, what about that white man?" said Lingard, +quietly. + It seemed as if Babalatchi had not heard the ques- +tion. He went on tracing elaborate patterns on the +floor for a good while. Lingard waited motionless. +At last the Malay lifted his head. + + +222 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Hai! The white man. I know!" he murmured +absently. "This white man or another. . . . +Tuan," he said aloud with unexpected animation, +"you are a man of the sea?" + "You know me. Why ask?" said Lingard, in a +low tone. + "Yes. A man of the sea--even as we are. A +true Orang Laut," went on Babalatchi, thoughtfully, +"not like the rest of the white men." + "I am like other whites, and do not wish to speak +many words when the truth is short. I came here to +see the white man that helped Lakamba against Pata- +lolo, who is my friend. Show me where that white +man lives; I want him to hear my talk." + "Talk only? Tuan! Why hurry? The night is +long and death is swift--as you ought to know; you +who have dealt it to so many of my people. Many +years ago I have faced you, arms in hand. Do you +not remember? It was in Carimata--far from here." + I cannot remember every vagabond that came in +my way," protested Lingard, seriously. + "Hai! Hai!" continued Babalatchi, unmoved and +dreamy. "Many years ago. Then all this"--and +looking up suddenly at Lingard's beard, he flourished +his fingers below his own beardless chin--"then all +this was like gold in sunlight, now it is like the foam +of an angry sea." + "Maybe, maybe," said Lingard, patiently, paying +the involuntary tribute of a faint sigh to the memories +of the past evoked by Babalatchi's words. + He had been living with Malays so long and so +close that the extreme deliberation and deviousness of +their mental proceedings had ceased to irritate him +much. To-night, perhaps, he was less prone to im- +patience than ever. He was disposed, if not to listen + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 223 + +to Babalatchi, then to let him talk. It was evident +to him that the man had something to say, and he +hoped that from the talk a ray of light would shoot +through the thick blackness of inexplicable treachery, +to show him clearly--if only for a second--the man +upon whom he would have to execute the verdict of +justice. Justice only! Nothing was further from his +thoughts than such an useless thing as revenge. Jus- +tice only. It was his duty that justice should be done +--and by his own hand. He did not like to think how. +To him, as to Babalatchi, it seemed that the night would +be long enough for the work he had to do. But he +did not define to himself the nature of the work, and he +sat very still, and willingly dilatory, under the fearsome +oppression of his call. What was the good to think +about it? It was inevitable, and its time was near. +Yet he could not command his memories that came +crowding round him in that evil-smelling hut, while +Babalatchi talked on in a flowing monotone, nothing of +him moving but the lips, in the artificially inanimated +face. Lingard, like an anchored ship that had broken +her sheer, darted about here and there on the rapid tide +of his recollections. The subdued sound of soft words +rang around him, but his thoughts were lost, now in the +contemplation of the past sweetness and strife of Cari- +mata days, now in the uneasy wonder at the failure +of his judgment; at the fatal blindness of accident that +had caused him, many years ago, to rescue a half- +starved runaway from a Dutch ship in Samarang roads. +How he had liked the man: his assurance, his push, +his desire to get on, his conceited good-humour and +his selfish eloquence. He had liked his very faults-- +those faults that had so many, to him, sympathetic +sides. And he had always dealt fairly by him from the +very beginning; and he would deal fairly by him now + + +224 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +--to the very end. This last thought darkened Lin- +gard's features with a responsive and menacing frown. +The doer of justice sat with compressed lips and a heavy +heart, while in the calm darkness outside the silent +world seemed to be waiting breathlessly for that justice +he held in his hand--in his strong hand:--ready to +strike--reluctant to move. + + + + CHAPTER TWO + + BABALATCHI ceased speaking. Lingard shifted his +feet a little, uncrossed his arms, and shook his head +slowly. The narrative of the events in Sambir, +related from the point of view of the astute statesman, +the sense of which had been caught here and there +by his inattentive ears, had been yet like a thread to +guide him out of the sombre labyrinth of his thoughts; +and now he had come to the end of it, out of the tangled +past into the pressing necessities of the present. With +the palms of his hands on his knees, his elbows squared +out, he looked down on Babalatchi who sat in a stiff +attitude, inexpressive and mute as a talking doll the +mechanism of which had at length run down. + "You people did all this," said Lingard at last, +"and you will be sorry for it before the dry wind +begins to blow again. Abdulla's voice will bring the +Dutch rule here." + Babalatchi waved his hand towards the dark door- +way. + "There are forests there. Lakamba rules the land +now. Tell me, Tuan, do you think the big trees +know the name of the ruler? No. They are born, +they grow, they live and they die--yet know not, feel +not. It is their land." + "Even a big tree may be killed by a small axe," +said Lingard, drily. "And, remember, my one-eyed +friend, that axes are made by white hands. You will +soon find that out, since you have hoisted the flag of +the Dutch." + +225 + + +226 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Ay--wa!" said Babalatchi, slowly. "It is written +that the earth belongs to those who have fair skins +and hard but foolish hearts. The farther away is the +master, the easier it is for the slave, Tuan! You were +too near. Your voice rang in our ears always. Now +it is not going to be so. The great Rajah in Batavia is +strong, but he may be deceived. He must speak very +loud to be heard here. But if we have need to +shout, then he must hear the many voices that call for +protection. He is but a white man." + "If I ever spoke to Patalolo, like an elder brother, +it was for your good--for the good of all," said Lingard +with great earnestness. + "This is a white man's talk," exclaimed Babalatchi, +with bitter exultation. "I know you. That is how +you all talk while you load your guns and sharpen +your swords; and when you are ready, then to those +who are weak you say: 'Obey me and be happy, or +die! You are strange, you white men. You think +it is only your wisdom and your virtue and your +happiness that are true. You are stronger than the +wild beasts, but not so wise. A black tiger knows +when he is not hungry--you do not. He knows the +difference between himself and those that can speak; +you do not understand the difference between your- +selves and us--who are men. You are wise and great +--and you shall always be fools." + He threw up both his hands, stirring the sleeping +cloud of smoke that hung above his head, and brought +the open palms on the flimsy floor on each side of his +outstretched legs. The whole hut shook. Lingard +looked at the excited statesman curiously. + "Apa! Apa! What's the matter?" he murmured, +soothingly. "Whom did I kill here? Where are my +guns? What have I done? What have I eaten up?" + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 227 + + Babalatchi calmed down, and spoke with studied +courtesy. + "You, Tuan, are of the sea, and more like what +we are. Therefore I speak to you all the words that +are in my heart. . . . Only once has the sea been +stronger than the Rajah of the sea." + "You know it; do you?" said Lingard, with pained +sharpness. + "Hai! We have heard about your ship--and some +rejoiced. Not I. Amongst the whites, who are +devils, you are a man." + "Trima kassi! I give you thanks," said Lingard, +gravely. + Babalatchi looked down with a bashful smile, but +his face became saddened directly, and when he spoke +again it was in a mournful tone. + "Had you come a day sooner, Tuan, you would +have seen an enemy die. You would have seen him +die poor, blind, unhappy--with no son to dig his grave +and speak of his wisdom and courage. Yes; you would +have seen the man that fought you in Carimata many +years ago, die alone--but for one friend. A great sight +to you." + "Not to me," answered Lingard. "I did not even +remember him till you spoke his name just now. You +do not understand us. We fight, we vanquish--and +we forget." + "True, true," said Babalatchi, with polite irony; +"you whites are so great that you disdain to remember +your enemies. No! No!" he went on, in the same +tone, "you have so much mercy for us, that there is +no room for any remembrance. Oh, you are great and +good! But it is in my mind that amongst yourselves +you know how to remember. Is it not so, Tuan?" + Lingard said nothing. His shoulders moved im- + + +228 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +perceptibly. He laid his gun across his knees and +stared at the flint lock absently. + "Yes," went on Babalatchi, falling again into a +mournful mood, "yes, he died in darkness. I sat by +his side and held his hand, but he could not see the +face of him who watched the faint breath on his lips. +She, whom he had cursed because of the white man, +was there too, and wept with covered face. The +white man walked about the courtyard making many +noises. Now and then he would come to the door- +way and glare at us who mourned. He stared with +wicked eyes, and then I was glad that he who was +dying was blind. This is true talk. I was glad; for +a white man's eyes are not good to see when the devil +that lives within is looking out through them." + "Devil! Hey?" said Lingard, half aloud to him- +self, as if struck with the obviousness of some novel +idea. Babalatchi went on: + "At the first hour of the morning he sat up--he so +weak--and said plainly some words that were not +meant for human ears. I held his hand tightly, but it +was time for the leader of brave men to go amongst +the Faithful who are happy. They of my household +brought a white sheet, and I began to dig a grave in +the hut in which he died. She mourned aloud. The +white man came to the doorway and shouted. He +was angry. Angry with her because she beat her breast, +and tore her hair, and mourned with shrill cries as +a woman should. Do you understand what I say, +Tuan? That white man came inside the hut with +great fury, and took her by the shoulder, and dragged +her out. Yes, Tuan. I saw Omar dead, and I saw +her at the feet of that white dog who has deceived me. +I saw his face grey, like the cold mist of the morning; +I saw his pale eyes looking down at Omar's daughter + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 229 + +beating her head on the ground at his feet. At the +feet of him who is Abdulla's slave. Yes, he lives by +Abdulla's will. That is why I held my hand while I +saw all this. I held my hand because we are now +under the flag of the Orang Blanda, and Abdulla can +speak into the ears of the great. We must not have +any trouble with white men. Abdulla has spoken-- +and I must obey." + "That's it, is it?" growled Lingard in his moustache. +Then in Malay, "It seems that you are angry, O +Babalatchi!" + "No; I am not angry, Tuan," answered Babalatchi, +descending from the insecure heights of his indigna- +tion into the insincere depths of safe humility. "I +am not angry. What am I to be angry? I am only +an Orang Laut, and I have fled before your people +many times. Servant of this one--protected of an- +other; I have given my counsel here and there for a +handful of rice. What am I, to be angry with a white +man? What is anger without the power to strike? But +you whites have taken all: the land, the sea, and the +power to strike! And there is nothing left for us in +the islands but your white men's justice; your great +justice that knows not anger." + He got up and stood for a moment in the doorway, +sniffing the hot air of the courtyard, then turned back +and leaned against the stay of the ridge pole, facing +Lingard who kept his seat on the chest. The torch, +consumed nearly to the end, burned noisily. Small +explosions took place in the heart of the flame, driving +through its smoky blaze strings of hard, round puffs +of white smoke, no bigger than peas, which rolled out +of doors in the faint draught that came from invisible +cracks of the bamboo walls. The pungent taint of +unclean things below and about the hut grew heavier, + + +230 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +weighing down Lingard's resolution and his thoughts +in an irresistible numbness of the brain. He thought +drowsily of himself and of that man who wanted to +see him--who waited to see him. Who waited! Night +and day. Waited. . . . A spiteful but vaporous +idea floated through his brain that such waiting could +not be very pleasant to the fellow. Well, let him +wait. He would see him soon enough. And for how +long? Five seconds--five minutes--say nothing--say +something. What? No! Just give him time to take +one good look, and then . . . + Suddenly Babalatchi began to speak in a soft voice. +Lingard blinked, cleared his throat--sat up straight. + "You know all now, Tuan. Lakamba dwells in +the stockaded house of Patalolo; Abdulla has begun +to build godowns of plank and stone; and now that +Omar is dead, I myself shall depart from this place and +live with Lakamba and speak in his ear. I have served +many. The best of them all sleeps in the ground in a +white sheet, with nothing to mark his grave but the +ashes of the hut in which he died. Yes, Tuan! the white +man destroyed it himself. With a blazing brand in his +hand he strode around, shouting to me to come out-- +shouting to me, who was throwing earth on the body of a +great leader. Yes; swearing to me by the name of +your God and ours that he would burn me and her in +there if we did not make haste. . . . Hai! The +white men are very masterful and wise. I dragged her +out quickly!" + "Oh, damn it!" exclaimed Lingard--then went on +in Malay, speaking earnestly. "Listen. That man +is not like other white men. You know he is not. He +is not a man at all. He is . . . I don't know." + Babalatchi lifted his hand deprecatingly. His eye +twinkled, and his red-stained big lips, parted by an + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 231 + +expressionless grin, uncovered a stumpy row of black +teeth filed evenly to the gums. + "Hai! Hai! Not like you. Not like you," he +said, increasing the softness of his tones as he neared +the object uppermost in his mind during that much- +desired interview. "Not like you, Tuan, who are like +ourselves, only wiser and stronger. Yet he, also, is +full of great cunning, and speaks of you without any +respect, after the manner of white men when they talk +of one another." + Lingard leaped in his seat as if he had been prodded. + "He speaks! What does he say?" he shouted. + "Nay, Tuan," protested the composed Babalatchi; +"what matters his talk if he is not a man? I am +nothing before you--why should I repeat words of +one white man about another? He did boast to Ab- +dulla of having learned much from your wisdom in +years past. Other words I have forgotten. Indeed, +Tuan, I have . . ." + Lingard cut short Babalatchi's protestations by a +contemptuous wave of the hand and reseated himself +with dignity. + "I shall go," said Babalatchi, "and the white man +will remain here, alone with the spirit of the dead and +with her who has been the delight of his heart. He, +being white, cannot hear the voice of those that died. +. . . Tell me, Tuan," he went on, looking at Lingard +with curiosity--"tell me, Tuan, do you white people +ever hear the voices of the invisible ones?" + "We do not," answered Lingard, "because those +that we cannot see do not speak." + "Never speak! And never complain with sounds +that are not words?" exclaimed Babalatchi, doubtingly. +"It may be so--or your ears are dull. We Malays +hear many sounds near the places where men are + + +232 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +buried. To-night I heard . . . Yes, even I have +heard. . . . I do not want to hear any more," he +added, nervously. "Perhaps I was wrong when I +. . . There are things I regret. The trouble was +heavy in his heart when he died. Sometimes I think I +was wrong . . . but I do not want to hear the +complaint of invisible lips. Therefore I go, Tuan. Let +the unquiet spirit speak to his enemy the white man +who knows not fear, or love, or mercy--knows nothing +but contempt and violence. I have been wrong! I +have! Hai! Hai!" + He stood for awhile with his elbow in the palm of +his left hand, the fingers of the other over his lips +as if to stifle the expression of inconvenient remorse; +then, after glancing at the torch, burnt out nearly to its +end, he moved towards the wall by the chest, fumbled +about there and suddenly flung open a large shutter of +attaps woven in a light framework of sticks. Lingard +swung his legs quickly round the corner of his seat. + "Hallo!" he said, surprised. + The cloud of smoke stirred, and a slow wisp curled +out through the new opening. The torch flickered, +hissed, and went out, the glowing end falling on the +mat, whence Babalatchi snatched it up and tossed it +outside through the open square. It described a +vanishing curve of red light, and lay below, shining +feebly in the vast darkness. Babalatchi remained +with his arm stretched out into the empty night. + "There," he said, "you can see the white man's +courtyard, Tuan, and his house." + "I can see nothing," answered Lingard, putting +his head through the shutter-hole. "It's too dark." + "Wait, Tuan," urged Babalatchi. "You have been +looking long at the burning torch. You will soon see. +Mind the gun, Tuan. It is loaded." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 233 + + "There is no flint in it. You could not find a fire- +stone for a hundred miles round this spot," said Lin- +gard, testily. "Foolish thing to load that gun." + "I have a stone. I had it from a man wise and pious +that lives in Menang Kabau. A very pious man--very +good fire. He spoke words over that stone that make +its sparks good. And the gun is good--carries straight +and far. Would carry from here to the door of the +white man's house, I believe, Tuan." + "Tida apa. Never mind your gun," muttered Lin- +gard, peering into the formless darkness. "Is that +the house--that black thing over there?" he asked. + "Yes," answered Babalatchi; "that is his house. +He lives there by the will of Abdulla, and shall live +there till . . . From where you stand, Tuan, you +can look over the fence and across the courtyard straight +at the door--at the door from which he comes out every +morning, looking like a man that had seen Jehannum +in his sleep." + Lingard drew his head in. Babalatchi touched his +shoulder with a groping hand. + "Wait a little, Tuan. Sit still. The morning is not +far off now--a morning without sun after a night with- +out stars. But there will be light enough to see the +man who said not many days ago that he alone has +made you less than a child in Sambir." + He felt a slight tremor under his hand, but took it +off directly and began feeling all over the lid of the +chest, behind Lingard's back, for the gun. + "What are you at?" said Lingard, impatiently. +"You do worry about that rotten gun. You had better +get a light." + "A light! I tell you, Tuan, that the light of heaven +is very near," said Babalatchi, who had now obtained +possession of the object of his solicitude, and grasping + + +234 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +it strongly by its long barrel, grounded the stock at his +feet. + "Perhaps it is near," said Lingard, leaning both his +elbows on the lower cross-piece of the primitive window +and looking out. "It is very black outside yet," he +remarked carelessly. + Babalatchi fidgeted about. + "It is not good for you to sit where you may be seen," +he muttered. + "Why not?" asked Lingard. + "The white man sleeps, it is true," explained Baba- +latchi, softly; "yet he may come out early, and he has +arms." + "Ah! he has arms?" said Lingard. + "Yes; a short gun that fires many times--like yours +here. Abdulla had to give it to him." + Lingard heard Babalatchi's words, but made no +movement. To the old adventurer the idea that fire +arms could be dangerous in other hands than his own +did not occur readily, and certainly not in connection +with Willems. He was so busy with the thoughts about +what he considered his own sacred duty, that he could +not give any consideration to the probable actions of +the man of whom he thought--as one may think of an +executed criminal--with wondering indignation tem- +pered by scornful pity. While he sat staring into the +darkness, that every minute grew thinner before his +pensive eyes, like a dispersing mist, Willems appeared +to him as a figure belonging already wholly to the past +--a figure that could come in no way into his life again. +He had made up his mind, and the thing was as well as +done. In his weary thoughts he had closed this fatal, +inexplicable, and horrible episode in his life. The +worst had happened. The coming days would see the +retribution. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 235 + + He had removed an enemy once or twice before, out +of his path; he had paid off some very heavy scores a +good many times. Captain Tom had been a good +friend to many: but it was generally understood, from +Honolulu round about to Diego Suarez, that Captain +Tom's enmity was rather more than any man single- +handed could easily manage. He would not, as he +said often, hurt a fly as long as the fly left him alone; +yet a man does not live for years beyond the pale of +civilized laws without evolving for himself some queer +notions of justice. Nobody of those he knew had +ever cared to point out to him the errors of his con- +ceptions. It was not worth anybody's while to run +counter to Lingard's ideas of the fitness of things-- +that fact was acquired to the floating wisdom of the +South Seas, of the Eastern Archipelago, and was +nowhere better understood than in out-of-the-way +nooks of the world; in those nooks which he filled, +unresisted and masterful, with the echoes of his noisy +presence. There is not much use in arguing with a +man who boasts of never having regretted a single +action of his life, whose answer to a mild criticism is +a good-natured shout--"You know nothing about it. +I would do it again. Yes, sir!" His associates and +his acquaintances accepted him, his opinions, his +actions like things preordained and unchangeable; +looked upon his many-sided manifestations with passive +wonder not unmixed with that admiration which is only +the rightful due of a successful man. But nobody had +ever seen him in the mood he was in now. Nobody +had seen Lingard doubtful and giving way to doubt, +unable to make up his mind and unwilling to act; Lin- +gard timid and hesitating one minute, angry yet inactive +the next; Lingard puzzled in a word, because confronted +with a situation that discomposed him by its unpro- + + +236 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +voked malevolence, by its ghastly injustice, that to his +rough but unsophisticated palate tasted distinctly of +sulphurous fumes from the deepest hell. + The smooth darkness filling the shutter-hole grew +paler and became blotchy with ill-defined shapes, as if +a new universe was being evolved out of sombre chaos. +Then outlines came out, defining forms without any +details, indicating here a tree, there a bush; a black belt +of forest far off; the straight lines of a house, the ridge +of a high roof near by. Inside the hut, Babalatchi, who +lately had been only a persuasive voice, became a hu- +man shape leaning its chin imprudently on the muzzle +of a gun and rolling an uneasy eye over the reappearing +world. The day came rapidly, dismal and oppressed +by the fog of the river and by the heavy vapours of the +sky--a day without colour and without sunshine: in- +complete, disappointing, and sad. + Babalatchi twitched gently Lingard's sleeve, and +when the old seaman had lifted up his head interroga- +tively, he stretched out an arm and a pointing forefinger +towards Willems' house, now plainly visible to the right +and beyond the big tree of the courtyard. + "Look, Tuan!" he said. "He lives there. That is +the door--his door. Through it he will appear soon, +with his hair in disorder and his mouth full of curses. +That is so. He is a white man, and never satisfied. +It is in my mind he is angry even in his sleep. A dan- +gerous man. As Tuan may observe," he went on, +obsequiously, "his door faces this opening, where you +condescend to sit, which is concealed from all eyes. +Faces it--straight--and not far. Observe, Tuan, not +at all far." + "Yes, yes; I can see. I shall see him when he +wakes." + "No doubt, Tuan. When he wakes. . . . If + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 237 + +you remain here he can not see you. I shall withdraw +quickly and prepare my canoe myself. I am only a +poor man, and must go to Sambir to greet Lakamba +when he opens his eyes. I must bow before Abdulla +who has strength--even more strength than you. Now +if you remain here, you shall easily behold the man who +boasted to Abdulla that he had been your friend, even +while he prepared to fight those who called you pro- +tector. Yes, he plotted with Abdulla for that cursed +flag. Lakamba was blind then, and I was deceived. +But you, Tuan! Remember, he deceived you more. +Of that he boasted before all men." + He leaned the gun quietly against the wall close to +the window, and said softly: "Shall I go now, Tuan? +Be careful of the gun. I have put the fire-stone in. +The fire-stone of the wise man, which never fails." + Lingard's eyes were fastened on the distant door- +way. Across his line of sight, in the grey emptiness +of the courtyard, a big fruit-pigeon flapped languidly +towards the forests with a loud booming cry, like the +note of a deep gong: a brilliant bird looking in the gloom +of threatening day as black as a crow. A serried flock +of white rice birds rose above the trees with a faint +scream, and hovered, swaying in a disordered mass +that suddenly scattered in all directions, as if burst +asunder by a silent explosion. Behind his back Lin- +gard heard a shuffle of feet--women leaving the hut. +In the other courtyard a voice was heard complaining +of cold, and coming very feeble, but exceedingly dis- +tinct, out of the vast silence of the abandoned houses +and clearings. Babalatchi coughed discreetly. From +under the house the thumping of wooden pestles husk- +ing the rice started with unexpected abruptness. The +weak but clear voice in the yard again urged, "Blow +up the embers, O brother!" Another voice answered, + + +238 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +drawling in modulated, thin sing-song, "Do it yourself, +O shivering pig!" and the drawl of the last words stopped +short, as if the man had fallen into a deep hole. Baba- +latchi coughed again a little impatiently, and said in a +confidential tone-- + "Do you think it is time for me to go, Tuan? Will +you take care of my gun, Tuan? I am a man that +knows how to obey; even obey Abdulla, who has de- +ceived me. Nevertheless this gun carries far and true +--if you would want to know, Tuan. And I have put +in a double measure of powder, and three slugs. Yes, +Tuan. Now--perhaps--I go." + When Babalatchi commenced speaking, Lingard +turned slowly round and gazed upon him with the dull +and unwilling look of a sick man waking to another +day of suffering. As the astute statesman proceeded, +Lingard's eyebrows came close, his eyes became ani- +mated, and a big vein stood out on his forehead, ac- +centuating a lowering frown. When speaking his last +words Babalatchi faltered, then stopped, confused, +before the steady gaze of the old seaman. + Lingard rose. His face cleared, and he looked down +at the anxious Babalatchi with sudden benevolence. + "So! That's what you were after," he said, laying +a heavy hand on Babalatchi's yielding shoulder. "You +thought I came here to murder him. Hey? Speak! +You faithful dog of an Arab trader!" + "And what else, Tuan?" shrieked Babalatchi, exas- +perated into sincerity. "What else, Tuan! Remem- +ber what he has done; he poisoned our ears with his talk +about you. You are a man. If you did not come to +kill, Tuan, then either I am a fool or . . ." He +paused, struck his naked breast with his open palm, and +finished in a discouraged whisper--"or, Tuan, you are." + Lingard looked down at him with scornful serenity. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 239 + +After his long and painful gropings amongst the ob- +scure abominations of Willems' conduct, the logical +if tortuous evolutions of Babalatchi's diplomatic mind +were to him welcome as daylight. There was some- +thing at last he could understand--the clear effect of a +simple cause. He felt indulgent towards the disap- +pointed sage. + "So you are angry with your friend, O one-eyed +one!" he said slowly, nodding his fierce countenance +close to Babalatchi's discomfited face. "It seems to +me that you must have had much to do with what +happened in Sambir lately. Hey? You son of a +burnt father." + "May I perish under your hand, O Rajah of the +sea, if my words are not true!" said Babalatchi, with +reckless excitement. "You are here in the midst of +your enemies. He the greatest. Abdulla would do +nothing without him, and I could do nothing without +Abdulla. Strike me--so that you strike all!" + "Who are you," exclaimed Lingard contemptuously +--"who are you to dare call yourself my enemy! Dirt! +Nothing! Go out first," he went on severely. "Lakas! +quick. March out!" + He pushed Babalatchi through the doorway and +followed him down the short ladder into the court- +yard. The boatmen squatting over the fire turned +their slow eyes with apparent difficulty towards the +two men; then, unconcerned, huddled close together +again, stretching forlornly their hands over the embers. +The women stopped in their work and with uplifted +pestles flashed quick and curious glances from the +gloom under the house. + "Is that the way?" asked Lingard with a nod towards +the little wicket-gate of Willems' enclosure. + "If you seek death, that is surely the way," an- + + +240 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +swered Babalatchi in a dispassionate voice, as if he had +exhausted all the emotions. "He lives there: he who +destroyed your friends; who hastened Omar's death; +who plotted with Abdulla first against you, then against +me. I have been like a child. O shame! . . . But +go, Tuan. Go there." + "I go where I like," said Lingard, emphatically, +"and you may go to the devil; I do not want you +any more. The islands of these seas shall sink before +I, Rajah Laut, serve the will of any of your people. +Tau? But I tell you this: I do not care what you +do with him after to-day. And I say that because I +am merciful." + "Tida! I do nothing," said Babalatchi, shaking his +head with bitter apathy. "I am in Abdulla's hand +and care not, even as you do. No! no!" he added, +turning away, "I have learned much wisdom this +morning. There are no men anywhere. You whites +are cruel to your friends and merciful to your enemies +--which is the work of fools." + He went away towards the riverside, and, without +once looking back, disappeared in the low bank of mist +that lay over the water and the shore. Lingard fol- +lowed him with his eyes thoughtfully. After awhile +he roused himself and called out to his boatmen-- + "Hai--ya there! After you have eaten rice, wait +for me with your paddles in your hands. You hear?" + "Ada, Tuan!" answered Ali through the smoke of +the morning fire that was spreading itself, low and +gentle, over the courtyard--"we hear!" + Lingard opened slowly the little wicket-gate, made +a few steps into the empty enclosure, and stopped. He +had felt about his head the short breath of a puff of wind +that passed him, made every leaf of the big tree shiver-- +and died out in a hardly perceptible tremor of branches + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 241 + +and twigs. Instinctively he glanced upwards with a +seaman's impulse. Above him, under the grey motion- +less waste of a stormy sky, drifted low black vapours, +in stretching bars, in shapeless patches, in sinuous wisps +and tormented spirals. Over the courtyard and the +house floated a round, sombre, and lingering cloud, +dragging behind a tail of tangled and filmy streamers +--like the dishevelled hair of a mourning woman. + + + + CHAPTER THREE + + "BEWARE!" + The tremulous effort and the broken, inadequate +tone of the faint cry, surprised Lingard more than +the unexpected suddenness of the warning conveyed, +he did not know by whom and to whom. Besides him- +self there was no one in the courtyard as far as he could +see. The cry was not renewed, and his watchful eyes, +scanning warily the misty solitude of Willems' enclosure, +were met everywhere only by the stolid impassiveness of +inanimate things: the big sombre-looking tree, the shut- +up, sightless house, the glistening bamboo fences, the +damp and drooping bushes further off--all these things, +that condemned to look for ever at the incomprehensible +afflictions or joys of mankind, assert in their aspect of +cold unconcern the high dignity of lifeless matter that +surrounds, incurious and unmoved, the restless myster- +ies of the ever-changing, of the never-ending life. + Lingard, stepping aside, put the trunk of the tree +between himself and the house, then, moving cau- +tiously round one of the projecting buttresses, had to +tread short in order to avoid scattering a small heap of +black embers upon which he came unexpectedly on +the other side. A thin, wizened, little old woman, +who, standing behind the tree, had been looking at +the house, turned towards him with a start, gazed +with faded, expressionless eyes at the intruder, then +made a limping attempt to get away. She seemed, +however, to realize directly the hopelessness or the +difficulty of the undertaking, stopped, hesitated, tot- + +242 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 243 + +tered back slowly; then, after blinking dully, fell sud- +denly on her knees amongst the white ashes, and, bend- +ing over the heap of smouldering coals, distended her +sunken cheeks in a steady effort to blow up the hidden +sparks into a useful blaze. Lingard looked down on +her, but she seemed to have made up her mind that +there was not enough life left in her lean body for any- +thing else than the discharge of the simple domestic +duty, and, apparently, she begrudged him the least +moment of attention. After waiting for awhile, Lin- +gard asked-- + "Why did you call, O daughter?" + "I saw you enter," she croaked feebly, still grovel- +ling with her face near the ashes and without looking +up, "and I called--the cry of warning. It was her +order. Her order," she repeated, with a moaning sigh. + "And did she hear?" pursued Lingard, with gentle +composure. + Her projecting shoulder-blades moved uneasily under +the thin stuff of the tight body jacket. She scrambled +up with difficulty to her feet, and hobbled away, mut- +tering peevishly to herself, towards a pile of dry brush- +wood heaped up against the fence. + Lingard, looking idly after her, heard the rattle of +loose planks that led from the ground to the door of +the house. He moved his head beyond the shelter of +the tree and saw Aissa coming down the inclined way +into the courtyard. After making a few hurried paces +towards the tree, she stopped with one foot advanced +in an appearance of sudden terror, and her eyes glanced +wildly right and left. Her head was uncovered. A +blue cloth wrapped her from her head to foot in close +slanting folds, with one end thrown over her shoulder. +A tress of her black hair strayed across her bosom. Her +bare arms pressed down close to her body, with hands + + +244 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +open and outstretched fingers; her slightly elevated +shoulders and the backward inclination of her torso gave +her the aspect of one defiant yet shrinking from a com- +ing blow. She had closed the door of the house behind +her; and as she stood solitary in the unnatural and +threatening twilight of the murky day, with every- +thing unchanged around her, she appeared to Lin- +gard as if she had been made there, on the spot, +out of the black vapours of the sky and of the sinister +gleams of feeble sunshine that struggled, through the +thickening clouds, into the colourless desolation of the +world. + After a short but attentive glance towards the shut- +up house, Lingard stepped out from behind the tree +and advanced slowly towards her. The sudden fixity +of her--till then--restless eyes and a slight twitch of +her hands were the only signs she gave at first of having +seen him. She made a long stride forward, and putting +herself right in his path, stretched her arms across; +her black eyes opened wide, her lips parted as if in an +uncertain attempt to speak--but no sound came out to +break the significant silence of their meeting. Lingard +stopped and looked at her with stern curiosity. After +a while he said composedly-- + "Let me pass. I came here to talk to a man. Does +he hide? Has he sent you?" + She made a step nearer, her arms fell by her side, +then she put them straight out nearly touching Lin- +gard's breast. + "He knows not fear," she said, speaking low, with +a forward throw of her head, in a voice trembling but +distinct. "It is my own fear that has sent me here. +He sleeps." + "He has slept long enough," said Lingard, in meas- +ured tones. "I am come--and now is the time of his + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 245 + +waking. Go and tell him this--or else my own voice +will call him up. A voice he knows well." + He put her hands down firmly and again made as if +to pass by her. + "Do not!" she exclaimed, and fell at his feet as if +she had been cut down by a scythe. The unexpected +suddenness of her movement startled Lingard, who +stepped back. + "What's this?" he exclaimed in a wondering whisper +--then added in a tone of sharp command: "Stand up!" + She rose at once and stood looking at him, timorous +and fearless; yet with a fire of recklessness burning in +her eyes that made clear her resolve to pursue her pur- +pose even to the death. Lingard went on in a severe +voice-- + "Go out of my path. You are Omar's daughter, +and you ought to know that when men meet in daylight +women must be silent and abide their fate." + "Women!" she retorted, with subdued vehemence. +"Yes, I am a woman! Your eyes see that, O Rajah +Laut, but can you see my life? I also have heard--O +man of many fights--I also have heard the voice of fire- +arms; I also have felt the rain of young twigs and of +leaves cut up by bullets fall down about my head; I also +know how to look in silence at angry faces and at strong +hands raised high grasping sharp steel. I also saw men +fall dead around me without a cry of fear and of mourn- +ing; and I have watched the sleep of weary fugitives, +and looked at night shadows full of menace and death +with eyes that knew nothing but watchfulness. And," +she went on, with a mournful drop in her voice, "I have +faced the heartless sea, held on my lap the heads of +those who died raving from thirst, and from their cold +hands took the paddle and worked so that those with +me did not know that one man more was dead. I did + + +246 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +all this. What more have you done? That was my +life. What has been yours?" + The matter and the manner of her speech held Lin- +gard motionless, attentive and approving against his +will. She ceased speaking, and from her staring black +eyes with a narrow border of white above and below, a +double ray of her very soul streamed out in a fierce +desire to light up the most obscure designs of his heart. +After a long silence, which served to emphasize the +meaning of her words, she added in the whisper of bitter +regret-- + "And I have knelt at your feet! And I am afraid!" + "You," said Lingard deliberately, and returning her +look with an interested gaze, "you are a woman whose +heart, I believe, is great enough to fill a man's breast: +but still you are a woman, and to you, I, Rajah Laut, +have nothing lo say." + She listened bending her head in a movement of +forced attention; and his voice sounded to her un- +expected, far off, with the distant and unearthly ring +of voices that we hear in dreams, saying faintly things +startling, cruel or absurd, to which there is no possible +reply. To her he had nothing to say! She wrung +her hands, glanced over the courtyard with that eager +and distracted look that sees nothing, then looked up +at the hopeless sky of livid grey and drifting black; +at the unquiet mourning of the hot and brilliant heaven +that had seen the beginning of her love, that had heard +his entreaties and her answers, that had seen his desire +and her fear; that had seen her joy, her surrender--and +his defeat. Lingard moved a little, and this slight stir +near her precipitated her disordered and shapeless +thoughts into hurried words. + "Wait!" she exclaimed in a stifled voice, and went +on disconnectedly and rapidly--"Stay. I have heard. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 247 + +Men often spoke by the fires . . . men of my peo- +ple. And they said of you--the first on the sea--they +said that to men's cries you were deaf in battle, but after +. . . No! even while you fought, your ears were +open to the voice of children and women. They said +. . . that. Now I, a woman, I . . ." + She broke off suddenly and stood before him with +dropped eyelids and parted lips, so still now that she +seemed to have been changed into a breathless, an +unhearing, an unseeing figure, without knowledge of +fear or hope, of anger or despair. In the astounding +repose that came on her face, nothing moved but the +delicate nostrils that expanded and collapsed quickly, +flutteringly, in interrupted beats, like the wings of a +snared bird. + "I am white," said Lingard, proudly, looking at her +with a steady gaze where simple curiosity was giving +way to a pitying annoyance, "and men you have +heard, spoke only what is true over the evening fires. +My ears are open to your prayer. But listen to me +before you speak. For yourself you need not be afraid. +You can come even now with me and you shall find +refuge in the household of Syed Abdulla--who is of your +own faith. And this also you must know: nothing that +you may say will change my purpose towards the man +who is sleeping--or hiding--in that house." + Again she gave him the look that was like a stab, +not of anger but of desire; of the intense, over-powering +desire to see in, to see through, to understand every- +thing: every thought, emotion, purpose; every impulse, +every hesitation inside that man; inside that white-clad +foreign being who looked at her, who spoke to her, who +breathed before her like any other man, but bigger, red- +faced, white-haired and mysterious. It was the future +clothed in flesh; the to-morrow; the day after; all the + + +248 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +days, all the years of her life standing there before her +alive and secret, with all their good or evil shut up within +the breast of that man; of that man who could be per- +suaded, cajoled, entreated, perhaps touched, worried; +frightened--who knows?--if only first he could be +understood! She had seen a long time ago whither +events were tending. She had noted the contemptuous +yet menacing coldness of Abdulla; she had heard-- +alarmed yet unbelieving--Babalatchi's gloomy hints, +covert allusions and veiled suggestions to abandon the +useless white man whose fate would be the price of the +peace secured by the wise and good who had no need of +him any more. And he--himself! She clung to him. +There was nobody else. Nothing else. She would try +to cling to him always--all the life! And yet he was +far from her. Further every day. Every day he +seemed more distant, and she followed him patiently, +hopefully, blindly, but steadily, through all the devious +wanderings of his mind. She followed as well as she +could. Yet at times--very often lately--she had felt +lost like one strayed in the thickets of tangled under- +growth of a great forest. To her the ex-clerk of old +Hudig appeared as remote, as brilliant, as terrible, as +necessary, as the sun that gives life to these lands: the +sun of unclouded skies that dazzles and withers; the sun +beneficent and wicked--the giver of light, perfume, +and pestilence. She had watched him--watched him +close; fascinated by love, fascinated by danger. He +was alone now--but for her; and she saw--she thought +she saw--that he was like a man afraid of something. +Was it possible? He afraid? Of what? Was it of +that old white man who was coming--who had come? +Possibly. She had heard of that man ever since she +could remember. The bravest were afraid of him! +And now what was in the mind of this old, old man who + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 249 + +looked so strong? What was he going to do with the +light of her life? Put it out? Take it away? Take it +away for ever!--for ever!--and leave her in darkness:-- +not in the stirring, whispering, expectant night in which +the hushed world awaits the return of sunshine; but in +the night without end, the night of the grave, where +nothing breathes, nothing moves, nothing thinks-- +the last darkness of cold and silence without hope of +another sunrise. + She cried--"Your purpose! You know nothing. I +must . . ." + He interrupted--unreasonably excited, as if she had, by +her look, inoculated him with some of her own distress. + "I know enough." + She approached, and stood facing him at arm's +length, with both her hands on his shoulders; and he, +surprised by that audacity, closed and opened his +eyes two or three times, aware of some emotion arising +within him, from her words, her tone, her contact; an +emotion unknown, singular, penetrating and sad--at +the close sight of that strange woman, of that being +savage and tender, strong and delicate, fearful and +resolute, that had got entangled so fatally between their +two lives--his own and that other white man's, the +abominable scoundrel. + "How can you know?" she went on, in a persuasive +tone that seemed to flow out of her very heart--"how +can you know? I live with him all the days. All the +nights. I look at him; I see his every breath, every +glance of his eye, every movement of his lips. I see +nothing else! What else is there? And even I do not +understand. I do not understand him!--Him!--My +life! Him who to me is so great that his presence hides +the earth and the water from my sight!" + Lingard stood straight, with his hands deep in the + + +250 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +pockets of his jacket. His eyes winked quickly, be- +cause she spoke very close to his face. She disturbed +him and he had a sense of the efforts he was making to +get hold of her meaning, while all the time he could not +help telling himself that all this was of no use. + She added after a pause--"There has been a time +when I could understand him. When I knew what +was in his mind better than he knew it himself. When +I felt him. When I held him. . . . And now he has +escaped." + "Escaped? What? Gone away!" shouted Lingard. + "Escaped from me," she said; "left me alone. Alone. +And I am ever near him. Yet alone." + Her hands slipped slowly off Lingard's shoulders +and her arms fell by her side, listless, discouraged, as +if to her--to her, the savage, violent, and ignorant +creature--had been revealed clearly in that moment +the tremendous fact of our isolation, of the loneliness +impenetrable and transparent, elusive and everlasting; +of the indestructible loneliness that surrounds, en- +velopes, clothes every human soul from the cradle to +the grave, and, perhaps, beyond. + "Aye! Very well! I understand. His face is +turned away from you," said Lingard. "Now, what +do you want?" + "I want . . . I have looked--for help . . . +everywhere . . . against men. . . . All men +. . . I do not know. First they came, the invisible +whites, and dealt death from afar . . . then he +came. He came to me who was alone and sad. He +came; angry with his brothers; great amongst his own +people; angry with those I have not seen: with the +people where men have no mercy and women have no +shame. He was of them, and great amongst them. +For he was great?" + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 251 + + Lingard shook his head slightly. She frowned at +him, and went on in disordered haste-- + "Listen. I saw him. I have lived by the side of +brave men . . . of chiefs. When he came I was +the daughter of a beggar--of a blind man without +strength and hope. He spoke to me as if I had been +brighter than the sunshine--more delightful than the +cool water of the brook by which we met--more . . ." +Her anxious eyes saw some shade of expression pass +on her listener's face that made her hold her breath +for a second, and then explode into pained fury so +violent that it drove Lingard back a pace, like an +unexpected blast of wind. He lifted both his hands, +incongruously paternal in his venerable aspect, bewil- +dered and soothing, while she stretched her neck for- +ward and shouted at him. + "I tell you I was all that to him. I know it! I +saw it! . . . There are times when even you white +men speak the truth. I saw his eyes. I felt his eyes, +I tell you! I saw him tremble when I came near-- +when I spoke--when I touched him. Look at me! You +have been young. Look at me. Look, Rajah Laut!" + She stared at Lingard with provoking fixity, then, +turning her head quickly, she sent over her shoulder +a glance, full of humble fear, at the house that stood +high behind her back--dark, closed, rickety and silent +on its crooked posts. + Lingard's eyes followed her look, and remained +gazing expectantly at the house. After a minute or +so he muttered, glancing at her suspiciously-- + "If he has not heard your voice now, then he must +be far away--or dead." + "He is there," she whispered, a little calmed but still +anxious--"he is there. For three days he waited. +Waited for you night and day. And I waited with + + +252 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +him. I waited, watching his face, his eyes, his lips; +listening to his words.--To the words I could not +understand.--To the words he spoke in daylight; to +the words he spoke at night in his short sleep. I +listened. He spoke to himself walking up and down +here--by the river; by the bushes. And I followed. +I wanted to know--and I could not! He was tor- +mented by things that made him speak in the words +of his own people. Speak to himself--not to me. +Not to me! What was he saying? What was he +going to do? Was he afraid of you?--Of death? What +was in his heart? . . . Fear? . . . Or anger? +. . . what desire? . . . what sadness? He +spoke; spoke; many words. All the time! And I could +not know! I wanted to speak to him. He was deaf +to me. I followed him everywhere, watching for +some word I could understand; but his mind was in +the land of his people--away from me. When I +touched him he was angry--so!" + She imitated the movement of some one shaking off +roughly an importunate hand, and looked at Lingard +with tearful and unsteady eyes. + After a short interval of laboured panting, as if she +had been out of breath with running or fighting, she +looked down and went on-- + "Day after day, night after night, I lived watching +him--seeing nothing. And my heart was heavy-- +heavy with the presence of death that dwelt amongst +us. I could not believe. I thought he was afraid. +Afraid of you! Then I, myself, knew fear. . . . +Tell me, Rajah Laut, do you know the fear without +voice--the fear of silence--the fear that comes when +there is no one near--when there is no battle, no cries, +no angry faces or armed hands anywhere? . . . +The fear from which there is no escape!" + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 253 + + She paused, fastened her eyes again on the puzzled +Lingard, and hurried on in a tone of despair-- + "And I knew then he would not fight you! Before +--many days ago--I went away twice to make him obey +my desire; to make him strike at his own people so that +he could be mine--mine! O calamity! His hand was +false as your white hearts. It struck forward, pushed +by my desire--by his desire of me. . . . It struck +that strong hand, and--O shame!--it killed nobody! +Its fierce and lying blow woke up hate without any fear. +Round me all was lies. His strength was a lie. My own +people lied to me and to him. And to meet you--you, +the great!--he had no one but me? But me with my +rage, my pain, my weakness. Only me! And to me he +would not even speak. The fool!" + She came up close to Lingard, with the wild and +stealthy aspect of a lunatic longing to whisper out an +insane secret--one of those misshapen, heart-rending, +and ludicrous secrets; one of those thoughts that, like +monsters--cruel, fantastic, and mournful, wander about +terrible and unceasing in the night of madness. Lin- +gard looked at her, astounded but unflinching. She +spoke in his face, very low. + "He is all! Everything. He is my breath, my +light, my heart. . . . Go away. . . . Forget +him. . . . He has no courage and no wisdom any +more . . . and I have lost my power. . . . +Go away and forget. There are other enemies. . . . +Leave him to me. He had been a man once. . . . +You are too great. Nobody can withstand you. . . . +I tried. . . . I know now. . . . I cry for +mercy. Leave him to me and go away." + The fragments of her supplicating sentences were as +if tossed on the crest of her sobs. Lingard, outwardly +impassive, with his eyes fixed on the house, experienced + + +254 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +that feeling of condemnation, deep-seated, persuasive, +and masterful; that illogical impulse of disapproval +which is half disgust, half vague fear, and that wakes +up in our hearts in the presence of anything new or +unusual, of anything that is not run into the mould of +our own conscience; the accursed feeling made up of +disdain, of anger, and of the sense of superior virtue +that leaves us deaf, blind, contemptuous and stupid +before anything which is not like ourselves. + He answered, not looking at her at first, but speaking +towards the house that fascinated him-- + "<i>I</i> go away! He wanted me to come--he himself +did! . . . <i>You</i> must go away. You do not know +what you are asking for. Listen. Go to your own +people. Leave him. He is . . ." + He paused, looked down at her with his steady +eyes; hesitated, as if seeking an adequate expression; +then snapped his fingers, and said-- + "Finish." + She stepped back, her eyes on the ground, and +pressed her temples with both her hands, which she +raised to her head in a slow and ample movement full +of unconscious tragedy. The tone of her words was +gentle and vibrating, like a loud meditation. She +said-- + "Tell the brook not to run to the river; tell the river +not to run to the sea. Speak loud. Speak angrily. +Maybe they will obey you. But it is in my mind that +the brook will not care. The brook that springs out of +the hillside and runs to the great river. He would not +care for your words: he that cares not for the very moun- +tain that gave him life; he that tears the earth from +which he springs. Tears it, eats it, destroys it--to +hurry faster to the river--to the river in which he is lost +for ever. . . . O Rajah Laut! I do not care." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 255 + + She drew close again to Lingard, approaching slowly, +reluctantly, as if pushed by an invisible hand, and added +in words that seemed to be torn out of her-- + "I cared not for my own father. For him that died. +I would have rather . . . You do not know what +I have done . . . I . . ." + "You shall have his life," said Lingard, hastily. + They stood together, crossing their glances; she +suddenly appeased, and Lingard thoughtful and uneasy +under a vague sense of defeat. And yet there was no +defeat. He never intended to kill the fellow--not +after the first moment of anger, a long time ago. The +days of bitter wonder had killed anger; had left only a +bitter indignation and a bitter wish for complete jus- +tice. He felt discontented and surprised. Unex- +pectedly he had come upon a human being--a woman +at that--who had made him disclose his will before its +time. She should have his life. But she must be told, +she must know, that for such men as Willems there was +no favour and no grace. + "Understand," he said slowly, "that I leave him his +life not in mercy but in punishment." + She started, watched every word on his lips, and +after he finished speaking she remained still and mute +in astonished immobility. A single big drop of rain, +a drop enormous, pellucid and heavy--like a super- +human tear coming straight and rapid from above, +tearing its way through the sombre sky--struck loudly +the dry ground between them in a starred splash. She +wrung her hands in the bewilderment of the new and +incomprehensible fear. The anguish of her whisper +was more piercing than the shrillest cry. + "What punishment! Will you take him away then? +Away from me? Listen to what I have done. . . . +It is I who . . ." + + +256 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Ah!" exclaimed Lingard, who had been looking +at the house. + "Don't you believe her, Captain Lingard," shouted +Willems from the doorway, where he appeared with +swollen eyelids and bared breast. He stood for a +while, his hands grasping the lintels on each side of +the door, and writhed about, glaring wildly, as if he +had been crucified there. Then he made a sudden +rush head foremost down the plankway that responded +with hollow, short noises to every footstep. + She heard him. A slight thrill passed on her face +and the words that were on her lips fell back unspoken +into her benighted heart; fell back amongst the mud, +the stones--and the flowers, that are at the bottom of +every heart. + + + CHAPTER FOUR + + WHEN he felt the solid ground of the courtyard under +his feet, Willems pulled himself up in his headlong +rush and moved forward with a moderate gait. He +paced stiffly, looking with extreme exactitude at Lin- +gard's face; looking neither to the right nor to the +left but at the face only, as if there was nothing in the +world but those features familiar and dreaded; that +white-haired, rough and severe head upon which he +gazed in a fixed effort of his eyes, like a man trying to +read small print at the full range of human vision. As +soon as Willems' feet had left the planks, the silence +which had been lifted up by the jerky rattle of his +footsteps fell down again upon the courtyard; the +silence of the cloudy sky and of the windless air, the +sullen silence of the earth oppressed by the aspect of +coming turmoil, the silence of the world collecting its +faculties to withstand the storm. + Through this silence Willems pushed his way, and +stopped about six feet from Lingard. He stopped +simply because he could go no further. He had started +from the door with the reckless purpose of clapping the +old fellow on the shoulder. He had no idea that the +man would turn out to be so tall, so big and so unap- +proachable. It seemed to him that he had never, never +in his life, seen Lingard. + He tried to say-- + "Do not believe . . ." + A fit of coughing checked his sentence in a faint +splutter. Directly afterwards he swallowed--as it + +257 + + +258 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +were--a couple of pebbles, throwing his chin up in the +act; and Lingard, who looked at him narrowly, saw a +bone, sharp and triangular like the head of a snake, dart +up and down twice under the skin of his throat. Then +that, too, did not move. Nothing moved. + "Well," said Lingard, and with that word he came +unexpectedly to the end of his speech. His hand in +his pocket closed firmly round the butt of his revolver +bulging his jacket on the hip, and he thought how soon +and how quickly he could terminate his quarrel with +that man who had been so anxious to deliver himself +into his hands--and how inadequate would be that +ending! He could not bear the idea of that man +escaping from him by going out of life; escaping from +fear, from doubt, from remorse into the peaceful certi- +tude of death. He held him now. And he was not +going to let him go--to let him disappear for ever in +the faint blue smoke of a pistol shot. His anger grew +within him. He felt a touch as of a burning hand on his +heart. Not on the flesh of his breast, but a touch on his +heart itself, on the palpitating and untiring particle of +matter that responds to every emotion of the soul; that +leaps with joy, with terror, or with anger. + He drew a long breath. He could see before him +the bare chest of the man expanding and collapsing +under the wide-open jacket. He glanced aside, and +saw the bosom of the woman near him rise and fall +in quick respirations that moved slightly up and down +her hand, which was pressed to her breast with all the +fingers spread out and a little curved, as if grasping +something too big for its span. And nearly a minute +passed. One of those minutes when the voice is si- +lenced, while the thoughts flutter in the head, like cap- +tive birds inside a cage, in rushes desperate, exhausting +and vain. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 259 + + During that minute of silence Lingard's anger kept +rising, immense and towering, such as a crested wave +running over the troubled shallows of the sands. Its +roar filled his cars; a roar so powerful and distract- +ing that, it seemed to him, his head must burst directly +with the expanding volume of that sound. He looked +at that man. That infamous figure upright on its feet, +still, rigid, with stony eyes, as if its rotten soul had +departed that moment and the carcass hadn't had the +time yet to topple over. For the fraction of a second he +had the illusion and the fear of the scoundrel having +died there before the enraged glance of his eyes. Wil- +lems' eyelids fluttered, and the unconscious and passing +tremor in that stiffly erect body exasperated Lingard +like a fresh outrage. The fellow dared to stir! Dared +to wink, to breathe, to exist; here, right before his eyes! +His grip on the revolver relaxed gradually. As the +transport of his rage increased, so also his contempt for +the instruments that pierce or stab, that interpose +themselves between the hand and the object of hate. +He wanted another kind of satisfaction. Naked hands, +by heaven! No firearms. Hands that could take him +by the throat, beat down his defence, batter his face into +shapeless flesh; hands that could feel all the despera- +tion of his resistance and overpower it in the violent +delight of a contact lingering and furious, intimate and +brutal. + He let go the revolver altogether, stood hesitating, +then throwing his hands out, strode forward--and +everything passed from his sight. He could not see +the man, the woman, the earth, the sky--saw nothing, +as if in that one stride he had left the visible world +behind to step into a black and deserted space. He +heard screams round him in that obscurity, screams +like the melancholy and pitiful cries of sea-birds that + + +260 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +dwell on the lonely reefs of great oceans. Then sud- +denly a face appeared within a few inches of his own. +His face. He felt something in his left hand. His +throat . . . Ah! the thing like a snake's head that +darts up and down . . . He squeezed hard. He +was back in the world. He could see the quick beating +of eyelids over a pair of eyes that were all whites, the +grin of a drawn-up lip, a row of teeth gleaming through +the drooping hair of a moustache . . . Strong +white teeth. Knock them down his lying throat . . . +He drew back his right hand, the fist up to the shoulder, +knuckles out. From under his feet rose the screams of +sea-birds. Thousands of them. Something held his +legs . . . What the devil . . . He delivered +his blow straight from the shoulder, felt the jar right up +his arm, and realized suddenly that he was striking +something passive and unresisting. His heart sank +within him with disappointment, with rage, with +mortification. He pushed with his left arm, opening +the hand with haste, as if he had just perceived that he +got hold by accident of something repulsive--and he +watched with stupefied eyes Willems tottering back- +wards in groping strides, the white sleeve of his jacket +across his face. He watched his distance from that man +increase, while he remained motionless, without being +able to account to himself for the fact that so much +empty space had come in between them. It should +have been the other way. They ought to have been +very close, and . . . Ah! He wouldn't fight, he +wouldn't resist, he wouldn't defend himself! A cur! +Evidently a cur! . . . He was amazed and ag- +grieved--profoundly--bitterly--with the immense and +blank desolation of a small child robbed of a toy. He +shouted--unbelieving: + "Will you be a cheat to the end?" + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 261 + + He waited for some answer. He waited anxiously +with an impatience that seemed to lift him off his feet. +He waited for some word, some sign; for some threaten- +ing stir. Nothing! Only two unwinking eyes glit- +tered intently at him above the white sleeve. He saw +the raised arm detach itself from the face and sink along +the body. A white clad arm, with a big stain on the +white sleeve. A red stain. There was a cut on the +cheek. It bled. The nose bled too. The blood ran +down, made one moustache look like a dark rag stuck +over the lip, and went on in a wet streak down the clip- +ped beard on one side of the chin. A drop of blood +hung on the end of some hairs that were glued together; +it hung for a while and took a leap down on the ground. +Many more followed, leaping one after another in close +file. One alighted on the breast and glided down in- +stantly with devious vivacity, like a small insect run- +ning away; it left a narrow dark track on the white +skin. He looked at it, looked at the tiny and active +drops, looked at what he had done, with obscure satis- +faction, with anger, with regret. This wasn't much +like an act of justice. He had a desire to go up nearer +to the man, to hear him speak, to hear him say some- +thing atrocious and wicked that would justify the vio- +lence of the blow. He made an attempt to move, and +became aware of a close embrace round both his legs, +just above the ankles. Instinctively, he kicked out +with his foot, broke through the close bond and felt at +once the clasp transferred to his other leg; the clasp +warm, desperate and soft, of human arms. He looked +down bewildered. He saw the body of the woman +stretched at length, flattened on the ground like a dark +blue rag. She trailed face downwards, clinging to his +leg with both arms in a tenacious hug. He saw the top +of her head, the long black hair streaming over his foot, + + +262 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +all over the beaten earth, around his boot. He couldn't +see his foot for it. He heard the short and repeated +moaning of her breath. He imagined the invisible face +close to his heel. With one kick into that face he could +free himself. He dared not stir, and shouted down-- + "Let go! Let go! Let go!" + The only result of his shouting was a tightening of +the pressure of her arms. With a tremendous effort +he tried to bring his right foot up to his left, and suc- +ceeded partly. He heard distinctly the rub of her body +on the ground as he jerked her along. He tried to +disengage himself by drawing up his foot. He stamped. +He heard a voice saying sharply-- + "Steady, Captain Lingard, steady!" + His eyes flew back to Willems at the sound of that +voice, and, in the quick awakening of sleeping memories, +Lingard stood suddenly still, appeased by the clear ring +of familiar words. Appeased as in days of old, when +they were trading together, when Willems was his +trusted and helpful companion in out-of-the-way and +dangerous places; when that fellow, who could keep his +temper so much better than he could himself, had spared +him many a difficulty, had saved him from many an act +of hasty violence by the timely and good-humoured +warning, whispered or shouted, "Steady, Captain Lin- +gard, steady." A smart fellow. He had brought him +up. The smartest fellow in the islands. If he had +only stayed with him, then all this . . . He called +out to Willems-- + "Tell her to let me go or . . ." + He heard Willems shouting something, waited for +awhile, then glanced vaguely down and saw the woman +still stretched out perfectly mute and unstirring, with +her head at his feet. He felt a nervous impatience +that, somehow, resembled fear. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 263 + + "Tell her to let go, to go away, Willems, I tell you. +I've had enough of this," he cried. + "All right, Captain Lingard," answered the calm +voice of Willems, "she has let go. Take your foot +off her hair; she can't get up." + Lingard leaped aside, clean away, and spun round +quickly. He saw her sit up and cover her face with +both hands, then he turned slowly on his heel and +looked at the man. Willems held himself very straight, +but was unsteady on his feet, and moved about nearly +on the same spot, like a tipsy man attempting to pre- +serve his balance. After gazing at him for a while, +Lingard called, rancorous and irritable-- + "What have you got to say for yourself?" + Willems began to walk towards him. He walked +slowly, reeling a little before he took each step, and +Lingard saw him put his hand to his face, then look +at it holding it up to his eyes, as if he had there, con- +cealed in the hollow of the palm, some small object +which he wanted to examine secretly. Suddenly he +drew it, with a brusque movement, down the front of his +jacket and left a long smudge. + "That's a fine thing to do," said Willems. + He stood in front of Lingard, one of his eyes sunk +deep in the increasing swelling of his cheek, still re- +peating mechanically the movement of feeling his +damaged face; and every time he did this he pressed +the palm to some clean spot on his jacket, covering the +white cotton with bloody imprints as of some deformed +and monstrous hand. Lingard said nothing, looking +on. At last Willems left off staunching the blood and +stood, his arms hanging by his side, with his face stiff +and distorted under the patches of coagulated blood; +and he seemed as though he had been set up there for a +warning: an incomprehensible figure marked all over + + +264 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +with some awful and symbolic signs of deadly import. +Speaking with difficulty, he repeated in a reproachful +tone-- + "That was a fine thing to do." + "After all," answered Lingard, bitterly, "I had too +good an opinion of you." + "And I of you. Don't you see that I could have had +that fool over there killed and the whole thing burnt to +the ground, swept off the face of the earth. You would- +n't have found as much as a heap of ashes had I liked. +I could have done all that. And I wouldn't." + "You--could--not. You dared not. You scoun- +drel!" cried Lingard. + "What's the use of calling me names?" + "True," retorted Lingard--"there's no name bad +enough for you." + There was a short interval of silence. At the sound +of their rapidly exchanged words, Aissa had got up +from the ground where she had been sitting, in a +sorrowful and dejected pose, and approached the two +men. She stood on one side and looked on eagerly, in a +desperate effort of her brain, with the quick and dis- +tracted eyes of a person trying for her life to penetrate +the meaning of sentences uttered in a foreign tongue: +the meaning portentous and fateful that lurks in the +sounds of mysterious words; in the sounds surprising, +unknown and strange. + Willems let the last speech of Lingard pass by; +seemed by a slight movement of his hand to help it +on its way to join the other shadows of the past. Then +he said-- + "You have struck me; you have insulted me . . ." + "Insulted you!" interrupted Lingard, passionately. +"Who--what can insult you . . . you . . ." + He choked, advanced a step. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 265 + + "Steady! steady!" said Willems calmly. "I tell +you I sha'n't fight. Is it clear enough to you that I +sha'n't? I--shall--not--lift--a--finger." + As he spoke, slowly punctuating each word with a +slight jerk of his head, he stared at Lingard, his right +eye open and big, the left small and nearly closed by +the swelling of one half of his face, that appeared all +drawn out on one side like faces seen in a concave +glass. And they stood exactly opposite each other: +one tall, slight and disfigured; the other tall, heavy +and severe. + Willems went on-- + "If I had wanted to hurt you--if I had wanted to +destroy you, it was easy. I stood in the doorway long +enough to pull a trigger--and you know I shoot +straight." + "You would have missed," said Lingard, with as- +surance. "There is, under heaven, such a thing as +justice." + The sound of that word on his own lips made him +pause, confused, like an unexpected and unanswerable +rebuke. The anger of his outraged pride, the anger +of his outraged heart, had gone out in the blow; and +there remained nothing but the sense of some immense +infamy--of something vague, disgusting and terrible, +which seemed to surround him on all sides, hover +about him with shadowy and stealthy movements, like +a band of assassins in the darkness of vast and unsafe +places. Was there, under heaven, such a thing as jus- +tice? He looked at the man before him with such +an intensity of prolonged glance that he seemed to see +right through him, that at last he saw but a floating +and unsteady mist in human shape. Would it blow +away before the first breath of the breeze and leave +nothing behind? + + +266 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + The sound of Willems' voice made him start violently. +Willems was saying-- + "I have always led a virtuous life; you know I have. +You always praised me for my steadiness; you know +you have. You know also I never stole--if that's what +you're thinking of. I borrowed. You know how much +I repaid. It was an error of judgment. But then +consider my position there. I had been a little unlucky +in my private affairs, and had debts. Could I let myself +go under before the eyes of all those men who envied +me? But that's all over. It was an error of judgment. +I've paid for it. An error of judgment." + Lingard, astounded into perfect stillness, looked +down. He looked down at Willems' bare feet. Then, +as the other had paused, he repeated in a blank tone-- + "An error of judgment . . ." + "Yes," drawled out Willems, thoughtfully, and went +on with increasing animation: "As I said, I have always +led a virtuous life. More so than Hudig--than you. +Yes, than you. I drank a little, I played cards a little. +Who doesn't? But I had principles from a boy. Yes, +principles. Business is business, and I never was an +ass. I never respected fools. They had to suffer for +their folly when they dealt with me. The evil was in +them, not in me. But as to principles, it's another mat- +ter. I kept clear of women. It's forbidden--I had no +time--and I despised them. Now I hate them!" + He put his tongue out a little; a tongue whose pink +and moist end ran here and there, like something +independently alive, under his swollen and blackened +lip; he touched with the tips of his fingers the cut +on his cheek, felt all round it with precaution: and +the unharmed side of his face appeared for a moment +to be preoccupied and uneasy about the state of that +other side which was so very sore and stiff. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 267 + + He recommenced speaking, and his voice vibrated +as though with repressed emotion of some kind. + "You ask my wife, when you see her in Macassar, +whether I have no reason to hate her. She was no- +body, and I made her Mrs. Willems. A half-caste +girl! You ask her how she showed her gratitude to +me. You ask . . . Never mind that. Well, you +came and dumped me here like a load of rubbish; +dumped me here and left me with nothing to do-- +nothing good to remember--and damn little to hope +for. You left me here at the mercy of that fool, Al- +mayer, who suspected me of something. Of what? +Devil only knows. But he suspected and hated me +from the first; I suppose because you befriended me. +Oh! I could read him like a book. He isn't very deep, +your Sambir partner, Captain Lingard, but he knows +how to be disagreeable. Months passed. I thought +I would die of sheer weariness, of my thoughts, of my +regrets And then . . ." + He made a quick step nearer to Lingard, and as if +moved by the same thought, by the same instinct, +by the impulse of his will, Aissa also stepped nearer +to them. They stood in a close group, and the two +men could feel the calm air between their faces stirred +by the light breath of the anxious woman who en- +veloped them both in the uncomprehending, in the +despairing and wondering glances of her wild and +mournful eyes. + + + + CHAPTER FIVE + + WILLEMS turned a little from her and spoke lower. + "Look at that," he said, with an almost imper- +ceptible movement of his head towards the woman to +whom he was presenting his shoulder. "Look at that! +Don't believe her! What has she been saying to you? +What? I have been asleep. Had to sleep at last. +I've been waiting for you three days and nights. I had +to sleep some time. Hadn't I? I told her to remain +awake and watch for you, and call me at once. She +did watch. You can't believe her. You can't believe +any woman. Who can tell what's inside their heads? +No one. You can know nothing. The only thing you +can know is that it isn't anything like what comes +through their lips. They live by the side of you. +They seem to hate you, or they seem to love you; +they caress or torment you; they throw you over or stick +to you closer than your skin for some inscrutable and +awful reason of their own--which you can never know! +Look at her--and look at me. At me!--her infernal +work. What has she been saying?" + His voice had sunk to a whisper. Lingard listened +with great attention, holding his chin in his hand, +which grasped a great handful of his white beard. +His elbow was in the palm of his other hand, and +his eyes were still fixed on the ground. He murmured, +without looking up-- + "She begged me for your life--if you want to know +--as if the thing were worth giving or taking!" + "And for three days she begged me to take yours," + +268 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 269 + +said Willems quickly. "For three days she wouldn't +give me any peace. She was never still. She planned +ambushes. She has been looking for places all over +here where I could hide and drop you with a safe shot +as you walked up. It's true. I give you my word." + "Your word," muttered Lingard, contemptuously. + Willems took no notice. + "Ah! She is a ferocious creature," he went on. +"You don't know . . . I wanted to pass the time +--to do something--to have something to think about +--to forget my troubles till you came back. And . . . +look at her . . . she took me as if I did not belong +to myself. She did. I did not know there was some- +thing in me she could get hold of. She, a savage. +I, a civilized European, and clever! She that knew +no more than a wild animal! Well, she found out +something in me. She found it out, and I was lost. +I knew it. She tormented me. I was ready to do +anything. I resisted--but I was ready. I knew that +too. That frightened me more than anything; more +than my own sufferings; and that was frightful enough, +I assure you." + Lingard listened, fascinated and amazed like a child +listening to a fairy tale, and, when Willems stopped for +breath, he shuffled his feet a little. + "What does he say?" cried out Aissa, suddenly. + The two men looked at her quickly, and then looked +at one another. + Willems began again, speaking hurriedly-- + "I tried to do something. Take her away from +those people. I went to Almayer; the biggest blind +fool that you ever . . . Then Abdulla came--and +she went away. She took away with her something of +me which I had to get back. I had to do it. As far +as you are concerned, the change here had to happen + + +270 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +sooner or later; you couldn't be master here for ever. +It isn't what I have done that torments me. It is the +why. It's the madness that drove me to it. It's that +thing that came over me. That may come again, +some day." + "It will do no harm to anybody then, I promise +you," said Lingard, significantly. + Willems looked at him for a second with a blank +stare, then went on-- + "I fought against her. She goaded me to violence +and to murder. Nobody knows why. She pushed +me to it persistently, desperately, all the time. For- +tunately Abdulla had sense. I don't know what I +wouldn't have done. She held me then. Held me +like a nightmare that is terrible and sweet. By and +by it was another life. I woke up. I found myself +beside an animal as full of harm as a wild cat. You +don't know through what I have passed. Her father +tried to kill me--and she very nearly killed him. I +believe she would have stuck at nothing. I don't +know which was more terrible! She would have stuck +at nothing to defend her own. And when I think +that it was me--me--Willems . . . I hate her. +To-morrow she may want my life. How can I know +what's in her? She may want to kill me next!" + He paused in great trepidation, then added in a +scared tone-- + "I don't want to die here." + "Don't you?" said Lingard, thoughtfully. + Willems turned towards Aissa and pointed at her +with a bony forefinger. + "Look at her! Always there. Always near. Al- +ways watching, watching . . . for something. +Look at her eyes. Ain't they big? Don't they stare? +You wouldn't think she can shut them like human + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 271 + +beings do. I don't believe she ever does. I go to sleep, +if I can, under their stare, and when I wake up I see +them fixed on me and moving no more than the eyes of +a corpse. While I am still they are still. By God--she +can't move them till I stir, and then they follow me like +a pair of jailers. They watch me; when I stop they +seem to wait patient and glistening till I am off my guard +--for to do something. To do something horrible. +Look at them! You can see nothing in them. They +are big, menacing--and empty. The eyes of a savage; +of a damned mongrel, half-Arab, half-Malay. They +hurt me! I am white! I swear to you I can't stand +this! Take me away. I am white! All white!" + He shouted towards the sombre heaven, proclaiming +desperately under the frown of thickening clouds the +fact of his pure and superior descent. He shouted, +his head thrown up, his arms swinging about wildly; +lean, ragged, disfigured; a tall madman making a +great disturbance about something invisible; a being +absurd, repulsive, pathetic, and droll. Lingard, who +was looking down as if absorbed in deep thought, +gave him a quick glance from under his eyebrows: +Aissa stood with clasped hands. At the other end of +the courtyard the old woman, like a vague and decrepit +apparition, rose noiselessly to look, then sank down +again with a stealthy movement and crouched low over +the small glow of the fire. Willems' voice filled the +enclosure, rising louder with every word, and then, sud- +denly, at its very loudest, stopped short--like water +stops running from an over-turned vessel. As soon as +it had ceased the thunder seemed to take up the burden +in a low growl coming from the inland hills. The noise +approached in confused mutterings which kept on in- +creasing, swelling into a roar that came nearer, rushed +down the river, passed close in a tearing crash--and + + +272 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +instantly sounded faint, dying away in monotonous +and dull repetitions amongst the endless sinuosities of +the lower reaches. Over the great forests, over all the +innumerable people of unstirring trees--over all that +living people immense, motionless, and mute--the +silence, that had rushed in on the track of the passing +tumult, remained suspended as deep and complete as +if it had never been disturbed from the beginning of +remote ages. Then, through it, after a time, came to +Lingard's ears the voice of the running river: a voice +low, discreet, and sad, like the persistent and gentle +voices that speak of the past in the silence of dreams. + He felt a great emptiness in his heart. It seemed +to him that there was within his breast a great space +without any light, where his thoughts wandered for- +lornly, unable to escape, unable to rest, unable to die, +to vanish--and to relieve him from the fearful oppres- +sion of their existence. Speech, action, anger, for- +giveness, all appeared to him alike useless and vain, +appeared to him unsatisfactory, not worth the effort +of hand or brain that was needed to give them effect. +He could not see why he should not remain standing +there, without ever doing anything, to the end of +time. He felt something, something like a heavy +chain, that held him there. This wouldn't do. He +backed away a little from Willems and Aissa, leaving +them close together, then stopped and looked at both. +The man and the woman appeared to him much further +than they really were. He had made only about three +steps backward, but he believed for a moment that an- +other step would take him out of earshot for ever. They +appeared to him slightly under life size, and with a great +cleanness of outlines, like figures carved with great pre- +cision of detail and highly finished by a skilful hand. He +pulled himself together. The strong consciousness of his + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 273 + +own personality came back to him. He had a notion +of surveying them from a great and inaccessible height. + He said slowly: "You have been possessed of a devil." + "Yes," answered Willems gloomily, and looking at +Aissa. "Isn't it pretty?" + "I've heard this kind of talk before," said Lingard, +in a scornful tone; then paused, and went on steadily +after a while: "I regret nothing. I picked you up by +the waterside, like a starving cat--by God. I regret +nothing; nothing that I have done. Abdulla--twenty +others--no doubt Hudig himself, were after me. That's +business--for them. But that you should . . . +Money belongs to him who picks it up and is strong +enough to keep it--but this thing was different. It was +part of my life. . . . I am an old fool." + He was. The breath of his words, of the very +words he spoke, fanned the spark of divine folly in his +breast, the spark that made him--the hard-headed, +heavy-handed adventurer--stand out from the crowd, +from the sordid, from the joyous, unscrupulous, and +noisy crowd of men that were so much like himself. + Willems said hurriedly: "It wasn't me. The evil +was not in me, Captain Lingard." + "And where else confound you! Where else?" +interrupted Lingard, raising his voice. "Did you +ever see me cheat and lie and steal? Tell me that. +Did you? Hey? I wonder where in perdition you +came from when I found you under my feet. . . . +No matter. You will do no more harm." + Willems moved nearer, gazing upon him anxiously. +Lingard went on with distinct deliberation-- + "What did you expect when you asked me to see +you? What? You know me. I am Lingard. You +lived with me. You've heard men speak. You knew +what you had done. Well! What did you expect?" + + +274 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "How can I know?" groaned Willems, wringing his +hands; "I was alone in that infernal savage crowd. +I was delivered into their hands. After the thing was +done, I felt so lost and weak that I would have called +the devil himself to my aid if it had been any good--if +he hadn't put in all his work already. In the whole +world there was only one man that had ever cared for +me. Only one white man. You! Hate is better than +being alone! Death is better! I expected . . . +anything. Something to expect. Something to take +me out of this. Out of her sight!" + He laughed. His laugh seemed to be torn out from +him against his will, seemed to be brought violently on +the surface from under his bitterness, his self-contempt, +from under his despairing wonder at his own nature. + "When I think that when I first knew her it seemed +to me that my whole life wouldn't be enough to . . . +And now when I look at her! She did it all. I must +have been mad. I was mad. Every time I look at her +I remember my madness. It frightens me. . . . +And when I think that of all my life, of all my past, of +all my future, of my intelligence, of my work, there is +nothing left but she, the cause of my ruin, and you whom +I have mortally offended . . ." + He hid his face for a moment in his hands, and when +he took them away he had lost the appearance of com- +parative calm and gave way to a wild distress. + "Captain Lingard . . . anything . . . a +deserted island . . . anywhere . . . I prom- +ise . . ." + "Shut up!" shouted Lingard, roughly. + He became dumb, suddenly, completely. + The wan light of the clouded morning retired slowly +from the courtyard, from the clearings, from the river, +as if it had gone unwillingly to hide in the enigmatical + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 275 + +solitudes of the gloomy and silent forests. The clouds +over their heads thickened into a low vault of uniform +blackness. The air was still and inexpressibly oppres- +sive. Lingard unbuttoned his jacket, flung it wide open +and, inclining his body sideways a little, wiped his fore- +head with his hand, which he jerked sharply afterwards. +Then he looked at Willems and said-- + "No promise of yours is any good to me. I am +going to take your conduct into my own hands. Pay +attention to what I am going to say. You are my +prisoner." + Willems' head moved imperceptibly; then he became +rigid and still. He seemed not to breathe. + "You shall stay here," continued Lingard, with +sombre deliberation. "You are not fit to go amongst +people. Who could suspect, who could guess, who +could imagine what's in you? I couldn't! You are +my mistake. I shall hide you here. If I let you out +you would go amongst unsuspecting men, and lie, +and steal, and cheat for a little money or for some +woman. I don't care about shooting you. It would +be the safest way though. But I won't. Do not +expect me to forgive you. To forgive one must have +been angry and become contemptuous, and there is +nothing in me now--no anger, no contempt, no disap- +pointment. To me you are not Willems, the man I +befriended and helped through thick and thin, and +thought much of . . . You are not a human being +that may be destroyed or forgiven. You are a bitter +thought, a something without a body and that must be +hidden . . . You are my shame." + He ceased and looked slowly round. How dark it +was! It seemed to him that the light was dying pre- +maturely out of the world and that the air was already +dead. + + +276 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Of course," he went on, "I shall see to it that you +don't starve." + "You don't mean to say that I must live here, Cap- +tain Lingard?" said Willems, in a kind of mechanical +voice without any inflections. + "Did you ever hear me say something I did not +mean?" asked Lingard. "You said you didn't want +to die here--well, you must live . . . Unless you +change your mind," he added, as if in involuntary +afterthought. + He looked at Willems narrowly, then shook his +head. + "You are alone," he went on. "Nothing can help +you. Nobody will. You are neither white nor brown. +You have no colour as you have no heart. Your ac- +complices have abandoned you to me because I am still +somebody to be reckoned with. You are alone but for +that woman there. You say you did this for her. +Well, you have her." + Willems mumbled something, and then suddenly +caught his hair with both his hands and remained +standing so. Aissa, who had been looking at him, +turned to Lingard. + "What did you say, Rajah Laut?" she cried. + There was a slight stir amongst the filmy threads +of her disordered hair, the bushes by the river sides +trembled, the big tree nodded precipitately over them +with an abrupt rustle, as if waking with a start from +a troubled sleep--and the breath of hot breeze passed, +light, rapid, and scorching, under the clouds that +whirled round, unbroken but undulating, like a rest- +less phantom of a sombre sea. + Lingard looked at her pityingly before he said-- + "I have told him that he must live here all his life +. . . and with you." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 277 + + The sun seemed to have gone out at last like a +flickering light away up beyond the clouds, and in the +stifling gloom of the courtyard the three figures stood +colourless and shadowy, as if surrounded by a black +and superheated mist. Aissa looked at Willems, who +remained still, as though he had been changed into +stone in the very act of tearing his hair. Then she +turned her head towards Lingard and shouted-- + "You lie! You lie! . . . White man. Like +you all do. You . . . whom Abdulla made small. +You lie!" + Her words rang out shrill and venomous with her +secret scorn, with her overpowering desire to wound +regardless of consequences; in her woman's reckless +desire to cause suffering at any cost, to cause it by the +sound of her own voice--by her own voice, that would +carry the poison of her thought into the hated heart. + Willems let his hands fall, and began to mumble +again. Lingard turned his ear towards him instinc- +tively, caught something that sounded like "Very +well"--then some more mumbling--then a sigh. + "As far as the rest of the world is concerned," said +Lingard, after waiting for awhile in an attentive at- +titude, "your life is finished. Nobody will be able to +throw any of your villainies in my teeth; nobody will be +able to point at you and say, 'Here goes a scoundrel +of Lingard's up-bringing.' You are buried here." + "And you think that I will stay . . . that I will +submit?" exclaimed Willems, as if he had suddenly +recovered the power of speech. + "You needn't stay here--on this spot," said Lingard, +drily. "There are the forests--and here is the river. +You may swim. Fifteen miles up, or forty down. At +one end you will meet Almayer, at the other the sea. +Take your choice." + + +278 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +He burst into a short, joyless laugh, then added with +severe gravity-- + "There is also another way." + "If you want to drive my soul into damnation by +trying to drive me to suicide you will not succeed," +said Willems in wild excitement. "I will live. I +shall repent. I may escape. . . . Take that +woman away--she is sin." + A hooked dart of fire tore in two the darkness of +the distant horizon and lit up the gloom of the earth +with a dazzling and ghastly flame. Then the thunder +was heard far away, like an incredibly enormous voice +muttering menaces. + Lingard said-- + "I don't care what happens, but I may tell you +that without that woman your life is not worth much +--not twopence. There is a fellow here who . . . +and Abdulla himself wouldn't stand on any ceremony. +Think of that! And then she won't go." + He began, even while he spoke, to walk slowly down +towards the little gate. He didn't look, but he felt as +sure that Willems was following him as if he had been +leading him by a string. Directly he had passed +through the wicket-gate into the big courtyard he heard +a voice, behind his back, saying-- + "I think she was right. I ought to have shot you. +I couldn't have been worse off." + "Time yet," answered Lingard, without stopping or +looking back. "But, you see, you can't. There is not +even that in you." + "Don't provoke me, Captain Lingard," cried Wil- +lems. + Lingard turned round sharply. Willems and Aissa +stopped. Another forked flash of lightning split up the +clouds overhead, and threw upon their faces a sudden + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 279 + +burst of light--a blaze violent, sinister and fleeting; +and in the same instant they were deafened by a near, +single crash of thunder, which was followed by a +rushing noise, like a frightened sigh of the startled +earth. + "Provoke you!" said the old adventurer, as soon as +he could make himself heard. "Provoke you! Hey! +What's there in you to provoke? What do I care?" + "It is easy to speak like that when you know that +in the whole world--in the whole world--I have no +friend," said Willems. + "Whose fault?" said Lingard, sharply. + Their voices, after the deep and tremendous noise, +sounded to them very unsatisfactory--thin and frail, +like the voices of pigmies--and they became suddenly +silent, as if on that account. From up the courtyard +Lingard's boatmen came down and passed them, keep- +ing step in a single file, their paddles on shoulder, and +holding their heads straight with their eyes fixed on +the river. Ali, who was walking last, stopped before +Lingard, very stiff and upright. He said-- + "That one-eyed Babalatchi is gone, with all his +women. He took everything. All the pots and boxes. +Big. Heavy. Three boxes." + He grinned as if the thing had been amusing, then +added with an appearance of anxious concern, "Rain +coming." + "We return," said Lingard. "Make ready." + "Aye, aye, sir!" ejaculated Ali with precision, and +moved on. He had been quartermaster with Lingard +before making up his mind to stay in Sambir as Al- +mayer's head man. He strutted towards the landing- +place thinking proudly that he was not like those other +ignorant boatmen, and knew how to answer properly +the very greatest of white captains. + + +280 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "You have misunderstood me from the first, Captain +Lingard," said Willems. + "Have I? It's all right, as long as there is no mis- +take about my meaning," answered Lingard, strolling +slowly to the landing-place. Willems followed him, and +Aissa followed Willems. + Two hands were extended to help Lingard in embark- +ing. He stepped cautiously and heavily into the long +and narrow canoe, and sat in the canvas folding-chair +that had been placed in the middle. He leaned back +and turned his head to the two figures that stood on the +bank a little above him. Aissa's eyes were fastened on +his face in a visible impatience to see him gone. Wil- +lems' look went straight above the canoe, straight at the +forest on the other side of the river. + "All right, Ali," said Lingard, in a low voice. + A slight stir animated the faces, and a faint murmur +ran along the line of paddlers. The foremost man +pushed with the point of his paddle, canted the fore +end out of the dead water into the current; and the +canoe fell rapidly off before the rush of brown water, +the stern rubbing gently against the low bank. + "We shall meet again, Captain Lingard!" cried +Willems, in an unsteady voice. + "Never!" said Lingard, turning half round in his +chair to look at Willems. His fierce red eyes glittered +remorselessly over the high back of his seat. + "Must cross the river. Water less quick over there," +said Ali. + He pushed in his turn now with all his strength, +throwing his body recklessly right out over the stern. +Then he recovered himself just in time into the squat- +ting attitude of a monkey perched on a high shelf, and +shouted: "Dayong!" + The paddles struck the water together. The canoe + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 281 + +darted forward and went on steadily crossing the river +with a sideways motion made up of its own speed and +the downward drift of the current. + Lingard watched the shore astern. The woman +shook her hand at him, and then squatted at the feet +of the man who stood motionless. After a while she got +up and stood beside him, reaching up to his head--and +Lingard saw then that she had wetted some part of her +covering and was trying to wash the dried blood off +the man's immovable face, which did not seem to know +anything about it. Lingard turned away and threw +himself back in his chair, stretching his legs out with a +sigh of fatigue. His head fell forward; and under his +red face the white beard lay fan-like on his breast, the +ends of fine long hairs all astir in the faint draught made +by the rapid motion of the craft that carried him away +from his prisoner--from the only thing in his life he +wished to hide. + In its course across the river the canoe came into +the line of Willems' sight and his eyes caught the +image, followed it eagerly as it glided, small but dis- +tinct, on the dark background of the forest. He could +see plainly the figure of the man sitting in the middle. +All his life he had felt that man behind his back, a reas- +suring presence ready with help, with commendation, +with advice; friendly in reproof, enthusiastic in appro- +bation; a man inspiring confidence by his strength, by +his fearlessness, by the very weakness of his simple +heart. And now that man was going away. He must +call him back. + He shouted, and his words, which he wanted to +throw across the river, seemed to fall helplessly at his +feet. Aissa put her hand on his arm in a restraining +attempt, but he shook it off. He wanted to call back +his very life that was going away from him. He shouted + + +282 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +again--and this time he did not even hear himself. No +use. He would never return. And he stood in sullen +silence looking at the white figure over there, lying back +in the chair in the middle of the boat; a figure that struck +him suddenly as very terrible, heartless and astonishing, +with its unnatural appearance of running over the water +in an attitude of languid repose. + For a time nothing on earth stirred, seemingly, but +the canoe, which glided up-stream with a motion so +even and smooth that it did not convey any sense of +movement. Overhead, the massed clouds appeared +solid and steady as if held there in a powerful grip, but +on their uneven surface there was a continuous and +trembling glimmer, a faint reflection of the distant +lightning from the thunderstorm that had broken al- +ready on the coast and was working its way up the river +with low and angry growls. Willems looked on, as +motionless as everything round him and above him. +Only his eyes seemed to live, as they followed the canoe +on its course that carried it away from him, steadily, +unhesitatingly, finally, as if it were going, not up the +great river into the momentous excitement of Sambir, +but straight into the past, into the past crowded yet +empty, like an old cemetery full of neglected graves, +where lie dead hopes that never return. + From time to time he felt on his face the passing, +warm touch of an immense breath coming from beyond +the forest, like the short panting of an oppressed world. +Then the heavy air round him was pierced by a sharp +gust of wind, bringing with it the fresh, damp feel of the +falling rain; and all the innumerable tree-tops of the +forests swayed to the left and sprang back again in a +tumultuous balancing of nodding branches and shudder- +ing leaves. A light frown ran over the river, the clouds +stirred slowly, changing their aspect but not their place, + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 283 + +as if they had turned ponderously over; and when the +sudden movement had died out in a quickened tremor +of the slenderest twigs, there was a short period of for- +midable immobility above and below, during which the +voice of the thunder was heard, speaking in a sustained, +emphatic and vibrating roll, with violent louder bursts +of crashing sound, like a wrathful and threatening dis- +course of an angry god. For a moment it died out, and +then another gust of wind passed, driving before it a +white mist which filled the space with a cloud of water- +dust that hid suddenly from Willems the canoe, the +forests, the river itself; that woke him up from his +numbness in a forlorn shiver, that made him look round +despairingly to see nothing but the whirling drift of rain +spray before the freshening breeze, while through it +the heavy big drops fell about him with sonorous +and rapid beats upon the dry earth. He made a few +hurried steps up the courtyard and was arrested by an +immense sheet of water that fell all at once on him, fell +sudden and overwhelming from the clouds, cutting +his respiration, streaming over his head, clinging to him, +running down his body, off his arms, off his legs. He +stood gasping while the water beat him in a vertical +downpour, drove on him slanting in squalls, and he +felt the drops striking him from above, from every- +where; drops thick, pressed and dashing at him as if +flung from all sides by a mob of infuriated hands. From +under his feet a great vapour of broken water floated up, +he felt the ground become soft--melt under him--and +saw the water spring out from the dry earth to meet +the water that fell from the sombre heaven. An insane +dread took possession of him, the dread of all that water +around him, of the water that ran down the courtyard +towards him, of the water that pressed him on every +side, of the slanting water that drove across his face in + + +284 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +wavering sheets which gleamed pale red with the flicker +of lightning streaming through them, as if fire and water +were falling together, monstrously mixed, upon the +stunned earth. + He wanted to run away, but when he moved it was +to slide about painfully and slowly upon that earth +which had become mud so suddenly under his feet. He +fought his way up the courtyard like a man pushing +through a crowd, his head down, one shoulder forward, +stopping often, and sometimes carried back a pace or +two in the rush of water which his heart was not stout +enough to face. Aissa followed him step by step, +stopping when he stopped, recoiling with him, moving +forward with him in his toilsome way up the slippery +declivity of the courtyard, of that courtyard, from which +everything seemed to have been swept away by the +first rush of the mighty downpour. They could see +nothing. The tree, the bushes, the house, and the +fences--all had disappeared in the thickness of the fall- +ing rain. Their hair stuck, streaming, to their heads; +their clothing clung to them, beaten close to their bodies; +water ran off them, off their heads over their shoulders. +They moved, patient, upright, slow and dark, in the +gleam clear or fiery of the falling drops, under the roll +of unceasing thunder, like two wandering ghosts of the +drowned that, condemned to haunt the water for ever, +had come up from the river to look at the world under a +deluge. + On the left the tree seemed to step out to meet +them, appearing vaguely, high, motionless and patient; +with a rustling plaint of its innumerable leaves through +which every drop of water tore its separate way with +cruel haste. And then, to the right, the house surged +up in the mist, very black, and clamorous with the +quick patter of rain on its high-pitched roof above the + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 285 + +steady splash of the water running off the eaves. +Down the plankway leading to the door flowed a +thin and pellucid stream, and when Willems began +his ascent it broke over his foot as if he were going +up a steep ravine in the bed of a rapid and shallow +torrent. Behind his heels two streaming smudges of +mud stained for an instant the purity of the rushing +water, and then he splashed his way up with a spurt +and stood on the bamboo platform before the open +door under the shelter of the overhanging eaves-- +under shelter at last! + A low moan ending in a broken and plaintive mutter +arrested Willems on the threshold. He peered round +in the half-light under the roof and saw the old woman +crouching close to the wall in a shapeless heap, and +while he looked he felt a touch of two arms on his +shoulders. Aissa! He had forgotten her. He turned, +and she clasped him round the neck instantly, pressing +close to him as if afraid of violence or escape. He +stiffened himself in repulsion, in horror, in the myster- +ious revolt of his heart; while she clung to him--clung +to him as if he were a refuge from misery, from storm, +from weariness, from fear, from despair; and it was on +the part of that being an embrace terrible, enraged and +mournful, in which all her strength went out to make +him captive, to hold him for ever. + He said nothing. He looked into her eyes while he +struggled with her fingers about the nape of his neck, +and suddenly he tore her hands apart, holding her arms +up in a strong grip of her wrists, and bending his swol- +len face close over hers, he said-- + "It is all your doing. You . . ." + She did not understand him--not a word. He +spoke in the language of his people--of his people that +know no mercy and no shame. And he was angry. + + +286 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +Alas! he was always angry now, and always speaking +words that she could not understand. She stood in +silence, looking at him through her patient eyes, while +he shook her arms a little and then flung them down. + "Don't follow me!" he shouted. "I want to be alone +--I mean to be left alone!" + He went in, leaving the door open. + She did not move. What need to understand the +words when they are spoken in such a voice? In that +voice which did not seem to be his voice--his voice +when he spoke by the brook, when he was never angry +and always smiling! Her eyes were fixed upon the +dark doorway, but her hands strayed mechanically +upwards; she took up all her hair, and, inclining her +head slightly over her shoulder, wrung out the long +black tresses, twisting them persistently, while she stood, +sad and absorbed, like one listening to an inward voice-- +the voice of bitter, of unavailing regret. The thunder +had ceased, the wind had died out, and the rain fell +perpendicular and steady through a great pale clearness +--the light of remote sun coming victorious from +amongst the dissolving blackness of the clouds. She +stood near the doorway. He was there--alone in the +gloom of the dwelling. He was there. He spoke not. +What was in his mind now? What fear? What de- +sire? Not the desire of her as in the days when he used +to smile . . . How could she know? . . . + A sigh coming from the bottom of her heart, flew +out into the world through her parted lips. A sigh +faint, profound, and broken; a sigh full of pain and fear, +like the sigh of those who are about to face the unknown: +to face it in loneliness, in doubt, and without hope. +She let go her hair, that fell scattered over her shoulders +like a funeral veil, and she sank down suddenly by the +door. Her hands clasped her ankles; she rested her + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 287 + +head on her drawn-up knees, and remained still, very +still, under the streaming mourning of her hair. She +was thinking of him; of the days by the brook; she was +thinking of all that had been their love--and she sat +in the abandoned posture of those who sit weeping by +the dead, of those who watch and mourn over a corpse. + +[page intentionally blank] + + PART V + +[page intentionally blank] + + + + CHAPTER ONE + + ALMAYER propped, alone on the verandah of his house, +with both his elbows on the table, and holding his +head between his hands, stared before him, away over +the stretch of sprouting young grass in his courtyard, +and over the short jetty with its cluster of small canoes, +amongst which his big whale-boat floated high, like +a white mother of all that dark and aquatic brood. +He stared on the river, past the schooner anchored in +mid-stream, past the forests of the left bank; he stared +through and past the illusion of the material world. + The sun was sinking. Under the sky was stretched +a network of white threads, a network fine and close- +meshed, where here and there were caught thicker +white vapours of globular shape; and to the eastward, +above the ragged barrier of the forests, surged the +summits of a chain of great clouds, growing bigger +slowly, in imperceptible motion, as if careful not to dis- +turb the glowing stillness of the earth and of the sky. +Abreast of the house the river was empty but for the +motionless schooner. Higher up, a solitary log came +out from the bend above and went on drifting slowly +down the straight reach: a dead and wandering tree +going out to its grave in the sea, between two ranks of +trees motionless and living. + And Almayer sat, his face in his hands, looking on +and hating all this: the muddy river; the faded blue +of the sky; the black log passing by on its first and +last voyage; the green sea of leaves--the sea that +glowed shimmered, and stirred above the uniform and + +291 + + +292 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +impenetrable gloom of the forests--the joyous sea of +living green powdered with the brilliant dust of oblique +sunrays. He hated all this; he begrudged every day +--every minute--of his life spent amongst all these +things; he begrudged it bitterly, angrily, with enraged +and immense regret, like a miser compelled to give up +some of his treasure to a near relation. And yet all +this was very precious to him. It was the present +sign of a splendid future. + He pushed the table away impatiently, got up, +made a few steps aimlessly, then stood by the balus- +trade and again looked at the river--at that river +which would have been the instrument for the making +of his fortune if . . . if . . . + "What an abominable brute!" he said. + He was alone, but he spoke aloud, as one is apt to +do under the impulse of a strong, of an overmastering +thought. + "What a brute!" he muttered again. + The river was dark now, and the schooner lay on +it, a black, a lonely, and a graceful form, with the +slender masts darting upwards from it in two frail +and raking lines. The shadows of the evening crept +up the trees, crept up from bough to bough, till at +last the long sunbeams coursing from the western +horizon skimmed lightly over the topmost branches, +then flew upwards amongst the piled-up clouds, giving +them a sombre and fiery aspect in the last flush of +light. And suddenly the light disappeared as if lost in +the immensity of the great, blue, and empty hollow +overhead. The sun had set: and the forests became +a straight wall of formless blackness. Above them, on +the edge of lingering clouds, a single star glimmered +fitfully, obscured now and then by the rapid flight of +high and invisible vapours. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 293 + + Almayer fought with the uneasiness within his +breast. He heard Ali, who moved behind him prepar- +ing his evening meal, and he listened with strange +attention to the sounds the man made--to the short, +dry bang of the plate put upon the table, to the clink +of glass and the metallic rattle of knife and fork. The +man went away. Now he was coming back. He +would speak directly; and Almayer, notwithstanding +the absorbing gravity of his thoughts, listened for the +sound of expected words. He heard them, spoken in +English with painstaking distinctness. + "Ready, sir!" + "All right," said Almayer, curtly. He did not move. +He remained pensive, with his back to the table upon +which stood the lighted lamp brought by Ali. He +was thinking: Where was Lingard now? Halfway +down the river probably, in Abdulla's ship. He would +be back in about three days--perhaps less. And then? +Then the schooner would have to be got out of the river, +and when that craft was gone they--he and Lingard-- +would remain here; alone with the constant thought +of that other man, that other man living near them! +What an extraordinary idea to keep him there for ever. +For ever! What did that mean--for ever? Perhaps +a year, perhaps ten years. Preposterous! Keep him +there ten years--or may be twenty! The fellow was +capable of living more than twenty years. And for all +that time he would have to be watched, fed, looked after. +There was nobody but Lingard to have such notions. +Twenty years! Why, no! In less than ten years +their fortune would be made and they would leave +this place, first for Batavia--yes, Batavia--and then +for Europe. England, no doubt. Lingard would +want to go to England. And would they leave that +man here? How would that fellow look in ten years? + + +294 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +Very old probably. Well, devil take him. Nina +would be fifteen. She would be rich and very pretty +and he himself would not be so old then. . . ." + Almayer smiled into the night. + . . . Yes, rich! Why! Of course! Captain +Lingard was a resourceful man, and he had plenty of +money even now. They were rich already; but not +enough. Decidedly not enough. Money brings +money. That gold business was good. Famous! +Captain Lingard was a remarkable man. He said the +gold was there--and it was there. Lingard knew what +he was talking about. But he had queer ideas. For +instance, about Willems. Now what did he want to +keep him alive for? Why? + "That scoundrel," muttered Almayer again. + "Makan Tuan!" ejaculated Ali suddenly, very loud +in a pressing tone. + Almayer walked to the table, sat down, and his +anxious visage dropped from above into the light +thrown down by the lamp-shade. He helped himself +absently, and began to eat in great mouthfuls. + . . . Undoubtedly, Lingard was the man to stick +to! The man undismayed, masterful and ready. How +quickly he had planned a new future when Willems' +treachery destroyed their established position in +Sambir! And the position even now was not so bad. +What an immense prestige that Lingard had with all +those people--Arabs, Malays and all. Ah, it was good +to be able to call a man like that father. Fine! Won- +der how much money really the old fellow had. People +talked--they exaggerated surely, but if he had only +half of what they said . . . + He drank, throwing his head up, and fell to again. + . . . Now, if that Willems had known how to play +his cards well, had he stuck to the old fellow he would + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 295 + +have been in his position, he would be now married +to Lingard's adopted daughter with his future assured +--splendid . . . + "The beast!" growled Almayer, between two mouth- +fuls. + Ali stood rigidly straight with an uninterested face, +his gaze lost in the night which pressed round the +small circle of light that shone on the table, on the +glass, on the bottle, and on Almayer's head as he +leaned over his plate moving his jaws. + . . . A famous man Lingard--yet you never knew +what he would do next. It was notorious that he had +shot a white man once for less than Willems had done. +For less? . . . Why, for nothing, so to speak! It +was not even his own quarrel. It was about some +Malay returning from pilgrimage with wife and children. +Kidnapped, or robbed, or something. A stupid story-- +an old story. And now he goes to see that Willems +and--nothing. Comes back talking big about his +prisoner; but after all he said very little. What did +that Willems tell him? What passed between them? +The old fellow must have had something in his mind +when he let that scoundrel off. And Joanna! She +would get round the old fellow. Sure. Then he would +forgive perhaps. Impossible. But at any rate he +would waste a lot of money on them. The old man +was tenacious in his hates, but also in his affections. +He had known that beast Willems from a boy. They +would make it up in a year or so. Everything is +possible: why did he not rush off at first and kill the +brute? That would have been more like Lingard. . . . + Almayer laid down his spoon suddenly, and pushing +his plate away, threw himself back in the chair. + . . . Unsafe. Decidedly unsafe. He had no +mind to share Lingard's money with anybody. Lin- + + +296 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +gard's money was Nina's money in a sense. And if +Willems managed to become friendly with the old +man it would be dangerous for him--Almayer. Such +an unscrupulous scoundrel! He would oust him from his +position. He would lie and slander. Everything would +be lost. Lost. Poor Nina. What would become of her? +Poor child. For her sake he must remove that Wil- +lems. Must. But how? Lingard wanted to be obeyed. +Impossible to kill Willems. Lingard might be angry. +Incredible, but so it was. He might . . . + A wave of heat passed through Almayer's body, +flushed his face, and broke out of him in copious +perspiration. He wriggled in his chair, and pressed +his hands together under the table. What an awful +prospect! He fancied he could see Lingard and +Willems reconciled and going away arm-in-arm, leaving +him alone in this God-forsaken hole--in Sambir--in +this deadly swamp! And all his sacrifices, the sacrifice +of his independence, of his best years, his surrender to +Lingard's fancies and caprices, would go for nothing! +Horrible! Then he thought of his little daughter--his +daughter!--and the ghastliness of his supposition over- +powered him. He had a deep emotion, a sudden emo- +tion that made him feel quite faint at the idea of that +young life spoiled before it had fairly begun. His dear +child's life! Lying back in his chair he covered his +face with both his hands. + Ali glanced down at him and said, unconcernedly-- +"Master finish?" + Almayer was lost in the immensity of his com- +miseration for himself, for his daughter, who was-- +perhaps--not going to be the richest woman in the +world--notwithstanding Lingard's promises. He did +not understand the other's question, and muttered +through his fingers in a doleful tone-- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 297 + + "What did you say? What? Finish what?" + "Clear up meza," explained Ali. + "Clear up!" burst out Almayer, with incompre- +hensible exasperation. "Devil take you and the table. +Stupid! Chatterer! Chelakka! Get out!" + He leaned forward, glaring at his head man, then +sank back in his seat with his arms hanging straight +down on each side of the chair. And he sat motion- +less in a meditation so concentrated and so absorbing, +with all his power of thought so deep within himself, +that all expression disappeared from his face in an +aspect of staring vacancy. + Ali was clearing the table. He dropped negligently +the tumbler into the greasy dish, flung there the spoon +and fork, then slipped in the plate with a push amongst +the remnants of food. He took up the dish, tucked +up the bottle under his armpit, and went off. + "My hammock!" shouted Almayer after him. + "Ada! I come soon," answered Ali from the door- +way in an offended tone, looking back over his shoulder. +. . . How could he clear the table and hang the +hammock at the same time. Ya-wa! Those white +men were all alike. Wanted everything done at once. +Like children . . . + The indistinct murmur of his criticism went away, +faded and died out together with the soft footfall of his +bare feet in the dark passage. + For some time Almayer did not move. His thoughts +were busy at work shaping a momentous resolution, +and in the perfect silence of the house he believed that +he could hear the noise of the operation as if the work +had been done with a hammer. He certainly felt a +thumping of strokes, faint, profound, and startling, +somewhere low down in his breast; and he was aware +of a sound of dull knocking, abrupt and rapid, in his + + +298 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +ears. Now and then he held his breath, unconsciously, +too long, and had to relieve himself by a deep expiration +that whistled dully through his pursed lips. The +lamp standing on the far side of the table threw a +section of a lighted circle on the floor, where his out- +stretched legs stuck out from under the table with feet +rigid and turned up like the feet of a corpse; and his +set face with fixed eyes would have been also like the +face of the dead, but for its vacant yet conscious aspect; +the hard, the stupid, the stony aspect of one not dead, +but only buried under the dust, ashes, and corruption +of personal thoughts, of base fears, of selfish desires. + "I will do it!" + Not till he heard his own voice did he know that +he had spoken. It startled him. He stood up. The +knuckles of his hand, somewhat behind him, were +resting on the edge of the table as he remained still +with one foot advanced, his lips a little open, and +thought: It would not do to fool about with Lingard. +But I must risk it. It's the only way I can see. I must +tell her. She has some little sense. I wish they were +a thousand miles off already. A hundred thousand +miles. I do. And if it fails. And she blabs out then +to Lingard? She seemed a fool. No; probably they +will get away. And if they did, would Lingard be- +lieve me? Yes. I never lied to him. He would +believe. I don't know . . . Perhaps he won't. +. . . "I must do it. Must!" he argued aloud to +himself. + For a long time he stood still, looking before him +with an intense gaze, a gaze rapt and immobile, that +seemed to watch the minute quivering of a delicate +balance, coming to a rest. + To the left of him, in the whitewashed wall of +the house that formed the back of the verandah, there + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 299 + +was a closed door. Black letters were painted on it +proclaiming the fact that behind that door there was +the office of Lingard & Co. The interior had been +furnished by Lingard when he had built the house +for his adopted daughter and her husband, and it had +been furnished with reckless prodigality. There was +an office desk, a revolving chair, bookshelves, a safe: +all to humour the weakness of Almayer, who thought +all those paraphernalia necessary to successful trading. +Lingard had laughed, but had taken immense trouble +to get the things. It pleased him to make his <i>protege</I>, +his adopted son-in-law, happy. It had been the +sensation of Sambir some five years ago. While +the things were being landed, the whole settlement +literally lived on the river bank in front of the Rajah +Laut's house, to look, to wonder, to admire. . . . +What a big meza, with many boxes fitted all over it +and under it! What did the white man do with +such a table? And look, look, O Brothers! There +is a green square box, with a gold plate on it, a box +so heavy that those twenty men cannot drag it +up the bank. Let us go, brothers, and help pull +at the ropes, and perchance we may see what's inside. +Treasure, no doubt. Gold is heavy and hard to +hold, O Brothers! Let us go and earn a recom- +pense from the fierce Rajah of the Sea who shouts over +there, with a red face. See! There is a man carrying +a pile of books from the boat! What a number of +books. What were they for? . . . And an old in- +valided jurumudi, who had travelled over many seas +and had heard holy men speak in far-off countries, +explained to a small knot of unsophisticated citizens +of Sambir that those books were books of magic-- +of magic that guides the white men's ships over the +seas, that gives them their wicked wisdom and their + + +300 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +strength; of magic that makes them great, powerful, +and irresistible while they live, and--praise be to +Allah!--the victims of Satan, the slaves of Jehannum +when they die. + And when he saw the room furnished, Almayer +had felt proud. In his exultation of an empty-headed +quill-driver, he thought himself, by the virtue of that +furniture, at the head of a serious business. He had +sold himself to Lingard for these things--married the +Malay girl of his adoption for the reward of these things +and of the great wealth that must necessarily follow +upon conscientious book-keeping. He found out very +soon that trade in Sambir meant something entirely +different. He could not guide Patalolo, control the +irrepressible old Sahamin, or restrain the youthful +vagaries of the fierce Bahassoen with pen, ink, and +paper. He found no successful magic in the blank +pages of his ledgers; and gradually he lost his old point +of view in the saner appreciation of his situation. The +room known as the office became neglected then like a +temple of an exploded superstition. At first, when his +wife reverted to her original savagery, Almayer, now +and again, had sought refuge from her there; but after +their child began to speak, to know him, he became +braver, for he found courage and consolation in his +unreasoning and fierce affection for his daughter--in +the impenetrable mantle of selfishness he wrapped +round both their lives: round himself, and that young +life that was also his. + When Lingard ordered him to receive Joanna into +his house, he had a truckle bed put into the office-- +the only room he could spare. The big office desk +was pushed on one side, and Joanna came with her +little shabby trunk and with her child and took pos- +session in her dreamy, slack, half-asleep way; took + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 301 + +possession of the dust, dirt, and squalor, where she +appeared naturally at home, where she dragged a +melancholy and dull existence; an existence made up of +sad remorse and frightened hope, amongst the hopeless +disorder--the senseless and vain decay of all these +emblems of civilized commerce. Bits of white stuff; +rags yellow, pink, blue: rags limp, brilliant and soiled, +trailed on the floor, lay on the desk amongst the sombre +covers of books soiled, grimy, but stiff-backed, in virtue, +perhaps, of their European origin. The biggest set of +bookshelves was partly hidden by a petticoat, the waist- +band of which was caught upon the back of a slender +book pulled a little out of the row so as to make an +improvised clothespeg. The folding canvas bedstead +stood nearly in the middle of the room, stood anyhow, +parallel to no wall, as if it had been, in the process of +transportation to some remote place, dropped casually +there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled blankets +that lay in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat +almost all day with her stockingless feet upon one of +the bed pillows that were somehow always kicking +about the floor. She sat there, vaguely tormented at +times by the thought of her absent husband, but most +of the time thinking tearfully of nothing at all, looking +with swimming eyes at her little son--at the big- +headed, pasty-faced, and sickly Louis Willems--who +rolled a glass inkstand, solid with dried ink, about the +floor, and tottered after it with the portentous gravity +of demeanour and absolute absorption by the business +in hand that characterize the pursuits of early child- +hood. Through the half-open shutter a ray of sunlight, +a ray merciless and crude, came into the room, beat +in the early morning upon the safe in the far-off corner, +then, travelling against the sun, cut at midday the big +desk in two with its solid and clean-edged brilliance; + + +302 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +with its hot brilliance in which a swarm of flies hovered +in dancing flight over some dirty plate forgotten there +amongst yellow papers for many a day. And towards +the evening the cynical ray seemed to cling to the +ragged petticoat, lingered on it with wicked enjoyment +of that misery it had exposed all day; lingered on the +corner of the dusty bookshelf, in a red glow intense and +mocking, till it was suddenly snatched by the setting +sun out of the way of the coming night. And the +night entered the room. The night abrupt, impene- +trable and all-filling with its flood of darkness; the night +cool and merciful; the blind night that saw nothing, but +could hear the fretful whimpering of the child, the +creak of the bedstead, Joanna's deep sighs as she turned +over, sleepless, in the confused conviction of her wicked- +ness, thinking of that man masterful, fair-headed, and +strong--a man hard perhaps, but her husband; her +clever and handsome husband to whom she had acted so +cruelly on the advice of bad people, if her own people; +and of her poor, dear, deceived mother. + To Almayer, Joanna's presence was a constant +worry, a worry unobtrusive yet intolerable; a constant, +but mostly mute, warning of possible danger. In +view of the absurd softness of Lingard's heart, every +one in whom Lingard manifested the slightest interest +was to Almayer a natural enemy. He was quite +alive to that feeling, and in the intimacy of the secret +intercourse with his inner self had often congratu- +lated himself upon his own wide-awake comprehension +of his position. In that way, and impelled by that +motive, Almayer had hated many and various persons +at various times. But he never had hated and feared +anybody so much as he did hate and fear Willems. +Even after Willems' treachery, which seemed to re- +move him beyond the pale of all human sympathy, + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 303 + +Almayer mistrusted the situation and groaned in +spirit every time he caught sight of Joanna. + He saw her very seldom in the daytime. But in +the short and opal-tinted twilights, or in the azure +dusk of starry evenings, he often saw, before he slept, +the slender and tall figure trailing to and fro the rag- +ged tail of its white gown over the dried mud of the +riverside in front of the house. Once or twice when +he sat late on the verandah, with his feet upon the +deal table on a level with the lamp, reading the seven +months' old copy of the <i>North China Herald</i>, brought +by Lingard, he heard the stairs creak, and, looking +round the paper, he saw her frail and meagre form rise +step by step and toil across the verandah, carrying with +difficulty the big, fat child, whose head, lying on the +mother's bony shoulder, seemed of the same size as +Joanna's own. Several times she had assailed him +with tearful clamour or mad entreaties: asking about +her husband, wanting to know where he was, when he +would be back; and ending every such outburst with +despairing and incoherent self-reproaches that were +absolutely incomprehensible to Almayer. On one or +two occasions she had overwhelmed her host with +vituperative abuse, making him responsible for her +husband's absence. Those scenes, begun without +any warning, ended abruptly in a sobbing flight and a +bang of the door; stirred the house with a sudden, a +fierce, and an evanescent disturbance; like those inex- +plicable whirlwinds that rise, run, and vanish without +apparent cause upon the sun-scorched dead level of +arid and lamentable plains. + But to-night the house was quiet, deadly quiet, +while Almayer stood still, watching that delicate bal- +ance where he was weighing all his chances: Joan- +na's intelligence, Lingard's credulity, Willems' reckless + + +304 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +audacity, desire to escape, readiness to seize an un- +expected opportunity. He weighed, anxious and atten- +tive, his fears and his desires against the tremendous +risk of a quarrel with Lingard. . . . Yes. Lin- +gard would be angry. Lingard might suspect him +of some connivance in his prisoner's escape--but +surely he would not quarrel with him--Almayer-- +about those people once they were gone--gone to the +devil in their own way. And then he had hold of +Lingard through the little girl. Good. What an +annoyance! A prisoner! As if one could keep him +in there. He was bound to get away some time or +other. Of course. A situation like that can't last. +Anybody could see that. Lingard's eccentricity passed +all bounds. You may kill a man, but you mustn't +torture him. It was almost criminal. It caused +worry, trouble, and unpleasantness. . . . Almayer +for a moment felt very angry with Lingard. He made +him responsible for the anguish he suffered from, for +the anguish of doubt and fear; for compelling him-- +the practical and innocent Almayer--to such painful +efforts of mind in order to find out some issue for absurd +situations created by the unreasonable sentimentality +of Lingard's unpractical impulses. + "Now if the fellow were dead it would be all right," +said Almayer to the verandah. + He stirred a little, and scratching his nose thought- +fully, revelled in a short flight of fancy, showing him +his own image crouching in a big boat, that floated +arrested--say fifty yards off--abreast of Willems' +landing-place. In the bottom of the boat there was +a gun. A loaded gun. One of the boatmen would +shout, and Willems would answer--from the bushes. +The rascal would be suspicious. Of course. Then +the man would wave a piece of paper urging Willems + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 305 + +to come to the landing-place and receive an important +message. "From the Rajah Laut" the man would +yell as the boat edged in-shore, and that would fetch +Willems out. Wouldn't it? Rather! And Almayer +saw himself jumping up at the right moment, taking +aim, pulling the trigger--and Willems tumbling over, +his head in the water--the swine! + He seemed to hear the report of the shot. It made +him thrill from head to foot where he stood. . . . +How simple! . . . Unfortunate . . . Lingard +. . . He sighed, shook his head. Pity. Couldn't +be done. And couldn't leave him there either! Sup- +pose the Arabs were to get hold of him again--for in- +stance to lead an expedition up the river! Goodness +only knows what harm would come of it. . . . + The balance was at rest now and inclining to the +side of immediate action. Almayer walked to the +door, walked up very close to it, knocked loudly, and +turned his head away, looking frightened for a moment +at what he had done. After waiting for a while he put +his ear against the panel and listened. Nothing. He +composed his features into an agreeable expression +while he stood listening and thinking to himself: I +hear her. Crying. Eh? I believe she has lost the +little wits she had and is crying night and day since I +began to prepare her for the news of her husband's +death--as Lingard told me. I wonder what she thinks. +It's just like father to make me invent all these stories +for nothing at all. Out of kindness. Kindness! +Damn! . . . She isn't deaf, surely. + He knocked again, then said in a friendly tone, grin- +ning benevolently at the closed door-- + "It's me, Mrs. Willems. I want to speak to you. +I have . . . have . . . important news. . . ." + "What is it?" + + +306 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "News," repeated Almayer, distinctly. "News +about your husband. Your husband! . . . Damn +him!" he added, under his breath. + He heard a stumbling rush inside. Things were +overturned. Joanna's agitated voice cried-- + "News! What? What? I am coming out." + "No," shouted Almayer. "Put on some clothes, +Mrs. Willems, and let me in. It's . . . very con- +fidential. You have a candle, haven't you?" + She was knocking herself about blindly amongst +the furniture in that room. The candlestick was upset. +Matches were struck ineffectually. The matchbox fell. +He heard her drop on her knees and grope over the floor +while she kept on moaning in maddened distraction. + "Oh, my God! News! Yes . . . yes. . . . +Ah! where . . . where . . . candle. Oh, my +God! . . . I can't find . . . Don't go away, +for the love of Heaven . . ." + "I don't want to go away," said Almayer, im- +patiently, through the keyhole; "but look sharp. +It's confi . . . it's pressing." + He stamped his foot lightly, waiting with his hand +on the door-handle. He thought anxiously: The +woman's a perfect idiot. Why should I go away? +She will be off her head. She will never catch my +meaning. She's too stupid. + She was moving now inside the room hurriedly and +in silence. He waited. There was a moment of +perfect stillness in there, and then she spoke in an +exhausted voice, in words that were shaped out of an +expiring sigh--out of a sigh light and profound, like +words breathed out by a woman before going off into +a dead faint-- + "Come in." + He pushed the door. Ali, coming through the + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 307 + +passage with an armful of pillows and blankets pressed +to his breast high up under his chin, caught sight of +his master before the door closed behind him. He +was so astonished that he dropped his bundle and +stood staring at the door for a long time. He heard +the voice of his master talking. Talking to that +Sirani woman! Who was she? He had never thought +about that really. He speculated for a while hazily +upon things in general. She was a Sirani woman-- +and ugly. He made a disdainful grimace, picked up +the bedding, and went about his work, slinging the +hammock between two uprights of the verandah. . . . +Those things did not concern him. She was ugly, and +brought here by the Rajah Laut, and his master spoke +to her in the night. Very well. He, Ali, had his work +to do. Sling the hammock--go round and see that +the watchmen were awake--take a look at the moorings +of the boats, at the padlock of the big storehouse--then +go to sleep. To sleep! He shivered pleasantly. He +leaned with both arms over his master's hammock and +fell into a light doze. + A scream, unexpected, piercing--a scream begin- +ning at once in the highest pitch of a woman's voice +and then cut short, so short that it suggested the swift +work of death--caused Ali to jump on one side away +from the hammock, and the silence that succeeded +seemed to him as startling as the awful shriek. He +was thunderstruck with surprise. Almayer came out +of the office, leaving the door ajar, passed close to his +servant without taking any notice, and made straight +for the water-chatty hung on a nail in a draughty +place. He took it down and came back, missing the +petrified Ali by an inch. He moved with long strides, +yet, notwithstanding his haste, stopped short before +the door, and, throwing his head back, poured a thin + + +309 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +stream of water down his throat. While he came +and went, while he stopped to drink, while he did all +this, there came steadily from the dark room the +sound of feeble and persistent crying, the crying of +a sleepy and frightened child. After he had drunk, +Almayer went in, closing the door carefully. + Ali did not budge. That Sirani woman shrieked! +He felt an immense curiosity very unusual to his +stolid disposition. He could not take his eyes off the +door. Was she dead in there? How interesting and +funny! He stood with open mouth till he heard +again the rattle of the door-handle. Master coming +out. He pivoted on his heels with great rapidity and +made believe to be absorbed in the contemplation of +the night outside. He heard Almayer moving about +behind his back. Chairs were displaced. His master +sat down. + "Ali," said Almayer. + His face was gloomy and thoughtful. He looked +at his head man, who had approached the table, then +he pulled out his watch. It was going. Whenever +Lingard was in Sambir Almayer's watch was going. +He would set it by the cabin clock, telling himself +every time that he must really keep that watch going +for the future. And every time, when Lingard went +away, he would let it run down and would measure +his weariness by sunrises and sunsets in an apathetic +indifference to mere hours; to hours only; to hours +that had no importance in Sambir life, in the tired +stagnation of empty days; when nothing mattered to +him but the quality of guttah and the size of rattans; +where there were no small hopes to be watched for; +where to him there was nothing interesting, nothing +supportable, nothing desirable to expect; nothing bit- +ter but the slowness of the passing days; nothing + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 309 + +sweet but the hope, the distant and glorious hope-- +the hope wearying, aching and precious, of getting +away. + He looked at the watch. Half-past eight. Ali +waited stolidly. + "Go to the settlement," said Almayer, "and tell +Mahmat Banjer to come and speak to me to-night." + Ali went off muttering. He did not like his errand. +Banjer and his two brothers were Bajow vagabonds +who had appeared lately in Sambir and had been allowed +to take possession of a tumbledown abandoned hut, +on three posts, belonging to Lingard & Co., and stand- +ing just outside their fence. Ali disapproved of the +favour shown to those strangers. Any kind of dwelling +was valuable in Sambir at that time, and if master did +not want that old rotten house he might have given it +to him, Ali, who was his servant, instead of bestowing it +upon those bad men. Everybody knew they were +bad. It was well known that they had stolen a boat +from Hinopari, who was very aged and feeble and had +no sons; and that afterwards, by the truculent reckless- +ness of their demeanour, they had frightened the poor +old man into holding his tongue about it. Yet every- +body knew of it. It was one of the tolerated scandals +of Sambir, disapproved and accepted, a manifestation +of that base acquiescence in success, of that inexpressed +and cowardly toleration of strength, that exists, in- +famous and irremediable, at the bottom of all hearts, +in all societies; whenever men congregate; in bigger +and more virtuous places than Sambir, and in Sambir +also, where, as in other places, one man could steal a +boat with impunity while another would have no right +to look at a paddle. + Almayer, leaning back in his chair, meditated. The +more he thought, the more he felt convinced that + + +310 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +Banjer and his brothers were exactly the men he +wanted. Those fellows were sea gipsies, and could +disappear without attracting notice; and if they +returned, nobody--and Lingard least of all--would +dream of seeking information from them. More- +over, they had no personal interest of any kind in +Sambir affairs--had taken no sides--would know +nothing anyway. + He called in a strong voice: "Mrs. Willems!" + She came out quickly, almost startling him, so +much did she appear as though she had surged up +through the floor, on the other side of the table. The +lamp was between them, and Almayer moved it aside, +looking up at her from his chair. She was crying. +She was crying gently, silently, in a ceaseless welling +up of tears that did not fall in drops, but seemed to +overflow in a clear sheet from under her eyelids-- +seemed to flow at once all over her face, her cheeks, +and over her chin that glistened with moisture in the +light. Her breast and her shoulders were shaken +repeatedly by a convulsive and noiseless catching in +her breath, and after every spasmodic sob her sorrow- +ful little head, tied up in a red kerchief, trembled +on her long neck, round which her bony hand gathered +and clasped the disarranged dress. + "Compose yourself, Mrs. Willems," said Almayer. + She emitted an inarticulate sound that seemed to be +a faint, a very far off, a hardly audible cry of mortal +distress. Then the tears went on flowing in profound +stillness. + "You must understand that I have told you all this +because I am your friend--real friend," said Almayer, +after looking at her for some time with visible dissatis- +faction. "You, his wife, ought to know the danger he is +in. Captain Lingard is a terrible man, you know." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 311 + + She blubbered out, sniffing and sobbing together. + "Do you . . . you . . . speak . . . the +. . . the truth now?" + "Upon my word of honour. On the head of my +child," protested Almayer. "I had to deceive you till +now because of Captain Lingard. But I couldn't +bear it. Think only what a risk I run in telling you +--if ever Lingard was to know! Why should I do it? +Pure friendship. Dear Peter was my colleague in +Macassar for years, you know." + "What shall I do . . . what shall I do!" she +exclaimed, faintly, looking around on every side as if +she could not make up her mind which way to rush +off. + "You must help him to clear out, now Lingard is +away. He offended Lingard, and that's no joke. +Lingard said he would kill him. He will do it, too," +said Almayer, earnestly. + She wrung her hands. "Oh! the wicked man. +The wicked, wicked man!" she moaned, swaying her +body from side to side. + "Yes. Yes! He is terrible," assented Almayer. +"You must not lose any time. I say! Do you under- +stand me, Mrs. Willems? Think of your husband. +Of your poor husband. How happy he will be. You +will bring him his life--actually his life. Think of him." + She ceased her swaying movement, and now, with +her head sunk between her shoulders, she hugged +herself with both her arms; and she stared at Almayer +with wild eyes, while her teeth chattered, rattling +violently and uninterruptedly, with a very loud sound, +in the deep peace of the house. + "Oh! Mother of God!" she wailed. "I am a +miserable woman. Will he forgive me? The poor, +innocent man. Will he forgive me? Oh, Mr. Almayer, + + +312 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +he is so severe. Oh! help me. . . . I dare not. +. . . You don't know what I've done to him. +. . . I daren't! . . . I can't! . . . God +help me!" + The last words came in a despairing cry. Had she +been flayed alive she could not have sent to heaven a +more terrible, a more heartrending and anguished plaint. + "Sh! Sh!" hissed Almayer, jumping up. "You +will wake up everybody with your shouting." + She kept on sobbing then without any noise, and +Almayer stared at her in boundless astonishment. +The idea that, maybe, he had done wrong by con- +fiding in her, upset him so much that for a moment +he could not find a connected thought in his head. + At last he said: "I swear to you that your husband +is in such a position that he would welcome the devil +. . . listen well to me . . . the devil himself +if the devil came to him in a canoe. Unless I am much +mistaken,'' he added, under his breath. Then again, +loudly: "If you have any little difference to make up +with him, I assure you--I swear to you--this is your +time!" + The ardently persuasive tone of his words--he +thought--would have carried irresistible conviction +to a graven image. He noticed with satisfaction that +Joanna seemed to have got some inkling of his mean- +ing. He continued, speaking slowly-- + "Look here, Mrs. Willems. I can't do anything. +Daren't. But I will tell you what I will do. There +will come here in about ten minutes a Bugis man-- +you know the language; you are from Macassar. He +has a large canoe; he can take you there. To the +new Rajah's clearing, tell him. They are three broth- +ers, ready for anything if you pay them . . . you +have some money. Haven't you?" + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 313 + + She stood--perhaps listening--but giving no sign +of intelligence, and stared at the floor in sudden im- +mobility, as if the horror of the situation, the over- +whelming sense of her own wickedness and of her +husband's great danger, had stunned her brain, her +heart, her will--had left her no faculty but that of +breathing and of keeping on her feet. Almayer swore +to himself with much mental profanity that he had +never seen a more useless, a more stupid being. + "D'ye hear me?" he said, raising his voice. "Do try +to understand. Have you any money? Money. Dollars. +Guilders. Money! What's the matter with you?" + Without raising her eyes she said, in a voice that +sounded weak and undecided as if she had been making +a desperate effort of memory-- + "The house has been sold. Mr. Hudig was angry." + Almayer gripped the edge of the table with all his +strength. He resisted manfully an almost uncontrol- +lable impulse to fly at her and box her ears. + "It was sold for money, I suppose," he said with +studied and incisive calmness. "Have you got it? +Who has got it?" + She looked up at him, raising her swollen eyelids +with a great effort, in a sorrowful expression of her +drooping mouth, of her whole besmudged and tear- +stained face. She whispered resignedly-- + "Leonard had some. He wanted to get married. +And uncle Antonio; he sat at the door and would +not go away. And Aghostina--she is so poor . . . +and so many, many children--little children. And +Luiz the engineer. He never said a word against +my husband. Also our cousin Maria. She came +and shouted, and my head was so bad, and my heart +was worse. Then cousin Salvator and old Daniel da +Souza, who . . ." + + +314 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + Almayer had listened to her speechless with rage. +He thought: I must give money now to that idiot. +Must! Must get her out of the way now before +Lingard is back. He made two attempts to speak +before he managed to burst out-- + "I don't want to know their blasted names! Tell +me, did all those infernal people leave you anything? +To you! That's what I want to know!" + "I have two hundred and fifteen dollars," said +Joanna, in a frightened tone. + Almayer breathed freely. He spoke with great +friendliness-- + "That will do. It isn't much, but it will do. Now +when the man comes I will be out of the way. You +speak to him. Give him some money; only a little, +mind! And promise more. Then when you get there +you will be guided by your husband, of course. And +don't forget to tell him that Captain Lingard is at the +mouth of the river--the northern entrance. You will +remember. Won't you? The northern branch. Lin- +gard is--death." + Joanna shivered. Almayer went on rapidly-- + "I would have given you money if you had wanted +it. 'Pon my word! Tell your husband I've sent +you to him. And tell him not to lose any time. And +also say to him from me that we shall meet--some day. +That I could not die happy unless I met him once more. +Only once. I love him, you know. I prove it. Tre- +mendous risk to me--this business is!" + Joanna snatched his hand and before he knew what +she would be at, pressed it to her lips. + "Mrs. Willems! Don't. What are you . . ." +cried the abashed Almayer, tearing his hand away. + "Oh, you are good!" she cried, with sudden exalta- +tion, "You are noble . . . I shall pray every + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 315 + +day . . . to all the saints . . . I +shall . . ." + "Never mind . . . never mind!" stammered +out Almayer, confusedly, without knowing very well +what he was saying. "Only look out for Lingard. +. . . I am happy to be able . . . in your sad +situation . . . believe me. . . . " + They stood with the table between them, Joanna +looking down, and her face, in the half-light above +the lamp, appeared like a soiled carving of old ivory-- +a carving, with accentuated anxious hollows, of old, +very old ivory. Almayer looked at her, mistrustful, +hopeful. He was saying to himself: How frail she +is! I could upset her by blowing at her. She seems +to have got some idea of what must be done, but will +she have the strength to carry it through? I must +trust to luck now! + Somewhere far in the back courtyard Ali's voice +rang suddenly in angry remonstrance-- + "Why did you shut the gate, O father of all mis- +chief? You a watchman! You are only a wild man. +Did I not tell you I was coming back? You . . ." + "I am off, Mrs. Willems," exclaimed Almayer. +"That man is here--with my servant. Be calm. Try +to . . ." + He heard the footsteps of the two men in the pas- +age, and without finishing his sentence ran rapidly +down the steps towards the riverside. + + + + CHAPTER TWO + + FOR the next half-hour Almayer, who wanted to give +Joanna plenty of time, stumbled amongst the lumber +in distant parts of his enclosure, sneaked along the +fences; or held his breath, flattened against grass +walls behind various outhouses: all this to escape Ali's +inconveniently zealous search for his master. He +heard him talk with the head watchman--sometimes +quite close to him in the darkness--then moving off, +coming back, wondering, and, as the time passed, +growing uneasy. + "He did not fall into the river?--say, thou blind +watcher!" Ali was growling in a bullying tone, to the +other man. "He told me to fetch Mahmat, and when +I came back swiftly I found him not in the house. +There is that Sirani woman there, so that Mahmat +cannot steal anything, but it is in my mind, the night +will be half gone before I rest." + He shouted-- + "Master! O master! O mast . . ." + "What are you making that noise for?" said Almayer, +with severity, stepping out close to them. + The two Malays leaped away from each other in +their surprise. + "You may go. I don't want you any more to- +night, Ali," went on Almayer. "Is Mahmat there?" + "Unless the ill-behaved savage got tired of waiting. +Those men know not politeness. They should not +be spoken to by white men," said Ali, resentfully. + Almayer went towards the house, leaving his ser- + +316 + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 317 + +vants to wonder where he had sprung from so unex- +pectedly. The watchman hinted obscurely at powers +of invisibility possessed by the master, who often at +night . . . Ali interrupted him with great scorn. +Not every white man has the power. Now, the Rajah +Laut could make himself invisible. Also, he could +be in two places at once, as everybody knew; except +he--the useless watchman--who knew no more about +white men than a wild pig! Ya-wa! + And Ali strolled towards his hut, yawning loudly. + As Almayer ascended the steps he heard the noise +of a door flung to, and when he entered the verandah +he saw only Mahmat there, close to the doorway +of the passage. Mahmat seemed to be caught in +the very act of slinking away, and Almayer noticed +that with satisfaction. Seeing the white man, the +Malay gave up his attempt and leaned against the +wall. He was a short, thick, broad-shouldered man +with very dark skin and a wide, stained, bright-red +mouth that uncovered, when he spoke, a close row of +black and glistening teeth. His eyes were big, promi- +nent, dreamy and restless. He said sulkily, looking +all over the place from under his eyebrows-- + "White Tuan, you are great and strong--and I +a poor man. Tell me what is your will, and let me +go in the name of God. It is late." + Almayer examined the man thoughtfully. How +could he find out whether . . . He had it! Lately +he had employed that man and his two brothers as +extra boatmen to carry stores, provisions, and new +axes to a camp of rattan cutters some distance up the +river. A three days' expedition. He would test him +now in that way. He said negligently-- + "I want you to start at once for the camp, with +surat for the Kavitan. One dollar a day." + + + +318 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + The man appeared plunged in dull hesitation, but +Almayer, who knew his Malays, felt pretty sure from +his aspect that nothing would induce the fellow to go. +He urged-- + "It is important--and if you are swift I shall give +two dollars for the last day." + "No, Tuan. We do not go," said the man, in a +hoarse whisper. + "Why?" + "We start on another journey." + "Where?" + "To a place we know of," said Mahmat, a little +louder, in a stubborn manner, and looking at the +floor. + Almayer experienced a feeling of immense joy. He +said, with affected annoyance-- + "You men live in my house and it is as if it were +your own. I may want my house soon." + Mahmat looked up. + "We are men of the sea and care not for a roof +when we have a canoe that will hold three, and a +paddle apiece. The sea is our house. Peace be with +you, Tuan." + He turned and went away rapidly, and Almayer +heard him directly afterwards in the courtyard calling +to the watchman to open the gate. Mahmat passed +through the gate in silence, but before the bar had +been put up behind him he had made up his mind +that if the white man ever wanted to eject him from +his hut, he would burn it and also as many of the +white man's other buildings as he could safely get at. +And he began to call his brothers before he was +inside the dilapidated dwelling. + "All's well!" muttered Almayer to himself, taking +some loose Java tobacco from a drawer in the table. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 319 + +"Now if anything comes out I am clear. I asked +the man to go up the river. I urged him. He will +say so himself. Good." + He began to charge the china bowl of his pipe, a +pipe with a long cherry stem and a curved mouth- +piece, pressing the tobacco down with his thumb and +thinking: No. I sha'n't see her again. Don't want +to. I will give her a good start, then go in chase-- +and send an express boat after father. Yes! that's it. + He approached the door of the office and said, hold- +ing his pipe away from his lips-- + "Good luck to you, Mrs. Willems. Don't lose +any time. You may get along by the bushes; the +fence there is out of repair. Don't lose time. Don't +forget that it is a matter of . . . life and death. +And don't forget that I know nothing. I trust you." + He heard inside a noise as of a chest-lid falling +down. She made a few steps. Then a sigh, pro- +found and long, and some faint words which he did +not catch. He moved away from the door on tiptoe, +kicked off his slippers in a corner of the verandah, +then entered the passage puffing at his pipe; entered +cautiously in a gentle creaking of planks and turned +into a curtained entrance to the left. There was a +big room. On the floor a small binnacle lamp--that +had found its way to the house years ago from the +lumber-room of the <i>Flash</i>--did duty for a night- +light. It glimmered very small and dull in the great +darkness. Almayer walked to it, and picking it up +revived the flame by pulling the wick with his fingers, +which he shook directly after with a grimace of pain. +Sleeping shapes, covered--head and all--with white +sheets, lay about on the mats on the floor. In the +middle of the room a small cot, under a square white +mosquito net, stood--the only piece of furniture be- + + +320 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +tween the four walls--looking like an altar of trans- +parent marble in a gloomy temple. A woman, half- +lying on the floor with her head dropped on her arms, +which were crossed on the foot of the cot, woke up as +Almayer strode over her outstretched legs. She sat +up without a word, leaning forward, and, clasping her +knees, stared down with sad eyes, full of sleep. + Almayer, the smoky light in one hand, his pipe in +the other, stood before the curtained cot looking at +his daughter--at his little Nina--at that part of him- +self, at that small and unconscious particle of humanity +that seemed to him to contain all his soul. And it +was as if he had been bathed in a bright and warm +wave of tenderness, in a tenderness greater than the +world, more precious than life; the only thing real, +living, sweet, tangible, beautiful and safe amongst the +elusive, the distorted and menacing shadows of exist- +ence. On his face, lit up indistinctly by the short +yellow flame of the lamp, came a look of rapt atten- +tion while he looked into her future. And he could +see things there! Things charming and splendid +passing before him in a magic unrolling of resplendent +pictures; pictures of events brilliant, happy, inexpres- +sibly glorious, that would make up her life. He would +do it! He would do it. He would! He would-- +for that child! And as he stood in the still night, +lost in his enchanting and gorgeous dreams, while the +ascending, thin thread of tobacco smoke spread into a +faint bluish cloud above his head, he appeared strangely +impressive and ecstatic: like a devout and mystic +worshipper, adoring, transported and mute; burning +incense before a shrine, a diaphanous shrine of a child- +idol with closed eyes; before a pure and vaporous +shrine of a small god--fragile, powerless, unconscious +and sleeping. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 321 + + When Ali, roused by loud and repeated shouting of +his name, stumbled outside the door of his hut, he saw +a narrow streak of trembling gold above the forests +and a pale sky with faded stars overhead: signs of the +coming day. His master stood before the door waving +a piece of paper in his hand and shouting excitedly-- +"Quick, Ali! Quick!" When he saw his servant +he rushed forward, and pressing the paper on him +objurgated him, in tones which induced Ali to think +that something awful had happened, to hurry up and +get the whale-boat ready to go immediately--at once, +at once--after Captain Lingard. Ali remonstrated, +agitated also, having caught the infection of distracted +haste. + "If must go quick, better canoe. Whale-boat no +can catch, same as small canoe." + "No, no! Whale-boat! whale-boat! You dolt! you +wretch!" howled Almayer, with all the appearance of +having gone mad. "Call the men! Get along with it. +Fly!" + And Ali rushed about the courtyard kicking the +doors of huts open to put his head in and yell fright- +fully inside; and as he dashed from hovel to hovel, +men shivering and sleepy were coming out, looking +after him stupidly, while they scratched their ribs +with bewildered apathy. It was hard work to put +them in motion. They wanted time to stretch them- +selves and to shiver a little. Some wanted food. +One said he was sick. Nobody knew where the rudder +was. Ali darted here and there, ordering, abusing, +pushing one, then another, and stopping in his exertions +at times to wring his hands hastily and groan, because +the whale-boat was much slower than the worst canoe +and his master would not listen to his protestations. + Almayer saw the boat go off at last, pulled anyhow + + +322 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +by men that were cold, hungry, and sulky; and he +remained on the jetty watching it down the reach. +It was broad day then, and the sky was perfectly +cloudless. Almayer went up to the house for a mo- +ment. His household was all astir and wondering +at the strange disappearance of the Sirani woman, +who had taken her child and had left her luggage. +Almayer spoke to no one, got his revolver, and went +down to the river again. He jumped into a small +canoe and paddled himself towards the schooner. He +worked very leisurely, but as soon as he was nearly +alongside he began to hail the silent craft with the +tone and appearance of a man in a tremendous hurry. + "Schooner ahoy! schooner ahoy!" he shouted. + A row of blank faces popped up above the bulwark. +After a while a man with a woolly head of hair said-- + "Sir!" + "The mate! the mate! Call him, steward!" said +Almayer, excitedly, making a frantic grab at a rope +thrown down to him by somebody. + In less than a minute the mate put his head over. +He asked, surprised-- + "What can I do for you, Mr. Almayer?" + "Let me have the gig at once, Mr. Swan--at once. +I ask in Captain Lingard's name. I must have it. +Matter of life and death." + The mate was impressed by Almayer's agitation + "You shall have it, sir. . . . Man the gig there! +Bear a hand, serang! . . . It's hanging astern, +Mr. Almayer," he said, looking down again. "Get +into it, sir. The men are coming down by the painter." + By the time Almayer had clambered over into the +stern sheets, four calashes were in the boat and the +oars were being passed over the taffrail. The mate +was looking on. Suddenly he said-- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 323 + + "Is it dangerous work? Do you want any help? +I would come . . ." + "Yes, yes!" cried Almayer. "Come along. Don't +lose a moment. Go and get your revolver. Hurry +up! hurry up!" + Yet, notwithstanding his feverish anxiety to be off, +he lolled back very quiet and unconcerned till the mate +got in and, passing over the thwarts, sat down by his +side. Then he seemed to wake up, and called out-- + "Let go--let go the painter!" + "Let go the painter--the painter!" yelled the bow- +man, jerking at it. + People on board also shouted "Let go!" to one +another, till it occurred at last to somebody to cast off +the rope; and the boat drifted rapidly away from the +schooner in the sudden silencing of all voices. + Almayer steered. The mate sat by his side, pushing +the cartridges into the chambers of his revolver. +When the weapon was loaded he asked-- + "What is it? Are you after somebody?" + "Yes," said Almayer, curtly, with his eyes fixed +ahead on the river. "We must catch a dangerous +man." + "I like a bit of a chase myself," declared the mate, +and then, discouraged by Almayer's aspect of severe +thoughtfulness, said nothing more. + Nearly an hour passed. The calashes stretched +forward head first and lay back with their faces to the +sky, alternately, in a regular swing that sent the boat +flying through the water; and the two sitters, very up- +right in the stern sheets, swayed rhythmically a little +at every stroke of the long oars plied vigorously. + The mate observed: "The tide is with us." + "The current always runs down in this river," said +Almayer. + + +324 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Yes--I know," retorted the other; "but it runs +faster on the ebb. Look by the land at the way we +get over the ground! A five-knot current here, I +should say." + "H'm!" growled Almayer. Then suddenly: +"There is a passage between two islands that will +save us four miles. But at low water the two islands, +in the dry season, are like one with only a mud ditch +between them. Still, it's worth trying." + "Ticklish job that, on a falling tide," said the mate, +coolly. "You know best whether there's time to get +through." + "I will try," said Almayer, watching the shore +intently. "Look out now!" + He tugged hard at the starboard yoke-line. + "Lay in your oars!" shouted the mate. + The boat swept round and shot through the narrow +opening of a creek that broadened out before the +craft had time to lose its way. + "Out oars! . . . Just room enough," muttered +the mate. + It was a sombre creek of black water speckled with +the gold of scattered sunlight falling through the boughs +that met overhead in a soaring, restless arc full of +gentle whispers passing, tremulous, aloft amongst the +thick leaves. The creepers climbed up the trunks of +serried trees that leaned over, looking insecure and +undermined by floods which had eaten away the earth +from under their roots. And the pungent, acrid smell +of rotting leaves, of flowers, of blossoms and plants +dying in that poisonous and cruel gloom, where they +pined for sunshine in vain, seemed to lay heavy, to +press upon the shiny and stagnant water in its tortuous +windings amongst the everlasting and invincible shad- +ows. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 325 + + Almayer looked anxious. He steered badly. Several +times the blades of the oars got foul of the bushes on +one side or the other, checking the way of the gig. +During one of those occurrences, while they were +getting clear, one of the calashes said something to +the others in a rapid whisper. They looked down at +the water. So did the mate. + "Hallo!" he exclaimed. "Eh, Mr. Almayer! Look! +The water is running out. See there! We will be +caught." + "Back! back! We must go back!" cried Almayer. + "Perhaps better go on." + "No; back! back!" + He pulled at the steering line, and ran the nose of +the boat into the bank. Time was lost again in getting +clear. + "Give way, men! give way!" urged the mate, +anxiously. + The men pulled with set lips and dilated nostrils, +breathing hard. + "Too late," said the mate, suddenly. "The oars +touch the bottom already. We are done." + The boat stuck. The men laid in the oars, and +sat, panting, with crossed arms. + "Yes, we are caught," said Almayer, composedly. +"That is unlucky!" + The water was falling round the boat. The mate +watched the patches of mud coming to the surface. +Then in a moment he laughed, and pointing his finger +at the creek-- + "Look!" he said; "the blamed river is running away +from us. Here's the last drop of water clearing out +round that bend." + Almayer lifted his head. The water was gone, and +he looked only at a curved track of mud--of mud + + +326 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +soft and black, hiding fever, rottenness, and evil under +its level and glazed surface. + "We are in for it till the evening," he said, with +cheerful resignation. "I did my best. Couldn't help +it." + "We must sleep the day away," said the mate. +"There's nothing to eat," he added, gloomily. + Almayer stretched himself in the stern sheets. The +Malays curled down between thwarts. + "Well, I'm jiggered!" said the mate, starting up +after a long pause. "I was in a devil of a hurry to +go and pass the day stuck in the mud. Here's a +holiday for you! Well! well!" + They slept or sat unmoving and patient. As the +sun mounted higher the breeze died out, and perfect +stillness reigned in the empty creek. A troop of +long-nosed monkeys appeared, and crowding on the +outer boughs, contemplated the boat and the motion- +less men in it with grave and sorrowful intensity, +disturbed now and then by irrational outbreaks of +mad gesticulation. A little bird with sapphire breast +balanced a slender twig across a slanting beam of +light, and flashed in it to and fro like a gem dropped +from the sky. His minute round eye stared at the +strange and tranquil creatures in the boat. After a +while he sent out a thin twitter that sounded imper- +tinent and funny in the solemn silence of the great +wilderness; in the great silence full of struggle and +death. + + + + CHAPTER THREE + + ON LINGARD'S departure solitude and silence closed +round Willems; the cruel solitude of one abandoned +by men; the reproachful silence which surrounds an +outcast ejected by his kind, the silence unbroken by +the slightest whisper of hope; an immense and im- +penetrable silence that swallows up without echo the +murmur of regret and the cry of revolt. The bitter +peace of the abandoned clearings entered his heart, in +which nothing could live now but the memory and +hate of his past. Not remorse. In the breast of a +man possessed by the masterful consciousness of his +individuality with its desires and its rights; by the +immovable conviction of his own importance, of an +importance so indisputable and final that it clothes all +his wishes, endeavours, and mistakes with the dignity +of unavoidable fate, there could be no place for such a +feeling as that of remorse. + The days passed. They passed unnoticed, unseen, +in the rapid blaze of glaring sunrises, in the short +glow of tender sunsets, in the crushing oppression +of high noons without a cloud. How many days? +Two--three--or more? He did not know. To +him, since Lingard had gone, the time seemed to +roll on in profound darkness. All was night within +him. All was gone from his sight. He walked +about blindly in the deserted courtyards, amongst the +empty houses that, perched high on their posts, looked +down inimically on him, a white stranger, a man +from other lands; seemed to look hostile and mute + +327 + + +328 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +out of all the memories of native life that lingered +between their decaying walls. His wandering feet +stumbled against the blackened brands of extinct fires, +kicking up a light black dust of cold ashes that flew +in drifting clouds and settled to leeward on the fresh +grass sprouting from the hard ground, between the +shade trees. He moved on, and on; ceaseless, unresting, +in widening circles, in zigzagging paths that led to no +issue; he struggled on wearily with a set, distressed +face behind which, in his tired brain, seethed his +thoughts: restless, sombre, tangled, chilling, horrible +and venomous, like a nestful of snakes. + From afar, the bleared eyes of the old serving woman, +the sombre gaze of Aissa followed the gaunt and totter- +ing figure in its unceasing prowl along the fences, be- +tween the houses, amongst the wild luxuriance of river- +side thickets. Those three human beings abandoned +by all were like shipwrecked people left on an insecure +and slippery ledge by the retiring tide of an angry sea-- +listening to its distant roar, living anguished between +the menace of its return and the hopeless horror of their +solitude--in the midst of a tempest of passion, of re- +gret, of disgust, of despair. The breath of the storm +had cast two of them there, robbed of everything-- +even of resignation. The third, the decrepit witness +of their struggle and their torture, accepted her own +dull conception of facts; of strength and youth gone; +of her useless old age; of her last servitude; of being +thrown away by her chief, by her nearest, to use up the +last and worthless remnant of flickering life between +those two incomprehensible and sombre outcasts: a +shrivelled, an unmoved, a passive companion of their +disaster. + To the river Willems turned his eyes like a captive +that looks fixedly at the door of his cell. If there was + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 329 + +any hope in the world it would come from the river, by +the river. For hours together he would stand in sun- +light while the sea breeze sweeping over the lonely +reach fluttered his ragged garments; the keen salt +breeze that made him shiver now and then under the +flood of intense heat. He looked at the brown and +sparkling solitude of the flowing water, of the water +flowing ceaseless and free in a soft, cool murmur of +ripples at his feet. The world seemed to end there. +The forests of the other bank appeared unattainable, +enigmatical, for ever beyond reach like the stars of +heaven--and as indifferent. Above and below, the +forests on his side of the river came down to the water +in a serried multitude of tall, immense trees towering +in a great spread of twisted boughs above the thick +undergrowth; great, solid trees, looking sombre, severe, +and malevolently stolid, like a giant crowd of pitiless +enemies pressing round silently to witness his slow +agony. He was alone, small, crushed. He thought of +escape--of something to be done. What? A raft! +He imagined himself working at it, feverishly, desper- +ately; cutting down trees, fastening the logs together +and then drifting down with the current, down to the +sea into the straits. There were ships there--ships, +help, white men. Men like himself. Good men who +would rescue him, take him away, take him far away +where there was trade, and houses, and other men that +could understand him exactly, appreciate his capabili- +ties; where there was proper food, and money; where +there were beds, knives, forks, carriages, brass bands, +cool drinks, churches with well-dressed people praying in +them. He would pray also. The superior land of +refined delights where he could sit on a chair, eat his +tiffin off a white tablecloth, nod to fellows--good +fellows; he would be popular; always was--where + + +330 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +he could be virtuous, correct, do business, draw a +salary, smoke cigars, buy things in shops--have boots +. . . be happy, free, become rich. O God! What +was wanted? Cut down a few trees. No! One would +do. They used to make canoes by burning out a tree +trunk, he had heard. Yes! One would do. One tree +to cut down . . . He rushed forward, and sud- +denly stood still as if rooted in the ground. He had a +pocket-knife. + And he would throw himself down on the ground +by the riverside. He was tired, exhausted; as if that +raft had been made, the voyage accomplished, the +fortune attained. A glaze came over his staring eyes, +over his eyes that gazed hopelessly at the rising river +where big logs and uprooted trees drifted in the shine +of mid-stream: a long procession of black and ragged +specks. He could swim out and drift away on one of +these trees. Anything to escape! Anything! Any +risk! He could fasten himself up between the dead +branches. He was torn by desire, by fear; his heart +was wrung by the faltering of his courage. He turned +over, face downwards, his head on his arms. He had +a terrible vision of shadowless horizons where the blue +sky and the blue sea met; or a circular and blazing +emptiness where a dead tree and a dead man drifted +together, endlessly, up and down, upon the brilliant +undulations of the straits. No ships there. Only +death. And the river led to it. + He sat up with a profound groan. + Yes, death. Why should he die? No! Better +solitude, better hopeless waiting, alone. Alone. No! +he was not alone, he saw death looking at him from +everywhere; from the bushes, from the clouds--he +heard her speaking to him in the murmur of the river, +filling the space, touching his heart, his brain with a + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 331 + +cold hand. He could see and think of nothing else. +He saw it--the sure death--everywhere. He saw it +so close that he was always on the point of throwing +out his arms to keep it off. It poisoned all he saw, all +he did; the miserable food he ate, the muddy water +he drank; it gave a frightful aspect to sunrises and +sunsets, to the brightness of hot noon, to the cooling +shadows of the evenings. He saw the horrible form +among the big trees, in the network of creepers in +the fantastic outlines of leaves, of the great indented +leaves that seemed to be so many enormous hands +with big broad palms, with stiff fingers outspread to +lay hold of him; hands gently stirring, or hands ar- +rested in a frightful immobility, with a stillness atten- +tive and watching for the opportunity to take him, +to enlace him, to strangle him, to hold him till he died; +hands that would hold him dead, that would never +let go, that would cling to his body for ever till it +perished--disappeared in their frantic and tenacious +grasp. + And yet the world was full of life. All the things, +all the men he knew, existed, moved, breathed; and +he saw them in a long perspective, far off, diminished, +distinct, desirable, unattainable, precious . . . lost +for ever. Round him, ceaselessly, there went on with- +out a sound the mad turmoil of tropical life. After he +had died all this would remain! He wanted to clasp, +to embrace solid things; he had an immense craving +for sensations; for touching, pressing, seeing, handling, +holding on, to all these things. All this would re- +main--remain for years, for ages, for ever. After +he had miserably died there, all this would remain, +would live, would exist in joyous sunlight, would +breathe in the coolness of serene nights. What for, +then? He would be dead. He would be stretched + + +332 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +upon the warm moisture of the ground, feeling nothing, +seeing nothing, knowing nothing; he would lie stiff, +passive, rotting slowly; while over him, under him, +through him--unopposed, busy, hurried--the endless +and minute throngs of insects, little shining monsters +of repulsive shapes, with horns, with claws, with pin- +cers, would swarm in streams, in rushes, in eager strug- +gle for his body; would swarm countless, persistent, +ferocious and greedy--till there would remain nothing +but the white gleam of bleaching bones in the long +grass; in the long grass that would shoot its feathery +heads between the bare and polished ribs. There would +be that only left of him; nobody would miss him; no one +would remember him. + Nonsense! It could not be. There were ways +out of this. Somebody would turn up. Some human +beings would come. He would speak, entreat--use +force to extort help from them. He felt strong; he was +very strong. He would . . . The discouragement, +the conviction of the futility of his hopes would return +in an acute sensation of pain in his heart. He would +begin again his aimless wanderings. He tramped till +he was ready to drop, without being able to calm by +bodily fatigue the trouble of his soul. There was no +rest, no peace within the cleared grounds of his prison. +There was no relief but in the black release of sleep, +of sleep without memory and without dreams; in +the sleep coming brutal and heavy, like the lead that +kills. To forget in annihilating sleep; to tumble head- +long, as if stunned, out of daylight into the night of +oblivion, was for him the only, the rare respite from this +existence which he lacked the courage to endure--or to +end. + He lived, he struggled with the inarticulate delirium +of his thoughts under the eyes of the silent Aissa. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 333 + +She shared his torment in the poignant wonder, in the +acute longing, in the despairing inability to under- +stand the cause of his anger and of his repulsion; the +hate of his looks; the mystery of his silence; the men- +ace of his rare words--of those words in the speech +of white people that were thrown at her with rage, +with contempt, with the evident desire to hurt her; +to hurt her who had given herself, her life--all she had +to give--to that white man; to hurt her who had wanted +to show him the way to true greatness, who had tried +to help him, in her woman's dream of everlasting, en- +during, unchangeable affection. From the short con- +tact with the whites in the crashing collapse of her old +life, there remained with her the imposing idea of ir- +resistible power and of ruthless strength. She had +found a man of their race--and with all their qualities. +All whites are alike. But this man's heart was full of +anger against his own people, full of anger existing there +by the side of his desire of her. And to her it had been +an intoxication of hope for great things born in the +proud and tender consciousness of her influence. She +had heard the passing whisper of wonder and fear in the +presence of his hesitation, of his resistance, of his com- +promises; and yet with a woman's belief in the durable +steadfastness of hearts, in the irresistible charm of her +own personality, she had pushed him forward, trusting +the future, blindly, hopefully; sure to attain by his side +the ardent desire of her life, if she could only push him +far beyond the possibility of retreat. She did not know, +and could not conceive, anything of his--so exalted-- +ideals. She thought the man a warrior and a chief, +ready for battle, violence, and treachery to his own +people--for her. What more natural? Was he not a +great, strong man? Those two, surrounded each by +the impenetrable wall of their aspirations, were hope- + + +334 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +lessly alone, out of sight, out of earshot of each other; +each the centre of dissimilar and distant horizons; +standing each on a different earth, under a different +sky. She remembered his words, his eyes, his trembling +lips, his outstretched hands; she remembered the great, +the immeasurable sweetness of her surrender, that +beginning of her power which was to last until death. +He remembered the quaysides and the warehouses; +the excitement of a life in a whirl of silver coins; the +glorious uncertainty of a money hunt; his numerous +successes, the lost possibilities of wealth and consequent +glory. She, a woman, was the victim of her heart, +of her woman's belief that there is nothing in the world +but love--the everlasting thing. He was the victim +of his strange principles, of his continence, of his blind +belief in himself, of his solemn veneration for the voice +of his boundless ignorance. + In a moment of his idleness, of suspense, of dis- +couragement, she had come--that creature--and by +the touch of her hand had destroyed his future, his +dignity of a clever and civilized man; had awakened +in his breast the infamous thing which had driven him +to what he had done, and to end miserably in the +wilderness and be forgotten, or else remembered with +hate or contempt. He dared not look at her, because +now whenever he looked at her his thought seemed to +touch crime, like an outstretched hand. She could +only look at him--and at nothing else. What else +was there? She followed him with a timorous gaze, +with a gaze for ever expecting, patient, and entreating. +And in her eyes there was the wonder and desolation +of an animal that knows only suffering, of the incom- +plete soul that knows pain but knows not hope; that +can find no refuge from the facts of life in the illusory +conviction of its dignity, of an exalted destiny beyond; + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 335 + +in the heavenly consolation of a belief in the momen- +tous origin of its hate. + For the first three days after Lingard went away +he would not even speak to her. She preferred his +silence to the sound of hated and incomprehensible +words he had been lately addressing to her with a +wild violence of manner, passing at once into complete +apathy. And during these three days he hardly ever +left the river, as if on that muddy bank he had felt +himself nearer to his freedom. He would stay late; +he would stay till sunset; he would look at the glow +of gold passing away amongst sombre clouds in a +bright red flush, like a splash of warm blood. It +seemed to him ominous and ghastly with a foreboding +of violent death that beckoned him from everywhere +--even from the sky. + One evening he remained by the riverside long +after sunset, regardless of the night mist that had +closed round him, had wrapped him up and clung to +him like a wet winding-sheet. A slight shiver recalled +him to his senses, and he walked up the courtyard +towards his house. Aissa rose from before the fire, that +glimmered red through its own smoke, which hung +thickening under the boughs of the big tree. She ap- +proached him from the side as he neared the plankway +of the house. He saw her stop to let him begin his +ascent. In the darkness her figure was like the shadow +of a woman with clasped hands put out beseechingly. +He stopped--could not help glancing at her. In all +the sombre gracefulness of the straight figure, her +limbs, features--all was indistinct and vague but the +gleam of her eyes in the faint starlight. He turned +his head away and moved on. He could feel her foot- +steps behind him on the bending planks, but he walked +up without turning his head. He knew what she + + +336 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +wanted. She wanted to come in there. He shuddered +at the thought of what might happen in the impene- +trable darkness of that house if they were to find them- +selves alone--even for a moment. He stopped in the +doorway, and heard her say-- + "Let me come in. Why this anger? Why this +silence? . . . Let me watch . . by your side. +. . . Have I not watched faithfully? Did harm +ever come to you when you closed your eyes while I +was by? . . . I have waited . . . I have +waited for your smile, for your words . . . I can +wait no more. . . . Look at me . . . speak to +me. Is there a bad spirit in you? A bad spirit that +has eaten up your courage and your love? Let me +touch you. Forget all . . . All. Forget the +wicked hearts, the angry faces . . . and remember +only the day I came to you . . . to you! O my +heart! O my life!" + The pleading sadness of her appeal filled the space +with the tremor of her low tones, that carried tenderness +and tears into the great peace of the sleeping world. +All around them the forests, the clearings, the river, +covered by the silent veil of night, seemed to wake up +and listen to her words in attentive stillness. After +the sound of her voice had died out in a stifled sigh they +appeared to listen yet; and nothing stirred among the +shapeless shadows but the innumerable fireflies that +twinkled in changing clusters, in gliding pairs, in wan- +dering and solitary points--like the glimmering drift +of scattered star-dust. + Willems turned round slowly, reluctantly, as if com- +pelled by main force. Her face was hidden in her +hands, and he looked above her bent head, into the +sombre brilliance of the night. It was one of those +nights that give the impression of extreme vastness, + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 337 + +when the sky seems higher, when the passing puffs of +tepid breeze seem to bring with them faint whispers +from beyond the stars. The air was full of sweet +scent, of the scent charming, penetrating. and violent +like the impulse of love. He looked into that great +dark place odorous with the breath of life, with the +mystery of existence, renewed, fecund, indestructible; +and he felt afraid of his solitude, of the solitude of his +body, of the loneliness of his soul in the presence of +this unconscious and ardent struggle, of this lofty +indifference, of this merciless and mysterious purpose, +perpetuating strife and death through the march of +ages. For the second time in his life he felt, in a +sudden sense of his significance, the need to send a +cry for help into the wilderness, and for the second +time he realized the hopelessness of its unconcern. +He could shout for help on every side--and nobody +would answer. He could stretch out his hands, he +could call for aid, for support, for sympathy, for relief +--and nobody would come. Nobody. There was no +one there--but that woman. + His heart was moved, softened with pity at his own +abandonment. His anger against her, against her +who was the cause of all his misfortunes, vanished +before his extreme need for some kind of consolation. +Perhaps--if he must resign himself to his fate--she +might help him to forget. To forget! For a moment, +in an access of despair so profound that it seemed +like the beginning of peace, he planned the deliberate +descent from his pedestal, the throwing away of his +superiority, of all his hopes, of old ambitions, of the +ungrateful civilization. For a moment, forgetfulness +in her arms seemed possible; and lured by that pos- +sibility the semblance of renewed desire possessed +his breast in a burst of reckless contempt for every- + + +338 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +thing outside himself--in a savage disdain of Earth +and of Heaven. He said to himself that he would +not repent. The punishment for his only sin was too +heavy. There was no mercy under Heaven. He did +not want any. He thought, desperately, that if he +could find with her again the madness of the past, +the strange delirium that had changed him, that had +worked his undoing, he would be ready to pay for it +with an eternity of perdition. He was intoxicated +by the subtle perfumes of the night; he was carried +away by the suggestive stir of the warm breeze; he +was possessed by the exaltation of the solitude, of +the silence, of his memories, in the presence of that +figure offering herself in a submissive and pa- +tient devotion; coming to him in the name of the +past, in the name of those days when he could see +nothing, think of nothing, desire nothing--but her +embrace. + He took her suddenly in his arms, and she clasped +her hands round his neck with a low cry of joy and +surprise. He took her in his arms and waited for the +transport, for the madness, for the sensations remem- +bered and lost; and while she sobbed gently on his +breast he held her and felt cold, sick, tired, exasperated +with his failure--and ended by cursing himself. She +clung to him trembling with the intensity of her hap- +piness and her love. He heard her whispering--her +face hidden on his shoulder--of past sorrow, of coming +joy that would last for ever; of her unshaken belief +in his love. She had always believed. Always! Even +while his face was turned away from her in the dark +days while his mind was wandering in his own land, +amongst his own people. But it would never wander +away from her any more, now it had come back. He +would forget the cold faces and the hard hearts of the + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 339 + +cruel people. What was there to remember? Nothing? +Was it not so? . . . + He listened hopelessly to the faint murmur. He +stood still and rigid, pressing her mechanically to his +breast while he thought that there was nothing for +him in the world. He was robbed of everything; +robbed of his passion, of his liberty, of forgetfulness, +of consolation. She, wild with delight, whispered on +rapidly, of love, of light, of peace, of long years. . . . +He looked drearily above her head down into the +deeper gloom of the courtyard. And, all at once, it +seemed to him that he was peering into a sombre +hollow, into a deep black hole full of decay and of +whitened bones; into an immense and inevitable +grave full of corruption where sooner or later he must, +unavoidably, fall. + In the morning he came out early, and stood for a +time in the doorway, listening to the light breathing +behind him--in the house. She slept. He had not +closed his eyes through all that night. He stood +swaying--then leaned against the lintel of the door. +He was exhausted, done up; fancied himself hardly +alive. He had a disgusted horror of himself that, as +he looked at the level sea of mist at his feet, faded +quickly into dull indifference. It was like a sudden +and final decrepitude of his senses, of his body, of his +thoughts. Standing on the high platform, he looked +over the expanse of low night fog above which, here +and there, stood out the feathery heads of tall bamboo +clumps and the round tops of single trees, resembling +small islets emerging black and solid from a ghostly +and impalpable sea. Upon the faintly luminous back- +ground of the eastern sky, the sombre line of the great +forests bounded that smooth sea of white vapours with +an appearance of a fantastic and unattainable shore. + + +340 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +He looked without seeing anything--thinking of him- +self. Before his eyes the light of the rising sun burst +above the forest with the suddenness of an explosion. +He saw nothing. Then, after a time, he murmured with +conviction--speaking half aloud to himself in the shock +of the penetrating thought: + "I am a lost man." + He shook his hand above his head in a gesture care- +less and tragic, then walked down into the mist that +closed above him in shining undulations under the +first breath of the morning breeze. + + + + CHAPTER FOUR + + WILLEMS moved languidly towards the river, then +retraced his steps to the tree and let himself fall on +the seat under its shade. On the other side of the +immense trunk he could hear the old woman moving +about, sighing loudly, muttering to herself, snapping +dry sticks, blowing up the fire. After a while a whiff +of smoke drifted round to where he sat. It made him +feel hungry, and that feeling was like a new indignity +added to an intolerable load of humiliations. He felt +inclined to cry. He felt very weak. He held up his +arm before his eyes and watched for a little while the +trembling of the lean limb. Skin and bone, by God! +How thin he was! . . . He had suffered from fever +a good deal, and now he thought with tearful dismay +that Lingard, although he had sent him food--and +what food, great Lord: a little rice and dried fish; quite +unfit for a white man--had not sent him any medicine. +Did the old savage think that he was like the wild beasts +that are never ill? He wanted quinine. + He leaned the back of his head against the tree and +closed his eyes. He thought feebly that if he could +get hold of Lingard he would like to flay him alive; +but it was only a blurred, a short and a passing thought. +His imagination, exhausted by the repeated delineations +of his own fate, had not enough strength left to grip +the idea of revenge. He was not indignant and rebel- +lious. He was cowed. He was cowed by the immense +cataclysm of his disaster. Like most men, he had car- +ried solemnly within his breast the whole universe, and + +341 + + +342 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +the approaching end of all things in the destruction of +his own personality filled him with paralyzing awe. +Everything was toppling over. He blinked his eyes +quickly, and it seemed to him that the very sunshine of +the morning disclosed in its brightness a suggestion of +some hidden and sinister meaning. In his unreason- +ing fear he tried to hide within himself. He drew his +feet up, his head sank between his shoulders, his arms +hugged his sides. Under the high and enormous tree +soaring superbly out of the mist in a vigorous spread of +lofty boughs, with a restless and eager flutter of its in- +numerable leaves in the clear sunshine, he remained +motionless, huddled up on his seat: terrified and still. + Willems' gaze roamed over the ground, and then +he watched with idiotic fixity half a dozen black ants +entering courageously a tuft of long grass which, to +them, must have appeared a dark and a dangerous +jungle. Suddenly he thought: There must be some- +thing dead in there. Some dead insect. Death every- +where! He closed his eyes again in an access of trem- +bling pain. Death everywhere--wherever one looks. +He did not want to see the ants. He did not want to +see anybody or anything. He sat in the darkness of his +own making, reflecting bitterly that there was no peace +for him. He heard voices now. . . . Illusion! +Misery! Torment! Who would come? Who would +speak to him? What business had he to hear voices? +. . . yet he heard them faintly, from the river. +Faintly, as if shouted far off over there, came the words +"We come back soon." . . . Delirium and mock- +ery! Who would come back? Nobody ever comes +back! Fever comes back. He had it on him this +morning. That was it. . . . He heard unex- +pectedly the old woman muttering something near by. +She had come round to his side of the tree. He opened + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 343 + +his eyes and saw her bent back before him. She stood, +with her hand shading her eyes, looking towards the +landing-place. Then she glided away. She had seen +--and now she was going back to her cooking; a woman +incurious; expecting nothing; without fear and without +hope. + She had gone back behind the tree, and now Willems +could see a human figure on the path to the landing- +place. It appeared to him to be a woman, in a red +gown, holding some heavy bundle in her arms; it was an +apparition unexpected, familiar and odd. He cursed +through his teeth . . . It had wanted only this! +See things like that in broad daylight! He was very +bad--very bad. . . . He was horribly scared at +this awful symptom of the desperate state of his health. + This scare lasted for the space of a flash of lightning, +and in the next moment it was revealed to him that +the woman was real; that she was coming towards +him; that she was his wife! He put his feet down +to the ground quickly, but made no other movement. +His eyes opened wide. He was so amazed that for a +time he absolutely forgot his own existence. The only +idea in his head was: Why on earth did she come here? + Joanna was coming up the courtyard with eager, +hurried steps. She carried in her arms the child, +wrapped up in one of Almayer's white blankets that +she had snatched off the bed at the last moment, before +leaving the house. She seemed to be dazed by the +sun in her eyes; bewildered by her strange surround- +ings. She moved on, looking quickly right and left +in impatient expectation of seeing her husband at any +moment. Then, approaching the tree, she perceived +suddenly a kind of a dried-up, yellow corpse, sitting +very stiff on a bench in the shade and looking at her +with big eyes that were alive. That was her husband. + + +344 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + She stopped dead short. They stared at one another +in profound stillness, with astounded eyes, with eyes +maddened by the memories of things far off that seemed +lost in the lapse of time. Their looks crossed, passed +each other, and appeared to dart at them through fan- +tastic distances, to come straight from the incred- +ible. + Looking at him steadily she came nearer, and de- +posited the blanket with the child in it on the bench. +Little Louis, after howling with terror in the darkness +of the river most of the night, now slept soundly and did +not wake. Willems' eyes followed his wife, his head +turning slowly after her. He accepted her presence +there with a tired acquiescence in its fabulous improba- +bility. Anything might happen. What did she come +for? She was part of the general scheme of his misfor- +tune. He half expected that she would rush at him, +pull his hair, and scratch his face. Why not? Any- +thing might happen! In an exaggerated sense of his +great bodily weakness he felt somewhat apprehensive +of possible assault. At any rate, she would scream at +him. He knew her of old. She could screech. He had +thought that he was rid of her for ever. She came now +probably to see the end. . . . + Suddenly she turned, and embracing him slid gently +to the ground. This startled him. With her fore- +head on his knees she sobbed noiselessly. He looked +down dismally at the top of her head. What was she +up to? He had not the strength to move--to get +away. He heard her whispering something, and bent +over to listen. He caught the word "Forgive." + That was what she came for! All that way. Women +are queer. Forgive. Not he! . . . All at once +this thought darted through his brain: How did she +come? In a boat. Boat! boat! + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 345 + + He shouted "Boat!" and jumped up, knocking her +over. Before she had time to pick herself up he +pounced upon her and was dragging her up by the +shoulders. No sooner had she regained her feet than +she clasped him tightly round the neck, covering his +face, his eyes, his mouth, his nose with desperate +kisses. He dodged his head about, shaking her arms, +trying to keep her off, to speak, to ask her. . . . She +came in a boat, boat, boat! . . . They struggled +and swung round, tramping in a semicircle. He blurted +out, "Leave off. Listen," while he tore at her hands. +This meeting of lawful love and sincere joy resembled +fight. Louis Willems slept peacefully under his blan- +ket. + At last Willems managed to free himself, and held +her off, pressing her arms down. He looked at her. +He had half a suspicion that he was dreaming. Her +lips trembled; her eyes wandered unsteadily, always +coming back to his face. He saw her the same as +ever, in his presence. She appeared startled, tremulous, +ready to cry. She did not inspire him with confidence. +He shouted-- + "How did you come?" + She answered in hurried words, looking at him +intently-- + "In a big canoe with three men. I know every- +thing. Lingard's away. I come to save you. I +know. . . . Almayer told me." + "Canoe!--Almayer--Lies. Told you--You!" stam- +mered Willems in a distracted manner. "Why you?-- +Told what?" + Words failed him. He stared at his wife, thinking +with fear that she--stupid woman--had been made a +tool in some plan of treachery . . . in some deadly +plot. + + +346 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + She began to cry-- + "Don't look at me like that, Peter. What have +I done? I come to beg--to beg--forgiveness. . . . +Save--Lingard--danger." + He trembled with impatience, with hope, with fear. +She looked at him and sobbed out in a fresh outburst +of grief-- + "Oh! Peter. What's the matter?--Are you ill? +. . . Oh! you look so ill . . ." + He shook her violently into a terrified and wonder- +ing silence. + "How dare you!--I am well--perfectly well. . . . +Where's that boat? Will you tell me where that boat +is--at last? The boat, I say . . . You! . . ." + "You hurt me," she moaned. + He let her go, and, mastering her terror, she stood +quivering and looking at him with strange intensity. +Then she made a movement forward, but he lifted his +finger, and she restrained herself with a long sigh. +He calmed down suddenly and surveyed her with cold +criticism, with the same appearance as when, in the +old days, he used to find fault with the household +expenses. She found a kind of fearful delight in this +abrupt return into the past, into her old subjec- +tion. + He stood outwardly collected now, and listened to +her disconnected story. Her words seemed to fall +round him with the distracting clatter of stunning +hail. He caught the meaning here and there, and +straightway would lose himself in a tremendous effort +to shape out some intelligible theory of events. There +was a boat. A boat. A big boat that could take him +to sea if necessary. That much was clear. She +brought it. Why did Almayer lie to her so? Was +it a plan to decoy him into some ambush? Better + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 347 + +that than hopeless solitude. She had money. The +men were ready to go anywhere . . . she said. + He interrupted her-- + "Where are they now?" + "They are coming directly," she answered, tearfully. +"Directly. There are some fishing stakes near here +--they said. They are coming directly." + Again she was talking and sobbing together. She +wanted to be forgiven. Forgiven? What for? Ah! +the scene in Macassar. As if he had time to think +of that! What did he care what she had done months +ago? He seemed to struggle in the toils of compli- +cated dreams where everything was impossible, yet a +matter of course, where the past took the aspects of +the future and the present lay heavy on his heart-- +seemed to take him by the throat like the hand of an +enemy. And while she begged, entreated, kissed his +hands, wept on his shoulder, adjured him in the name +of God, to forgive, to forget, to speak the word for +which she longed, to look at his boy, to believe in her +sorrow and in her devotion--his eyes, in the fascinated +immobility of shining pupils, looked far away, far +beyond her, beyond the river, beyond this land, through +days, weeks, months; looked into liberty, into the +future, into his triumph . . . into the great pos- +sibility of a startling revenge. + He felt a sudden desire to dance and shout. He +shouted-- + "After all, we shall meet again, Captain Lingard." + "Oh, no! No!" she cried, joining her hands. + He looked at her with surprise. He had forgotten +she was there till the break of her cry in the mo- +notonous tones of her prayer recalled him into that +courtyard from the glorious turmoil of his dreams. +It was very strange to see her there--near him. He + + +348 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +felt almost affectionate towards her. After all, she +came just in time. Then he thought: That other one. +I must get away without a scene. Who knows; she +may be dangerous! . . . And all at once he felt +he hated Aissa with an immense hatred that seemed to +choke him. He said to his wife-- + "Wait a moment." + She, obedient, seemed to gulp down some words +which wanted to come out. He muttered: "Stay here," +and disappeared round the tree. + The water in the iron pan on the cooking fire boiled +furiously, belching out volumes of white steam that +mixed with the thin black thread of smoke. The old +woman appeared to him through this as if in a fog, +squatting on her heels, impassive and weird. + Willems came up near and asked, "Where is she?" + The woman did not even lift her head, but answered +at once, readily, as though she had expected the ques- +tion for a long time. + "While you were asleep under the tree, before the +strange canoe came, she went out of the house. I saw +her look at you and pass on with a great light in her +eyes. A great light. And she went towards the place +where our master Lakamba had his fruit trees. When +we were many here. Many, many. Men with arms +by their side. Many . . . men. And talk . . . +and songs . . . " + She went on like that, raving gently to herself for +a long time after Willems had left her. + Willems went back to his wife. He came up close +to her and found he had nothing to say. Now all his +faculties were concentrated upon his wish to avoid +Aissa. She might stay all the morning in that grove. +Why did those rascally boatmen go? He had a physical +repugnance to set eyes on her. And somewhere, at + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 349 + +the very bottom of his heart, there was a fear of her. +Why? What could she do? Nothing on earth could +stop him now. He felt strong, reckless, pitiless, and +superior to everything. He wanted to preserve before +his wife the lofty purity of his character. He thought: +She does not know. Almayer held his tongue about +Aissa. But if she finds out, I am lost. If it hadn't +been for the boy I would . . . free of both of +them. . . . The idea darted through his head. +Not he! Married. . . . Swore solemnly. No +. . . sacred tie. . . . Looking on his wife, he +felt for the first time in his life something approaching +remorse. Remorse, arising from his conception of the +awful nature of an oath before the altar. . . . She +mustn't find out. . . . Oh, for that boat! He +must run in and get his revolver. Couldn't think of +trusting himself unarmed with those Bajow fellows. +Get it now while she is away. Oh, for that boat! . . . +He dared not go to the river and hail. He thought: +She might hear me. . . . I'll go and get . . . +cartridges . . . then will be all ready . . . +nothing else. No. + And while he stood meditating profoundly before +he could make up his mind to run to the house, Joanna +pleaded, holding to his arm--pleaded despairingly, +broken-hearted, hopeless whenever she glanced up at +his face, which to her seemed to wear the aspect of +unforgiving rectitude, of virtuous severity, of merciless +justice. And she pleaded humbly--abashed before +him, before the unmoved appearance of the man she +had wronged in defiance of human and divine laws. +He heard not a word of what she said till she raised her +voice in a final appeal-- + ". . . Don't you see I loved you always? They +told me horrible things about you. . . . My own + + +350 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +mother! They told me--you have been--you have +been unfaithful to me, and I . . ." + "It's a damned lie!" shouted Willems, waking up +for a moment into righteous indignation. + "I know! I know--Be generous.--Think of my +misery since you went away--Oh! I could have torn +my tongue out. . . . I will never believe any- +body--Look at the boy--Be merciful--I could never +rest till I found you. . . . Say--a word--one +word. . ." + "What the devil do you want?" exclaimed Willems, +looking towards the river. "Where's that damned +boat? Why did you let them go away? You stupid!" + "Oh, Peter!--I know that in your heart you have +forgiven me--You are so generous--I want to hear you +say so. . . . Tell me--do you?" + "Yes! yes!" said Willems, impatiently. "I for- +give you. Don't be a fool." + "Don't go away. Don't leave me alone here. Where +is the danger? I am so frightened. . . . Are you +alone here? Sure? . . . Let us go away!" + "That's sense," said Willems, still looking anxiously +towards the river. + She sobbed gently, leaning on his arm. + "Let me go," he said. + He had seen above the steep bank the heads of three +men glide along smoothly. Then, where the shore +shelved down to the landing-place, appeared a big +canoe which came slowly to land. + "Here they are," he went on, briskly. "I must get +my revolver." + He made a few hurried paces towards the house, +but seemed to catch sight of something, turned short +round and came back to his wife. She stared at him, +alarmed by the sudden change in his face. He ap- + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 351 + +peared much discomposed. He stammered a little as +he began to speak. + "Take the child. Walk down to the boat and tell +them to drop it out of sight, quick, behind the bushes. +Do you hear? Quick! I will come to you there +directly. Hurry up!" + "Peter! What is it? I won't leave you. There is +some danger in this horrible place." + "Will you do what I tell you?" said Willems, in an +irritable whisper. + "No! no! no! I won't leave you. I will not lose +you again. Tell me, what is it?" + From beyond the house came a faint voice singing. +Willems shook his wife by the shoulder. + "Do what I tell you! Run at once!" + She gripped his arm and clung to him desperately. +He looked up to heaven as if taking it to witness of +that woman's infernal folly. The song grew louder, +then ceased suddenly, and Aissa appeared in sight, +walking slowly, her hands full of flowers. + She had turned the corner of the house, coming +out into the full sunshine, and the light seemed to +leap upon her in a stream brilliant, tender, and caress- +ing, as if attracted by the radiant happiness of her face. +She had dressed herself for a festive day, for the memor- +able day of his return to her, of his return to an affec- +tion that would last for ever. The rays of the morning +sun were caught by the oval clasp of the embroidered +belt that held the silk sarong round her waist. The +dazzling white stuff of her body jacket was crossed +by a bar of yellow and silver of her scarf, and in the +black hair twisted high on her small head shone the +round balls of gold pins amongst crimson blossoms and +white star-shaped flowers, with which she had crowned +herself to charm his eyes; those eyes that were hence- + + +352 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +forth to see nothing in the world but her own resplen- +dent image. And she moved slowly, bending her face +over the mass of pure white champakas and jasmine +pressed to her breast, in a dreamy intoxication of sweet +scents and of sweeter hopes. + She did not seem to see anything, stopped for a +moment at the foot of the plankway leading to the +house, then, leaving her high-heeled wooden sandals +there, ascended the planks in a light run; straight, +graceful, flexible, and noiseless, as if she had soared up +to the door on invisible wings. Willems pushed his +wife roughly behind the tree, and made up his mind +quickly for a rush to the house, to grab his revolver +and . . . Thoughts, doubts, expedients seemed to +boil in his brain. He had a flashing vision of deliver- +ing a stunning blow, of tying up that flower bedecked +woman in the dark house--a vision of things done +swiftly with enraged haste--to save his prestige, his +superiority--something of immense importance. . . . +He had not made two steps when Joanna bounded +after him, caught the back of his ragged jacket, tore +out a big piece, and instantly hooked herself with +both hands to the collar, nearly dragging him down on +his back. Although taken by surprise, he managed +to keep his feet. From behind she panted into his +ear-- + "That woman! Who's that woman? Ah! that's +what those boatmen were talking about. I heard +them . . . heard them . . . heard . . . in the night. +They spoke about some woman. I dared not under- +stand. I would not ask . . . listen . . . be- +lieve! How could I? Then it's true. No. Say no. +. . . Who's that woman?" + He swayed, tugging forward. She jerked at him +till the button gave way, and then he slipped half out + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 353 + +of his jacket and, turning round, remained strangely +motionless. His heart seemed to beat in his throat. +He choked--tried to speak--could not find any words. +He thought with fury: I will kill both of them. + For a second nothing moved about the courtyard in +the great vivid clearness of the day. Only down by +the landing-place a waringan-tree, all in a blaze of +clustering red berries, seemed alive with the stir of +little birds that filled with the feverish flutter of their +feathers the tangle of overloaded branches. Suddenly +the variegated flock rose spinning in a soft whirr and +dispersed, slashing the sunlit haze with the sharp +outlines of stiffened wings. Mahmat and one of his +brothers appeared coming up from the landing-place, +their lances in their hands, to look for their passengers. + Aissa coming now empty-handed out of the house, +caught sight of the two armed men. In her surprise +she emitted a faint cry, vanished back and in a flash +reappeared in the doorway with Willems' revolver in +her hand. To her the presence of any man there +could only have an ominous meaning. There was +nothing in the outer world but enemies. She and the +man she loved were alone, with nothing round them +but menacing dangers. She did not mind that, for if +death came, no matter from what hand, they would +die together. + Her resolute eyes took in the courtyard in a circular +glance. She noticed that the two strangers had ceased +to advance and now were standing close together +leaning on the polished shafts of their weapons. The +next moment she saw Willems, with his back towards +her, apparently struggling under the tree with some +one. She saw nothing distinctly, and, unhesitating, +flew down the plankway calling out: "I come!" + He heard her cry, and with an unexpected rush + + +354 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +drove his wife backwards to the seat. She fell on it; +he jerked himself altogether out of his jacket, and she +covered her face with the soiled rags. He put his lips +close to her, asking-- + "For the last time, will you take the child and go?" + She groaned behind the unclean ruins of his upper +garment. She mumbled something. He bent lower +to hear. She was saying-- + "I won't. Order that woman away. I can't look +at her!" + "You fool!" + He seemed to spit the words at her, then, making +up his mind, spun round to face Aissa. She was coming +towards them slowly now, with a look of unbounded +amazement on her face. Then she stopped and stared +at him--who stood there, stripped to the waist, bare- +headed and sombre. + Some way off, Mahmat and his brother exchanged +rapid words in calm undertones. . . . This was the +strong daughter of the holy man who had died. The +white man is very tall. There would be three women +and the child to take in the boat, besides that white +man who had the money. . . . The brother went +away back to the boat, and Mahmat remained looking +on. He stood like a sentinel, the leaf-shaped blade +of his lance glinting above his head. + Willems spoke suddenly. + "Give me this," he said, stretching his hand towards +the revolver. + Aissa stepped back. Her lips trembled. She said +very low: "Your people?" + He nodded slightly. She shook her head thought- +fully, and a few delicate petals of the flowers dying in her +hair fell like big drops of crimson and white at her feet. + "Did you know?" she whispered. + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 355 + + "No!" said Willems. "They sent for me." + "Tell them to depart. They are accursed. What is +there between them and you--and you who carry my +life in your heart!" + Willems said nothing. He stood before her looking +down on the ground and repeating to himself: I must +get that revolver away from her, at once, at once. +I can't think of trusting myself with those men without +firearms. I must have it. + She asked, after gazing in silence at Joanna, who was +sobbing gently-- + "Who is she?" + "My wife," answered Willems, without looking up. +"My wife according to our white law, which comes +from God!" + "Your law! Your God!" murmured Aissa, con- +temptuously. + "Give me this revolver," said Willems, in a per- +emptory tone. He felt an unwillingness to close with +her, to get it by force. + She took no notice and went on-- + "Your law . . . or your lies? What am I to +believe? I came--I ran to defend you when I saw +the strange men. You lied to me with your lips, with +your eyes. You crooked heart! . . . Ah!" she +added, after an abrupt pause. "She is the first! Am +I then to be a slave?" + "You may be what you like," said Willems, brutally. +"I am going." + Her gaze was fastened on the blanket under which +she had detected a slight movement. She made a long +stride towards it. Willems turned half round. His +legs seemed to him to be made of lead. He felt faint +and so weak that, for a moment, the fear of dying +there where he stood, before he could escape from sin + + +356 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +and disaster, passed through his mind in a wave of +despair. + She lifted up one corner of the blanket, and when +she saw the sleeping child a sudden quick shudder +shook her as though she had seen something inex- +pressibly horrible. She looked at Louis Willems with +eyes fixed in an unbelieving and terrified stare. Then +her fingers opened slowly, and a shadow seemed to +settle on her face as if something obscure and fatal +had come between her and the sunshine. She stood +looking down, absorbed, as though she had watched at +the bottom of a gloomy abyss the mournful procession +of her thoughts. + Willems did not move. All his faculties were con- +centrated upon the idea of his release. And it was +only then that the assurance of it came to him with such +force that he seemed to hear a loud voice shouting in +the heavens that all was over, that in another five, ten +minutes, he would step into another existence; that all +this, the woman, the madness, the sin, the regrets, all +would go, rush into the past, disappear, become as dust, +as smoke, as drifting clouds--as nothing! Yes! All +would vanish in the unappeasable past which would +swallow up all--even the very memory of his temptation +and of his downfall. Nothing mattered. He cared for +nothing. He had forgotten Aissa, his wife, Lingard, +Hudig--everybody, in the rapid vision of his hopeful +future. + After a while he heard Aissa saying-- + "A child! A child! What have I done to be made +to devour this sorrow and this grief? And while your +man-child and the mother lived you told me there was +nothing for you to remember in the land from which +you came! And I thought you could be mine. I +thought that I would . . ." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 357 + + Her voice ceased in a broken murmur, and with it, +in her heart, seemed to die the greater and most precious +hope of her new life. She had hoped that in the future +the frail arms of a child would bind their two lives to- +gether in a bond which nothing on earth could break, +a bond of affection, of gratitude, of tender respect. +She the first--the only one! But in the instant she +saw the son of that other woman she felt herself re- +moved into the cold, the darkness, the silence of a +solitude impenetrable and immense--very far from him, +beyond the possibility of any hope, into an infinity of +wrongs without any redress. + She strode nearer to Joanna. She felt towards that +woman anger, envy, jealousy. Before her she felt +humiliated and enraged. She seized the hanging sleeve +of the jacket in which Joanna was hiding her face and +tore it out of her hands, exclaiming loudly-- + "Let me see the face of her before whom I am only +a servant and a slave. Ya-wa! I see you!" + Her unexpected shout seemed to fill the sunlit space +of cleared grounds, rise high and run on far into the +land over the unstirring tree-tops of the forests. She +stood in sudden stillness, looking at Joanna with sur- +prised contempt. + "A Sirani woman!" she said, slowly, in a tone of +wonder. + Joanna rushed at Willems--clung to him, shriek- +ing: "Defend me, Peter! Defend me from that +woman!" + "Be quiet. There is no danger," muttered Wil- +lems, thickly. + Aissa looked at them with scorn. "God is great! +I sit in the dust at your feet," she exclaimed jeeringly, +joining her hands above her head in a gesture of mock +humility. "Before you I am as nothing." She turned + + +358 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +to Willems fiercely, opening her arms wide. "What +have you made of me?" she cried, "you lying child +of an accursed mother! What have you made of me? +The slave of a slave. Don't speak! Your words are +worse than the poison of snakes. A Sirani woman. +A woman of a people despised by all." + She pointed her finger at Joanna, stepped back, and +began to laugh. + "Make her stop, Peter!" screamed Joanna. "That +heathen woman. Heathen! Heathen! Beat her, +Peter." + Willems caught sight of the revolver which Aissa +had laid on the seat near the child. He spoke in Dutch +to his wife, without moving his head. + "Snatch the boy--and my revolver there. See. +Run to the boat. I will keep her back. Now's the +time." + Aissa came nearer. She stared at Joanna, while +between the short gusts of broken laughter she raved, +fumbling distractedly at the buckle of her belt. + "To her! To her--the mother of him who will +speak of your wisdom, of your courage. All to her. +I have nothing. Nothing. Take, take." + She tore the belt off and threw it at Joanna's feet. +She flung down with haste the armlets, the gold pins, +the flowers; and the long hair, released, fell scattered +over her shoulders, framing in its blackness the wild +exaltation of her face. + "Drive her off, Peter. Drive off the heathen savage," +persisted Joanna. She seemed to have lost her head +altogether. She stamped, clinging to Willems' arm +with both her hands. + "Look," cried Aissa. "Look at the mother of +your son! She is afraid. Why does she not go from +before my face? Look at her. She is ugly." + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 359 + + Joanna seemed to understand the scornful tone of +the words. As Aissa stepped back again nearer to +the tree she let go her husband's arm, rushed at her +madly, slapped her face, then, swerving round, darted +at the child who, unnoticed, had been wailing for +some time, and, snatching him up, flew down to the +waterside, sending shriek after shriek in an access of +insane terror. + Willems made for the revolver. Aissa passed swiftly, +giving him an unexpected push that sent him stag- +gering away from the tree. She caught up the weapon, +put it behind her back, and cried-- + "You shall not have it. Go after her. Go to meet +danger. . . . Go to meet death. . . . Go un- +armed. . . . Go with empty hands and sweet +words . . . as you came to me. . . . Go help- +less and lie to the forests, to the sea . . . to the +death that waits for you. . . ." + She ceased as if strangled. She saw in the horror +of the passing seconds the half-naked, wild-looking +man before her; she heard the faint shrillness of Joan- +na's insane shrieks for help somewhere down by the +riverside. The sunlight streamed on her, on him, on +the mute land, on the murmuring river--the gentle +brilliance of a serene morning that, to her, seemed +traversed by ghastly flashes of uncertain darkness. +Hate filled the world, filled the space between them +--the hate of race, the hate of hopeless diversity, the +hate of blood; the hate against the man born in the +land of lies and of evil from which nothing but misfor- +tune comes to those who are not white. And as she +stood, maddened, she heard a whisper near her, the +whisper of the dead Omar's voice saying in her ear: +"Kill! Kill!" + She cried, seeing him move-- + + +360 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + + "Do not come near me . . . or you die now! +Go while I remember yet . . . remember. . . ." + Willems pulled himself together for a struggle. He +dared not go unarmed. He made a long stride, and +saw her raise the revolver. He noticed that she had +not cocked it, and said to himself that, even if she did +fire, she would surely miss. Go too high; it was a +stiff trigger. He made a step nearer--saw the long +barrel moving unsteadily at the end of her extended +arm. He thought: This is my time . . . He bent +his knees slightly, throwing his body forward, and took +off with a long bound for a tearing rush. + He saw a burst of red flame before his eyes, and +was deafened by a report that seemed to him louder +than a clap of thunder. Something stopped him +short, and he stood aspiring in his nostrils the acrid +smell of the blue smoke that drifted from before his +eyes like an immense cloud. . . . Missed, by +Heaven! . . . Thought so! . . . And he saw +her very far off, throwing her arms up, while the re- +volver, very small, lay on the ground between them. +. . . Missed! . . . He would go and pick it +up now. Never before did he understand, as in that +second, the joy, the triumphant delight of sunshine and +of life. His mouth was full of something salt and warm. +He tried to cough; spat out. . . . Who shrieks: +In the name of God, he dies!--he dies!--Who dies?-- +Must pick up--Night!--What? . . . Night al- +ready. . . . + + * * * * * + + Many years afterwards Almayer was telling the +story of the great revolution in Sambir to a chance +visitor from Europe. He was a Roumanian, half + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 361 + +naturalist, half orchid-hunter for commercial purposes, +who used to declare to everybody, in the first five +minutes of acquaintance, his intention of writing a +scientific book about tropical countries. On his way +to the interior he had quartered himself upon Almayer. +He was a man of some education, but he drank his +gin neat, or only, at most, would squeeze the juice of +half a small lime into the raw spirit. He said it was +good for his health, and, with that medicine before +him, he would describe to the surprised Almayer the +wonders of European capitals; while Almayer, in ex- +change, bored him by expounding, with gusto, his +unfavourable opinions of Sambir's social and political +life. They talked far into the night, across the deal +table on the verandah, while, between them, clear- +winged, small, and flabby insects, dissatisfied with +moonlight, streamed in and perished in thousands +round the smoky light of the evil-smelling lamp. + Almayer, his face flushed, was saying-- + "Of course, I did not see that. I told you I was +stuck in the creek on account of father's--Captain +Lingard's--susceptible temper. I am sure I did it all +for the best in trying to facilitate the fellow's escape; +but Captain Lingard was that kind of man--you know +--one couldn't argue with. Just before sunset the +water was high enough, and we got out of the creek. +We got to Lakamba's clearing about dark. All very +quiet; I thought they were gone, of course, and felt +very glad. We walked up the courtyard--saw a big +heap of something lying in the middle. Out of that +she rose and rushed at us. By God. . . . You +know those stories of faithful dogs watching their mas- +ters' corpses . . . don't let anybody approach +. . . got to beat them off--and all that. . . . +Well, 'pon my word we had to beat her off. Had to! + + +362 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +She was like a fury. Wouldn't let us touch him. +Dead--of course. Should think so. Shot through the +lung, on the left side, rather high up, and at pretty close +quarters too, for the two holes were small. Bullet +came out through the shoulder-blade. After we had +overpowered her--you can't imagine how strong that +woman was; it took three of us--we got the body into +the boat and shoved off. We thought she had fainted +then, but she got up and rushed into the water after us. +Well, I let her clamber in. What could I do? The +river's full of alligators. I will never forget that pull +up-stream in the night as long as I live. She sat in the +bottom of the boat, holding his head in her lap, and now +and again wiping his face with her hair. There was a +lot of blood dried about his mouth and chin. And for +all the six hours of that journey she kept on whispering +tenderly to that corpse! . . . I had the mate of +the schooner with me. The man said afterwards that +he wouldn't go through it again--not for a handful of +diamonds. And I believed him--I did. It makes me +shiver. Do you think he heard? No! I mean some- +body--something--heard? . . ." + "I am a materialist," declared the man of science, +tilting the bottle shakily over the emptied glass. + Almayer shook his head and went on-- + "Nobody saw how it really happened but that man +Mahmat. He always said that he was no further off +from them than two lengths of his lance. It appears +the two women rowed each other while that Willems +stood between them. Then Mahmat says that when +Joanna struck her and ran off, the other two seemed +to become suddenly mad together. They rushed here +and there. Mahmat says--those were his very words: +'I saw her standing holding the pistol that fires many +times and pointing it all over the campong. I was + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 363 + +afraid--lest she might shoot me, and jumped on one +side. Then I saw the white man coming at her swiftly. +He came like our master the tiger when he rushes out +of the jungle at the spears held by men. She did not +take aim. The barrel of her weapon went like this-- +from side to side, but in her eyes I could see suddenly a +great fear. There was only one shot. She shrieked while +the white man stood blinking his eyes and very straight, +till you could count slowly one, two, three; then he +coughed and fell on his face. The daughter of Omar +shrieked without drawing breath, till he fell. I went +away then and left silence behind me. These things +did not concern me, and in my boat there was that +other woman who had promised me money. We left +directly, paying no attention to her cries. We are only +poor men--and had but a small reward for our trouble!' +That's what Mahmat said. Never varied. You ask +him yourself. He's the man you hired the boats from, +for your journey up the river." + "The most rapacious thief I ever met!" exclaimed +the traveller, thickly. + "Ah! He is a respectable man. His two brothers +got themselves speared--served them right. They +went in for robbing Dyak graves. Gold ornaments in +them you know. Serve them right. But he kept +respectable and got on. Aye! Everybody got on-- +but I. And all through that scoundrel who brought the +Arabs here." + "De mortuis nil ni . . . num," muttered Al- +mayer's guest. + "I wish you would speak English instead of jab- +bering in your own language, which no one can under- +stand," said Almayer, sulkily. + "Don't be angry," hiccoughed the other. "It's +Latin, and it's wisdom. It means: Don't waste your + + +364 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +breath in abusing shadows. No offence there. I like +you. You have a quarrel with Providence--so have +I. I was meant to be a professor, while--look." + His head nodded. He sat grasping the glass. Al- +mayer walked up and down, then stopped suddenly. + "Yes, they all got on but I. Why? I am better +than any of them. Lakamba calls himself a Sultan, +and when I go to see him on business sends that one- +eyed fiend of his--Babalatchi--to tell me that the +ruler is asleep; and shall sleep for a long time. And +that Babalatchi! He is the Shahbandar of the State +--if you please. Oh Lord! Shahbandar! The pig! +A vagabond I wouldn't let come up these steps when +he first came here. . . . Look at Abdulla now. +He lives here because--he says--here he is away from +white men. But he has hundreds of thousands. Has +a house in Penang. Ships. What did he not have +when he stole my trade from me! He knocked every- +thing here into a cocked hat, drove father to gold- +hunting--then to Europe, where he disappeared. +Fancy a man like Captain Lingard disappearing as +though he had been a common coolie. Friends of +mine wrote to London asking about him. Nobody +ever heard of him there! Fancy! Never heard of +Captain Lingard!" + The learned gatherer of orchids lifted his head. + "He was a sen--sentimen--tal old buc--buccaneer," +he stammered out, "I like him. I'm sent--tal myself." + He winked slowly at Almayer, who laughed. + "Yes! I told you about that gravestone. Yes! +Another hundred and twenty dollars thrown away. +Wish I had them now. He would do it. And the +inscription. Ha! ha! ha! 'Peter Willems, Delivered +by the Mercy of God from his Enemy.' What enemy +--unless Captain Lingard himself? And then it has + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 365 + +no sense. He was a great man--father was--but +strange in many ways. . . . You haven't seen the +grave? On the top of that hill, there, on the other +side of the river. I must show you. We will go +there." + "Not I!" said the other. "No interest--in the +sun--too tiring. . . . Unless you carry me there." + As a matter of fact he was carried there a few months +afterwards, and his was the second white man's grave +in Sambir; but at present he was alive if rather drunk. +He asked abruptly-- + "And the woman?" + "Oh! Lingard, of course, kept her and her ugly +brat in Macassar. Sinful waste of money--that! +Devil only knows what became of them since father +went home. I had my daughter to look after. I shall +give you a word to Mrs. Vinck in Singapore when you +go back. You shall see my Nina there. Lucky man. +She is beautiful, and I hear so accomplished, so . . ." + "I have heard already twenty . . . a hundred times +about your daughter. What ab--about--that--that +other one, Ai--ssa?" + "She! Oh! we kept her here. She was mad for +a long time in a quiet sort of way. Father thought a +lot of her. He gave her a house to live in, in my +campong. She wandered about, speaking to nobody +unless she caught sight of Abdulla, when she would +have a fit of fury, and shriek and curse like anything. +Very often she would disappear--and then we all had +to turn out and hunt for her, because father would +worry till she was brought back. Found her in all +kinds of places. Once in the abandoned campong of +Lakamba. Sometimes simply wandering in the bush. +She had one favourite spot we always made for at first. +It was ten to one on finding her there--a kind of a + + +366 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +grassy glade on the banks of a small brook. Why she + preferred that place, I can't imagine! And such a +job to get her away from there. Had to drag her +away by main force. Then, as the time passed, she +became quieter and more settled, like. Still, all my +people feared her greatly. It was my Nina that +tamed her. You see the child was naturally fearless +and used to have her own way, so she would go to her +and pull at her sarong, and order her about, as she did +everybody. Finally she, I verily believe, came to +love the child. Nothing could resist that little one-- +you know. She made a capital nurse. Once when +the little devil ran away from me and fell into the +river off the end of the jetty, she jumped in and pulled +her out in no time. I very nearly died of fright. +Now of course she lives with my serving girls, but does +what she likes. As long as I have a handful of rice or a +piece of cotton in the store she sha'n't want for anything. +You have seen her. She brought in the dinner with +Ali." + "What! That doubled-up crone?" + "Ah!" said Almayer. "They age quickly here. +And long foggy nights spent in the bush will soon +break the strongest backs--as you will find out yourself +soon." + "Dis . . . disgusting," growled the traveller. + He dozed off. Almayer stood by the balustrade +looking out at the bluish sheen of the moonlit night. +The forests, unchanged and sombre, seemed to hang +over the water, listening to the unceasing whisper of +the great river; and above their dark wall the hill on +which Lingard had buried the body of his late prisoner +rose in a black, rounded mass, upon the silver paleness +of the sky. Almayer looked for a long time at the +clean-cut outline of the summit, as if trying to make + + +AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS 367 + +out through darkness and distance the shape of that +expensive tombstone. When he turned round at last +he saw his guest sleeping, his arms on the table, his +head on his arms. + "Now, look here!" he shouted, slapping the table +with the palm of his hand. + The naturalist woke up, and sat all in a heap, staring +owlishly. + "Here!" went on Almayer, speaking very loud +and thumping the table, "I want to know. You, +who say you have read all the books, just tell me . . . +why such infernal things are ever allowed. Here I am! +Done harm to nobody, lived an honest life . . . +and a scoundrel like that is born in Rotterdam or some +such place at the other end of the world somewhere, +travels out here, robs his employer, runs away from his +wife, and ruins me and my Nina--he ruined me, I +tell you--and gets himself shot at last by a poor miser- +able savage, that knows nothing at all about him really. +Where's the sense of all this? Where's your Provi- +dence? Where's the good for anybody in all this? +The world's a swindle! A swindle! Why should I +suffer? What have I done to be treated so?" + He howled out his string of questions, and sud- +denly became silent. The man who ought to have +been a professor made a tremendous effort to articulate +distinctly-- + "My dear fellow, don't--don't you see that the ba- +bare fac--the fact of your existence is off--offensive. +. . . I--I like you--like . . ." + He fell forward on the table, and ended his remarks +by an unexpected and prolonged snore. + Almayer shrugged his shoulders and walked back to +the balustrade. He drank his own trade gin very +seldom, but when he did, a ridiculously small quantity + + +368 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS + +of the stuff could induce him to assume a rebellious +attitude towards the scheme of the universe. And +now, throwing his body over the rail, he shouted im- +pudently into the night, turning his face towards +that far-off and invisible slab of imported granite upon +which Lingard had thought fit to record God's mercy +and Willems' escape. + "Father was wrong--wrong!" he yelled. "I want +you to smart for it. You must smart for it! Where +are you, Willems? Hey? . . . Hey? . . . +Where there is no mercy for you--I hope!" + "Hope," repeated in a whispering echo the startled +forests, the river and the hills; and Almayer, who +stood waiting, with a smile of tipsy attention on his +lips, heard no other answer. + + THE END + + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of An Outcast of the Islands + diff --git a/old/outci09.zip b/old/outci09.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..18219ef --- /dev/null +++ b/old/outci09.zip diff --git a/old/outci10.txt b/old/outci10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8a798f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/outci10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12173 @@ +****The Project Gutenberg Etext of An Outcast of the Islands***
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+An Outcast of the Islands
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+
+
+
+An Outcast of the Islands
+
+by Joseph Conrad
+
+
+
+
+
+Pues el delito mayor
+Del hombre es haber nacito
+CALDERON
+
+
+
+TO
+EDWARD LANCELOT SANDERSON
+
+
+
+AUTHOR'S NOTE
+
+"An Outcast of the Islands" is my second novel in the absolute
+sense of the word; second in conception, second in execution,
+second as it were in its essence. There was no hesitation,
+half-formed plan, vague idea, or the vaguest reverie of anything
+else between it and "Almayer's Folly." The only doubt I suffered
+from, after the publication of "Almayer's Folly," was whether I
+should write another line for print. Those days, now grown so
+dim, had their poignant moments. Neither in my mind nor in my
+heart had I then given up the sea. In truth I was clinging to it
+desperately, all the more desperately because, against my will, I
+could not help feeling that there was something changed in my
+relation to it. "Almayer's Folly," had been finished and done
+with. The mood itself was gone. But it had left the memory of
+an experience that, both in thought and emotion was unconnected
+with the sea, and I suppose that part of my moral being which is
+rooted in consistency was badly shaken. I was a victim of
+contrary stresses which produced a state of immobility. I gave
+myself up to indolence. Since it was impossible for me to face
+both ways I had elected to face nothing. The discovery of new
+values in life is a very chaotic experience; there is a
+tremendous amount of jostling and confusion and a momentary
+feeling of darkness. I let my spirit float supine over that
+chaos.
+
+A phrase of Edward Garnett's is, as a matter of fact, responsible
+for this book. The first of the friends I made for myself by my
+pen it was but natural that he should be the recipient, at that
+time, of my confidences. One evening when we had dined together
+and he had listened to the account of my perplexities (I fear he
+must have been growing a little tired of them) he pointed out
+that there was no need to determine my future absolutely. Then
+he added: "You have the style, you have the temperament; why not
+write another?" I believe that as far as one man may wish to
+influence another man's life Edward Garnett had a great desire
+that I should go on writing. At that time, and I may say, ever
+afterwards, he was always very patient and gentle with me. What
+strikes me most however in the phrase quoted above which was
+offered to me in a tone of detachment is not its gentleness but
+its effective wisdom. Had he said, "Why not go on writing," it
+is very probable he would have scared me away from pen and ink
+for ever; but there was nothing either to frighten one or arouse
+one's antagonism in the mere suggestion to "write another." And
+thus a dead point in the revolution of my affairs was insidiously
+got over. The word "another" did it. At about eleven o'clock of
+a nice London night, Edward and I walked along interminable
+streets talking of many things, and I remember that on getting
+home I sat down and wrote about half a page of "An Outcast of the
+Islands" before I slept. This was committing myself definitely,
+I won't say to another life, but to another book. There is
+apparently something in my character which will not allow me to
+abandon for good any piece of work I have begun. I have laid
+aside many beginnings. I have laid them aside with sorrow, with
+disgust, with rage, with melancholy and even with self-contempt;
+but even at the worst I had an uneasy consciousness that I would
+have to go back to them.
+
+"An Outcast of the Islands" belongs to those novels of mine that
+were never laid aside; and though it brought me the qualification
+of "exotic writer" I don't think the charge was at all justified.
+
+For the life of me I don't see that there is the slightest exotic
+spirit in the conception or style of that novel. It is certainly
+the most TROPICAL of my eastern tales. The mere scenery got a
+great hold on me as I went on, perhaps because (I may just as
+well confess that) the story itself was never very near my heart.
+
+It engaged my imagination much more than my affection. As to my
+feeling for Willems it was but the regard one cannot help having
+for one's own creation. Obviously I could not be indifferent to
+a man on whose head I had brought so much evil simply by
+imagining him such as he appears in the novel--and that, too, on
+a very slight foundation.
+
+The man who suggested Willems to me was not particularly
+interesting in himself. My interest was aroused by his dependent
+position, his strange, dubious status of a mistrusted, disliked,
+worn-out European living on the reluctant toleration of that
+Settlement hidden in the heart of the forest-land, up that sombre
+stream which our ship was the only white men's ship to visit.
+With his hollow, clean-shaved cheeks, a heavy grey moustache and
+eyes without any expression whatever, clad always in a spotless
+sleeping suit much be-frogged in front, which left his lean neck
+wholly uncovered, and with his bare feet in a pair of straw
+slippers, he wandered silently amongst the houses in daylight,
+almost as dumb as an animal and apparently much more homeless. I
+don't know what he did with himself at night. He must have had a
+place, a hut, a palm-leaf shed, some sort of hovel where he kept
+his razor and his change of sleeping suits. An air of futile
+mystery hung over him, something not exactly dark but obviously
+ugly. The only definite statement I could extract from anybody
+was that it was he who had "brought the Arabs into the river."
+That must have happened many years before. But how did he bring
+them into the river? He could hardly have done it in his arms
+like a lot of kittens. I knew that Almayer founded the
+chronology of all his misfortunes on the date of that fateful
+advent; and yet the very first time we dined with Almayer there
+was Willems sitting at table with us in the manner of the
+skeleton at the feast, obviously shunned by everybody, never
+addressed by any one, and for all recognition of his existence
+getting now and then from Almayer a venomous glance which I
+observed with great surprise. In the course of the whole evening
+he ventured one single remark which I didn't catch because his
+articulation was imperfect, as of a man who had forgotten how to
+speak. I was the only person who seemed aware of the sound.
+Willems subsided. Presently he retired, pointedly
+unnoticed--into the forest maybe? Its immensity was there,
+within three hundred yards of the verandah, ready to swallow up
+anything. Almayer conversing with my captain did not stop talking
+while he glared angrily at the retreating back. Didn't that
+fellow bring the Arabs into the river! Nevertheless Willems
+turned up next morning on Almayer's verandah. From the bridge of
+the steamer I could see plainly these two, breakfasting together,
+tete a tete and, I suppose, in dead silence, one with his air of
+being no longer interested in this world and the other raising
+his eyes now and then with intense dislike.
+
+It was clear that in those days Willems lived on Almayer's
+charity. Yet on returning two months later to Sambir I heard
+that he had gone on an expedition up the river in charge of a
+steam-launch belonging to the Arabs, to make some discovery or
+other. On account of the strange reluctance that everyone
+manifested to talk about Willems it was impossible for me to get
+at the rights of that transaction. Moreover, I was a newcomer,
+the youngest of the company, and, I suspect, not judged quite fit
+as yet for a full confidence. I was not much concerned about
+that exclusion. The faint suggestion of plots and mysteries
+pertaining to all matters touching Almayer's affairs amused me
+vastly. Almayer was obviously very much affected. I believe he
+missed Willems immensely. He wore an air of sinister
+preoccupation and talked confidentially with my captain. I could
+catch only snatches of mumbled sentences. Then one morning as I
+came along the deck to take my place at the breakfast table
+Almayer checked himself in his low-toned discourse. My captain's
+face was perfectly impenetrable. There was a moment of profound
+silence and then as if unable to contain himself Almayer burst
+out in a loud vicious tone:
+
+"One thing's certain; if he finds anything worth having up there
+they will poison him like a dog."
+
+Disconnected though it was, that phrase, as food for thought, was
+distinctly worth hearing. We left the river three days
+afterwards and I never returned to Sambir; but whatever happened
+to the protagonist of my Willems nobody can deny that I have
+recorded for him a less squalid fate.
+
+J. C.
+1919.
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+When he stepped off the straight and narrow path of his peculiar
+honesty, it was with an inward assertion of unflinching resolve
+to fall back again into the monotonous but safe stride of virtue
+as soon as his little excursion into the wayside quagmires had
+produced the desired effect. It was going to be a short
+episode--a sentence in brackets, so to speak--in the flowing tale
+of his life: a thing of no moment, to be done unwillingly, yet
+neatly, and to be quickly forgotten. He imagined that he could
+go on afterwards looking at the sunshine, enjoying the shade,
+breathing in the perfume of flowers in the small garden before
+his house. He fancied that nothing would be changed, that he
+would be able as heretofore to tyrannize good-humouredly over his
+half-caste wife, to notice with tender contempt his pale yellow
+child, to patronize loftily his dark-skinned brother-in-law, who
+loved pink neckties and wore patent-leather boots on his little
+feet, and was so humble before the white husband of the lucky
+sister. Those were the delights of his life, and he was unable to
+conceive that the moral significance of any act of his could
+interfere with the very nature of things, could dim the light of
+the sun, could destroy the perfume of the flowers, the submission
+of his wife, the smile of his child, the awe-struck respect of
+Leonard da Souza and of all the Da Souza family. That family's
+admiration was the great luxury of his life. It rounded and
+completed his existence in a perpetual assurance of
+unquestionable superiority. He loved to breathe the coarse
+incense they offered before the shrine of the successful white
+man; the man that had done them the honour to marry their
+daughter, sister, cousin; the rising man sure to climb very high;
+the confidential clerk of Hudig & Co. They were a numerous and
+an unclean crowd, living in ruined bamboo houses, surrounded by
+neglected compounds, on the outskirts of Macassar. He kept them
+at arm's length and even further off, perhaps, having no
+illusions as to their worth. They were a half-caste, lazy lot,
+and he saw them as they were--ragged, lean, unwashed, undersized
+men of various ages, shuffling about aimlessly in slippers;
+motionless old women who looked like monstrous bags of pink
+calico stuffed with shapeless lumps of fat, and deposited askew
+upon decaying rattan chairs in shady corners of dusty verandahs;
+young women, slim and yellow, big-eyed, long-haired, moving
+languidly amongst the dirt and rubbish of their dwellings as if
+every step they took was going to be their very last. He heard
+their shrill quarrellings, the squalling of their children, the
+grunting of their pigs; he smelt the odours of the heaps of
+garbage in their courtyards: and he was greatly disgusted. But
+he fed and clothed that shabby multitude; those degenerate
+descendants of Portuguese conquerors; he was their providence; he
+kept them singing his praises in the midst of their laziness, of
+their dirt, of their immense and hopeless squalor: and he was
+greatly delighted. They wanted much, but he could give them all
+they wanted without ruining himself. In exchange he had their
+silent fear, their loquacious love, their noisy veneration. It
+is a fine thing to be a providence, and to be told so on every
+day of one's life. It gives one a feeling of enormously remote
+superiority, and Willems revelled in it. He did not analyze the
+state of his mind, but probably his greatest delight lay in the
+unexpressed but intimate conviction that, should he close his
+hand, all those admiring human beings would starve. His
+munificence had demoralized them. An easy task. Since he
+descended amongst them and married Joanna they had lost the
+little aptitude and strength for work they might have had to put
+forth under the stress of extreme necessity. They lived now by
+the grace of his will. This was power. Willems loved it.
+In another, and perhaps a lower plane, his days did not want for
+their less complex but more obvious pleasures. He liked the
+simple games of skill--billiards; also games not so simple, and
+calling for quite another kind of skill--poker. He had been the
+aptest pupil of a steady-eyed, sententious American, who had
+drifted mysteriously into Macassar from the wastes of the
+Pacific, and, after knocking about for a time in the eddies of
+town life, had drifted out enigmatically into the sunny solitudes
+of the Indian Ocean. The memory of the Californian stranger was
+perpetuated in the game of poker--which became popular in the
+capital of Celebes from that time--and in a powerful cocktail,
+the recipe for which is transmitted--in the Kwang-tung
+dialect--from head boy to head boy of the Chinese servants in the
+Sunda Hotel even to this day. Willems was a connoisseur in the
+drink and an adept at the game. Of those accomplishments he was
+moderately proud. Of the confidence reposed in him by Hudig--the
+master--he was boastfully and obtrusively proud. This arose from
+his great benevolence, and from an exalted sense of his duty to
+himself and the world at large. He experienced that irresistible
+impulse to impart information which is inseparable from gross
+ignorance. There is always some one thing which the ignorant man
+knows, and that thing is the only thing worth knowing; it fills
+the ignorant man's universe. Willems knew all about himself. On
+the day when, with many misgivings, he ran away from a Dutch
+East-Indiaman in Samarang roads, he had commenced that study of
+himself, of his own ways, of his own abilities, of those
+fate-compelling qualities of his which led him toward that
+lucrative position which he now filled. Being of a modest and
+diffident nature, his successes amazed, almost frightened him,
+and ended--as he got over the succeeding shocks of surprise--by
+making him ferociously conceited. He believed in his genius and
+in his knowledge of the world. Others should know of it also;
+for their own good and for his greater glory. All those friendly
+men who slapped him on the back and greeted him noisily should
+have the benefit of his example. For that he must talk. He
+talked to them conscientiously. In the afternoon he expounded his
+theory of success over the little tables, dipping now and then
+his moustache in the crushed ice of the cocktails; in the evening
+he would often hold forth, cue in hand, to a young listener
+across the billiard table. The billiard balls stood still as if
+listening also, under the vivid brilliance of the shaded oil
+lamps hung low over the cloth; while away in the shadows of the
+big room the Chinaman marker would lean wearily against the wall,
+the blank mask of his face looking pale under the mahogany
+marking-board; his eyelids dropped in the drowsy fatigue of late
+hours and in the buzzing monotony of the unintelligible stream of
+words poured out by the white man. In a sudden pause of the talk
+the game would recommence with a sharp click and go on for a time
+in the flowing soft whirr and the subdued thuds as the balls
+rolled zig-zagging towards the inevitably successful cannon.
+Through the big windows and the open doors the salt dampness of
+the sea, the vague smell of mould and flowers from the garden of
+the hotel drifted in and mingled with the odour of lamp oil,
+growing heavier as the night advanced. The players' heads dived
+into the light as they bent down for the stroke, springing back
+again smartly into the greenish gloom of broad lamp-shades; the
+clock ticked methodically; the unmoved Chinaman continuously
+repeated the score in a lifeless voice, like a big talking
+doll--and Willems would win the game. With a remark that it was
+getting late, and that he was a married man, he would say a
+patronizing good-night and step out into the long, empty street.
+At that hour its white dust was like a dazzling streak of
+moonlight where the eye sought repose in the dimmer gleam of rare
+oil lamps. Willems walked homewards, following the line of walls
+overtopped by the luxuriant vegetation of the front gardens. The
+houses right and left were hidden behind the black masses of
+flowering shrubs. Willems had the street to himself. He would
+walk in the middle, his shadow gliding obsequiously before him.
+He looked down on it complacently. The shadow of a successful
+man! He would be slightly dizzy with the cocktails and with the
+intoxication of his own glory. As he often told people, he came
+east fourteen years ago--a cabin boy. A small boy. His shadow
+must have been very small at that time; he thought with a smile
+that he was not aware then he had anything--even a shadow--which
+he dared call his own. And now he was looking at the shadow of
+the confidential clerk of Hudig & Co. going home. How glorious!
+How good was life for those that were on the winning side! He
+had won the game of life; also the game of billiards. He walked
+faster, jingling his winnings, and thinking of the white stone
+days that had marked the path of his existence. He thought of the
+trip to Lombok for ponies--that first important transaction
+confided to him by Hudig; then he reviewed the more important
+affairs: the quiet deal in opium; the illegal traffic in
+gunpowder; the great affair of smuggled firearms, the difficult
+business of the Rajah of Goak. He carried that last through by
+sheer pluck; he had bearded the savage old ruler in his council
+room; he had bribed him with a gilt glass coach, which, rumour
+said, was used as a hen-coop now; he had over-persuaded him; he
+had bested him in every way. That was the way to get on. He
+disapproved of the elementary dishonesty that dips the hand in
+the cash-box, but one could evade the laws and push the
+principles of trade to their furthest consequences. Some call
+that cheating. Those are the fools, the weak, the contemptible.
+The wise, the strong, the respected, have no scruples. Where
+there are scruples there can be no power. On that text he
+preached often to the young men. It was his doctrine, and he,
+himself, was a shining example of its truth.
+
+Night after night he went home thus, after a day of toil and
+pleasure, drunk with the sound of his own voice celebrating his
+own prosperity. On his thirtieth birthday he went home thus. He
+had spent in good company a nice, noisy evening, and, as he
+walked along the empty street, the feeling of his own greatness
+grew upon him, lifted him above the white dust of the road, and
+filled him with exultation and regrets. He had not done himself
+justice over there in the hotel, he had not talked enough about
+himself, he had not impressed his hearers enough. Never mind.
+Some other time. Now he would go home and make his wife get up
+and listen to him. Why should she not get up?--and mix a
+cocktail for him--and listen patiently. Just so. She shall. If
+he wanted he could make all the Da Souza family get up. He had
+only to say a word and they would all come and sit silently in
+their night vestments on the hard, cold ground of his compound
+and listen, as long as he wished to go on explaining to them from
+the top of the stairs, how great and good he was. They would.
+However, his wife would do--for to-night.
+
+His wife! He winced inwardly. A dismal woman with startled eyes
+and dolorously drooping mouth, that would listen to him in pained
+wonder and mute stillness. She was used to those night-discourses
+now. She had rebelled once--at the beginning. Only once. Now,
+while he sprawled in the long chair and drank and talked, she
+would stand at the further end of the table, her hands resting on
+the edge, her frightened eyes watching his lips, without a sound,
+without a stir, hardly breathing, till he dismissed her with a
+contemptuous: "Go to bed, dummy." She would draw a long breath
+then and trail out of the room, relieved but unmoved. Nothing
+could startle her, make her scold or make her cry. She did not
+complain, she did not rebel. That first difference of theirs was
+decisive. Too decisive, thought Willems, discontentedly. It had
+frightened the soul out of her body apparently. A dismal woman!
+A damn'd business altogether! What the devil did he want to go
+and saddle himself. . . . Ah! Well! he wanted a home, and the
+match seemed to please Hudig, and Hudig gave him the bungalow,
+that flower-bowered house to which he was wending his way in the
+cool moonlight. And he had the worship of the Da Souza tribe. A
+man of his stamp could carry off anything, do anything, aspire to
+anything. In another five years those white people who attended
+the Sunday card-parties of the Governor would accept
+him--half-caste wife and all! Hooray! He saw his shadow dart
+forward and wave a hat, as big as a rum barrel, at the end of an
+arm several yards long. . . . Who shouted hooray? . . . He
+smiled shamefacedly to himself, and, pushing his hands deep into
+his pockets, walked faster with a suddenly grave face.
+Behind him--to the left--a cigar end glowed in the gateway of Mr.
+Vinck's front yard. Leaning against one of the brick pillars,
+Mr. Vinck, the cashier of Hudig & Co., smoked the last cheroot of
+the evening. Amongst the shadows of the trimmed bushes Mrs.
+Vinck crunched slowly, with measured steps, the gravel of the
+circular path before the house.
+
+"There's Willems going home on foot--and drunk I fancy," said Mr.
+Vinck over his shoulder. "I saw him jump and wave his hat."
+
+The crunching of the gravel stopped.
+
+"Horrid man," said Mrs. Vinck, calmly. "I have heard he beats
+his wife."
+
+"Oh no, my dear, no," muttered absently Mr. Vinck, with a vague
+gesture. The aspect of Willems as a wife-beater presented to him
+no interest. How women do misjudge! If Willems wanted to
+torture his wife he would have recourse to less primitive
+methods. Mr. Vinck knew Willems well, and believed him to be
+very able, very smart--objectionably so. As he took the last
+quick draws at the stump of his cheroot, Mr. Vinck reflected that
+the confidence accorded by Hudig to Willems was open, under the
+circumstances, to loyal criticism from Hudig's cashier.
+
+"He is becoming dangerous; he knows too much. He will have to be
+got rid of," said Mr. Vinck aloud. But Mrs. Vinck had gone in
+already, and after shaking his head he threw away his cheroot and
+followed her slowly.
+
+Willems walked on homeward weaving the splendid web of his
+future. The road to greatness lay plainly before his eyes,
+straight and shining, without any obstacle that he could see. He
+had stepped off the path of honesty, as he understood it, but he
+would soon regain it, never to leave it any more! It was a very
+small matter. He would soon put it right again. Meantime his
+duty was not to be found out, and he trusted in his skill, in his
+luck, in his well-established reputation that would disarm
+suspicion if anybody dared to suspect. But nobody would dare!
+True, he was conscious of a slight deterioration. He had
+appropriated temporarily some of Hudig's money. A deplorable
+necessity. But he judged himself with the indulgence that should
+be extended to the weaknesses of genius. He would make
+reparation and all would be as before; nobody would be the loser
+for it, and he would go on unchecked toward the brilliant goal of
+his ambition.
+
+Hudig's partner!
+
+Before going up the steps of his house he stood for awhile, his
+feet well apart, chin in hand, contemplating mentally Hudig's
+future partner. A glorious occupation. He saw him quite safe;
+solid as the hills; deep--deep as an abyss; discreet as the
+grave.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+
+The sea, perhaps because of its saltness, roughens the outside
+but keeps sweet the kernel of its servants' soul. The old sea;
+the sea of many years ago, whose servants were devoted slaves and
+went from youth to age or to a sudden grave without needing to
+open the book of life, because they could look at eternity
+reflected on the element that gave the life and dealt the death.
+Like a beautiful and unscrupulous woman, the sea of the past was
+glorious in its smiles, irresistible in its anger, capricious,
+enticing, illogical, irresponsible; a thing to love, a thing to
+fear. It cast a spell, it gave joy, it lulled gently into
+boundless faith; then with quick and causeless anger it killed.
+But its cruelty was redeemed by the charm of its inscrutable
+mystery, by the immensity of its promise, by the supreme witchery
+of its possible favour. Strong men with childlike hearts were
+faithful to it, were content to live by its grace--to die by its
+will. That was the sea before the time when the French mind set
+the Egyptian muscle in motion and produced a dismal but
+profitable ditch. Then a great pall of smoke sent out by
+countless steam-boats was spread over the restless mirror of the
+Infinite. The hand of the engineer tore down the veil of the
+terrible beauty in order that greedy and faithless landlubbers
+might pocket dividends. The mystery was destroyed. Like all
+mysteries, it lived only in the hearts of its worshippers. The
+hearts changed; the men changed. The once loving and devoted
+servants went out armed with fire and iron, and conquering the
+fear of their own hearts became a calculating crowd of cold and
+exacting masters. The sea of the past was an incomparably
+beautiful mistress, with inscrutable face, with cruel and
+promising eyes. The sea of to-day is a used-up drudge, wrinkled
+and defaced by the churned-up wakes of brutal propellers, robbed
+of the enslaving charm of its vastness, stripped of its beauty,
+of its mystery and of its promise.
+
+Tom Lingard was a master, a lover, a servant of the sea. The sea
+took him young, fashioned him body and soul; gave him his fierce
+aspect, his loud voice, his fearless eyes, his stupidly guileless
+heart. Generously it gave him his absurd faith in himself, his
+universal love of creation, his wide indulgence, his contemptuous
+severity, his straightforward simplicity of motive and honesty of
+aim. Having made him what he was, womanlike, the sea served him
+humbly and let him bask unharmed in the sunshine of its terribly
+uncertain favour. Tom Lingard grew rich on the sea and by the
+sea. He loved it with the ardent affection of a lover, he made
+light of it with the assurance of perfect mastery, he feared it
+with the wise fear of a brave man, and he took liberties with it
+as a spoiled child might do with a paternal and good-natured
+ogre. He was grateful to it, with the gratitude of an honest
+heart. His greatest pride lay in his profound conviction of its
+faithfulness--in the deep sense of his unerring knowledge of its
+treachery.
+
+The little brig Flash was the instrument of Lingard's fortune.
+They came north together--both young--out of an Australian port,
+and after a very few years there was not a white man in the
+islands, from Palembang to Ternate, from Ombawa to Palawan, that
+did not know Captain Tom and his lucky craft. He was liked for
+his reckless generosity, for his unswerving honesty, and at first
+was a little feared on account of his violent temper. Very soon,
+however, they found him out, and the word went round that Captain
+Tom's fury was less dangerous than many a man's smile. He
+prospered greatly. After his first--and successful--fight with
+the sea robbers, when he rescued, as rumour had it, the yacht of
+some big wig from home, somewhere down Carimata way, his great
+popularity began. As years went on it grew apace. Always
+visiting out-of-the-way places of that part of the world, always
+in search of new markets for his cargoes--not so much for profit
+as for the pleasure of finding them--he soon became known to the
+Malays, and by his successful recklessness in several encounters
+with pirates, established the terror of his name. Those white
+men with whom he had business, and who naturally were on the
+look-out for his weaknesses, could easily see that it was enough
+to give him his Malay title to flatter him greatly. So when there
+was anything to be gained by it, and sometimes out of pure and
+unprofitable good nature, they would drop the ceremonious
+"Captain Lingard" and address him half seriously as Rajah
+Laut--the King of the Sea.
+
+He carried the name bravely on his broad shoulders. He had
+carried it many years already when the boy Willems ran barefooted
+on the deck of the ship Kosmopoliet IV. in Samarang roads,
+looking with innocent eyes on the strange shore and objurgating
+his immediate surroundings with blasphemous lips, while his
+childish brain worked upon the heroic idea of running away. From
+the poop of the Flash Lingard saw in the early morning the Dutch
+ship get lumberingly under weigh, bound for the eastern ports.
+Very late in the evening of the same day he stood on the quay of
+the landing canal, ready to go on board of his brig. The night
+was starry and clear; the little custom-house building was shut
+up, and as the gharry that brought him down disappeared up the
+long avenue of dusty trees leading to the town, Lingard thought
+himself alone on the quay. He roused up his sleeping boat-crew
+and stood waiting for them to get ready, when he felt a tug at
+his coat and a thin voice said, very distinctly--
+
+"English captain."
+
+Lingard turned round quickly, and what seemed to be a very lean
+boy jumped back with commendable activity.
+
+"Who are you? Where do you spring from?" asked Lingard, in
+startled surprise.
+
+From a safe distance the boy pointed toward a cargo lighter
+moored to the quay.
+
+"Been hiding there, have you?" said Lingard. "Well, what do you
+want? Speak out, confound you. You did not come here to scare
+me to death, for fun, did you?"
+
+The boy tried to explain in imperfect English, but very soon
+Lingard interrupted him.
+
+"I see," he exclaimed, "you ran away from the big ship that
+sailed this morning. Well, why don't you go to your countrymen
+here?"
+
+"Ship gone only a little way--to Sourabaya. Make me go back to
+the ship," explained the boy.
+
+"Best thing for you," affirmed Lingard with conviction.
+
+"No," retorted the boy; "me want stop here; not want go home.
+Get money here; home no good."
+
+"This beats all my going a-fishing," commented the astonished
+Lingard. "It's money you want? Well! well! And you were not
+afraid to run away, you bag of bones, you!"
+
+The boy intimated that he was frightened of nothing but of being
+sent back to the ship. Lingard looked at him in meditative
+silence.
+
+"Come closer," he said at last. He took the boy by the chin, and
+turning up his face gave him a searching look. "How old are
+you?"
+
+"Seventeen."
+
+"There's not much of you for seventeen. Are you hungry?"
+
+"A little."
+
+"Will you come with me, in that brig there?"
+
+The boy moved without a word towards the boat and scrambled into
+the bows.
+
+"Knows his place," muttered Lingard to himself as he stepped
+heavily into the stern sheets and took up the yoke lines. "Give
+way there."
+
+The Malay boat crew lay back together, and the gig sprang away
+from the quay heading towards the brig's riding light.
+
+Such was the beginning of Willems' career.
+
+Lingard learned in half an hour all that there was of Willems'
+commonplace story. Father outdoor clerk of some ship-broker in
+Rotterdam; mother dead. The boy quick in learning, but idle in
+school. The straitened circumstances in the house filled with
+small brothers and sisters, sufficiently clothed and fed but
+otherwise running wild, while the disconsolate widower tramped
+about all day in a shabby overcoat and imperfect boots on the
+muddy quays, and in the evening piloted wearily the
+half-intoxicated foreign skippers amongst the places of cheap
+delights, returning home late, sick with too much smoking and
+drinking--for company's sake--with these men, who expected such
+attentions in the way of business. Then the offer of the
+good-natured captain of Kosmopoliet IV., who was pleased to do
+something for the patient and obliging fellow; young Willems'
+great joy, his still greater disappointment with the sea that
+looked so charming from afar, but proved so hard and exacting on
+closer acquaintance--and then this running away by a sudden
+impulse. The boy was hopelessly at variance with the spirit of
+the sea. He had an instinctive contempt for the honest
+simplicity of that work which led to nothing he cared for.
+Lingard soon found this out. He offered to send him home in an
+English ship, but the boy begged hard to be permitted to remain.
+He wrote a beautiful hand, became soon perfect in English, was
+quick at figures; and Lingard made him useful in that way. As he
+grew older his trading instincts developed themselves
+astonishingly, and Lingard left him often to trade in one island
+or another while he, himself, made an intermediate trip to some
+out-of-the-way place. On Willems expressing a wish to that
+effect, Lingard let him enter Hudig's service. He felt a little
+sore at that abandonment because he had attached himself, in a
+way, to his protege. Still he was proud of him, and spoke up for
+him loyally. At first it was, "Smart boy that--never make a
+seaman though." Then when Willems was helping in the trading he
+referred to him as "that clever young fellow." Later when
+Willems became the confidential agent of Hudig, employed in many
+a delicate affair, the simple-hearted old seaman would point an
+admiring finger at his back and whisper to whoever stood near at
+the moment, "Long-headed chap that; deuced long-headed chap.
+Look at him. Confidential man of old Hudig. I picked him up in
+a ditch, you may say, like a starved cat. Skin and bone. 'Pon my
+word I did. And now he knows more than I do about island
+trading. Fact. I am not joking. More than I do," he would
+repeat, seriously, with innocent pride in his honest eyes.
+
+From the safe elevation of his commercial successes Willems
+patronized Lingard. He had a liking for his benefactor, not
+unmixed with some disdain for the crude directness of the old
+fellow's methods of conduct. There were, however, certain sides
+of Lingard's character for which Willems felt a qualified
+respect. The talkative seaman knew how to be silent on certain
+matters that to Willems were very interesting. Besides, Lingard
+was rich, and that in itself was enough to compel Willems'
+unwilling admiration. In his confidential chats with Hudig,
+Willems generally alluded to the benevolent Englishman as the
+"lucky old fool" in a very distinct tone of vexation; Hudig would
+grunt an unqualified assent, and then the two would look at each
+other in a sudden immobility of pupils fixed by a stare of
+unexpressed thought.
+
+"You can't find out where he gets all that india-rubber, hey
+Willems?" Hudig would ask at last, turning away and bending over
+the papers on his desk.
+
+"No, Mr. Hudig. Not yet. But I am trying," was Willems'
+invariable reply, delivered with a ring of regretful deprecation.
+
+"Try! Always try! You may try! You think yourself clever
+perhaps," rumbled on Hudig, without looking up. "I have been
+trading with him twenty--thirty years now. The old fox. And I
+have tried. Bah!"
+
+He stretched out a short, podgy leg and contemplated the bare
+instep and the grass slipper hanging by the toes. "You can't
+make him drunk?" he would add, after a pause of stertorous
+breathing.
+
+"No, Mr. Hudig, I can't really," protested Willems, earnestly.
+
+"Well, don't try. I know him. Don't try," advised the master,
+and, bending again over his desk, his staring bloodshot eyes
+close to the paper, he would go on tracing laboriously with his
+thick fingers the slim unsteady letters of his correspondence,
+while Willems waited respectfully for his further good pleasure
+before asking, with great deference--
+
+"Any orders, Mr. Hudig?"
+
+"Hm! yes. Go to Bun-Hin yourself and see the dollars of that
+payment counted and packed, and have them put on board the
+mail-boat for Ternate. She's due here this afternoon."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Hudig."
+
+"And, look here. If the boat is late, leave the case in
+Bun-Hin's godown till to-morrow. Seal it up. Eight seals as
+usual. Don't take it away till the boat is here."
+
+"No, Mr. Hudig."
+
+"And don't forget about these opium cases. It's for to-night.
+Use my own boatmen. Transship them from the Caroline to the Arab
+barque," went on the master in his hoarse undertone. "And don't
+you come to me with another story of a case dropped overboard
+like last time," he added, with sudden ferocity, looking up at
+his confidential clerk.
+
+"No, Mr. Hudig. I will take care."
+
+"That's all. Tell that pig as you go out that if he doesn't make
+the punkah go a little better I will break every bone in his
+body," finished up Hudig, wiping his purple face with a red silk
+handkerchief nearly as big as a counterpane.
+
+Noiselessly Willems went out, shutting carefully behind him the
+little green door through which he passed to the warehouse.
+Hudig, pen in hand, listened to him bullying the punkah boy with
+profane violence, born of unbounded zeal for the master's
+comfort, before he returned to his writing amid the rustling of
+papers fluttering in the wind sent down by the punkah that waved
+in wide sweeps above his head.
+
+Willems would nod familiarly to Mr. Vinck, who had his desk close
+to the little door of the private office, and march down the
+warehouse with an important air. Mr. Vinck--extreme dislike
+lurking in every wrinkle of his gentlemanly countenance--would
+follow with his eyes the white figure flitting in the gloom
+amongst the piles of bales and cases till it passed out through
+the big archway into the glare of the street.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+
+The opportunity and the temptation were too much for Willems, and
+under the pressure of sudden necessity he abused that trust which
+was his pride, the perpetual sign of his cleverness and a load
+too heavy for him to carry. A run of bad luck at cards, the
+failure of a small speculation undertaken on his own account, an
+unexpected demand for money from one or another member of the Da
+Souza family--and almost before he was well aware of it he was
+off the path of his peculiar honesty. It was such a faint and
+ill-defined track that it took him some time to find out how far
+he had strayed amongst the brambles of the dangerous wilderness
+he had been skirting for so many years, without any other guide
+than his own convenience and that doctrine of success which he
+had found for himself in the book of life--in those interesting
+chapters that the Devil has been permitted to write in it, to
+test the sharpness of men's eyesight and the steadfastness of
+their hearts. For one short, dark and solitary moment he was
+dismayed, but he had that courage that will not scale heights,
+yet will wade bravely through the mud--if there be no other road.
+He applied himself to the task of restitution, and devoted
+himself to the duty of not being found out. On his thirtieth
+birthday he had almost accomplished the task--and the duty had
+been faithfully and cleverly performed. He saw himself safe.
+Again he could look hopefully towards the goal of his legitimate
+ambition. Nobody would dare to suspect him, and in a few days
+there would be nothing to suspect. He was elated. He did not
+know that his prosperity had touched then its high-water mark,
+and that the tide was already on the turn.
+
+Two days afterwards he knew. Mr. Vinck, hearing the rattle of
+the door-handle, jumped up from his desk--where he had been
+tremulously listening to the loud voices in the private
+office--and buried his face in the big safe with nervous haste.
+For the last time Willems passed through the little green door
+leading to Hudig's sanctum, which, during the past half-hour,
+might have been taken--from the fiendish noise within--for the
+cavern of some wild beast. Willems' troubled eyes took in the
+quick impression of men and things as he came out from the place
+of his humiliation. He saw the scared expression of the punkah
+boy; the Chinamen tellers sitting on their heels with unmovable
+faces turned up blankly towards him while their arrested hands
+hovered over the little piles of bright guilders ranged on the
+floor; Mr. Vinck's shoulder-blades with the fleshy rims of two
+red ears above. He saw the long avenue of gin cases stretching
+from where he stood to the arched doorway beyond which he would
+be able to breathe perhaps. A thin rope's end lay across his
+path and he saw it distinctly, yet stumbled heavily over it as if
+it had been a bar of iron. Then he found himself in the street
+at last, but could not find air enough to fill his lungs. He
+walked towards his home, gasping.
+
+As the sound of Hudig's insults that lingered in his ears grew
+fainter by the lapse of time, the feeling of shame was replaced
+slowly by a passion of anger against himself and still more
+against the stupid concourse of circumstances that had driven him
+into his idiotic indiscretion. Idiotic indiscretion; that is how
+he defined his guilt to himself. Could there be anything worse
+from the point of view of his undeniable cleverness? What a
+fatal aberration of an acute mind! He did not recognize himself
+there. He must have been mad. That's it. A sudden gust of
+madness. And now the work of long years was destroyed utterly.
+What would become of him?
+
+Before he could answer that question he found himself in the
+garden before his house, Hudig's wedding gift. He looked at it
+with a vague surprise to find it there. His past was so utterly
+gone from him that the dwelling which belonged to it appeared to
+him incongruous standing there intact, neat, and cheerful in the
+sunshine of the hot afternoon. The house was a pretty little
+structure all doors and windows, surrounded on all sides by the
+deep verandah supported on slender columns clothed in the green
+foliage of creepers, which also fringed the overhanging eaves of
+the high-pitched roof. Slowly, Willems mounted the dozen steps
+that led to the verandah. He paused at every step. He must tell
+his wife. He felt frightened at the prospect, and his alarm
+dismayed him. Frightened to face her! Nothing could give him a
+better measure of the greatness of the change around him, and in
+him. Another man--and another life with the faith in himself
+gone. He could not be worth much if he was afraid to face that
+woman.
+
+He dared not enter the house through the open door of the
+dining-room, but stood irresolute by the little work-table where
+trailed a white piece of calico, with a needle stuck in it, as if
+the work had been left hurriedly. The pink-crested cockatoo
+started, on his appearance, into clumsy activity and began to
+climb laboriously up and down his perch, calling "Joanna" with
+indistinct loudness and a persistent screech that prolonged the
+last syllable of the name as if in a peal of insane laughter.
+The screen in the doorway moved gently once or twice in the
+breeze, and each time Willems started slightly, expecting his
+wife, but he never lifted his eyes, although straining his ears
+for the sound of her footsteps. Gradually he lost himself in his
+thoughts, in the endless speculation as to the manner in which
+she would receive his news--and his orders. In this
+preoccupationhe almost forgot the fear of her presence. No doubt
+she will cry, she will lament, she will be helpless and
+frightened and passive as ever. And he would have to drag that
+limp weight on and on through the darkness of a spoiled life.
+Horrible! Of course he could not abandon her and the child to
+certain misery or possible starvation. The wife and the child of
+Willems. Willems the successful, the smart; Willems the conf . .
+. . Pah! And what was Willems now? Willems the. . . . He
+strangled the half-born thought, and cleared his throat to stifle
+a groan. Ah! Won't they talk to-night in the billiard-room--his
+world, where he had been first--all those men to whom he had been
+so superciliously condescending. Won't they talk with surprise,
+and affected regret, and grave faces, and wise nods. Some of
+them owed him money, but he never pressed anybody. Not he.
+Willems, the prince of good fellows, they called him. And now
+they will rejoice, no doubt, at his downfall. A crowd of
+imbeciles. In his abasement he was yet aware of his superiority
+over those fellows, who were merely honest or simply not found
+out yet. A crowd of imbeciles! He shook his fist at the evoked
+image of his friends, and the startled parrot fluttered its wings
+and shrieked in desperate fright.
+
+In a short glance upwards Willems saw his wife come round the
+corner of the house. He lowered his eyelids quickly, and waited
+silently till she came near and stood on the other side of the
+little table. He would not look at her face, but he could see
+the red dressing-gown he knew so well. She trailed through life
+in that red dressing-gown, with its row of dirty blue bows down
+the front, stained, and hooked on awry; a torn flounce at the
+bottom following her like a snake as she moved languidly about,
+with her hair negligently caught up, and a tangled wisp
+straggling untidily down her back. His gaze travelled upwards
+from bow to bow, noticing those that hung only by a thread, but
+it did not go beyond her chin. He looked at her lean throat, at
+the obtrusive collarbone visible in the disarray of the upper
+part of her attire. He saw the thin arm and the bony hand
+clasping the child she carried, and he felt an immense distaste
+for those encumbrances of his life. He waited for her to say
+something, but as he felt her eyes rest on him in unbroken
+silence he sighed and began to speak.
+
+It was a hard task. He spoke slowly, lingering amongst the
+memories of this early life in his reluctance to confess that
+this was the end of it and the beginning of a less splendid
+existence. In his conviction of having made her happiness in the
+full satisfaction of all material wants he never doubted for a
+moment that she was ready to keep him company on no matter how
+hard and stony a road. He was not elated by this certitude. He
+had married her to please Hudig, and the greatness of his
+sacrifice ought to have made her happy without any further
+exertion on his part. She had years of glory as Willems' wife,
+and years of comfort, of loyal care, and of such tenderness as
+she deserved. He had guarded her carefully from any bodily hurt;
+and of any other suffering he had no conception. The assertion
+of his superiority was only another benefit conferred on her.
+All this was a matter of course, but he told her all this so as
+to bring vividly before her the greatness of her loss. She was
+so dull of understanding that she would not grasp it else. And
+now it was at an end. They would have to go. Leave this house,
+leave this island, go far away where he was unknown. To the
+English Strait-Settlements perhaps. He would find an opening
+there for his abilities--and juster men to deal with than old
+Hudig. He laughed bitterly.
+
+"You have the money I left at home this morning, Joanna?" he
+asked. "We will want it all now."
+
+As he spoke those words he thought he was a fine fellow. Nothing
+new that. Still, he surpassed there his own expectations. Hang
+it all, there are sacred things in life, after all. The marriage
+tie was one of them, and he was not the man to break it. The
+solidity of his principles caused him great satisfaction, but he
+did not care to look at his wife, for all that. He waited for
+her to speak. Then he would have to console her; tell her not to
+be a crying fool; to get ready to go. Go where? How? When? He
+shook his head. They must leave at once; that was the principal
+thing. He felt a sudden need to hurry up his departure.
+
+"Well, Joanna," he said, a little impatiently---"don't stand
+there in a trance. Do you hear? We must. . . ."
+
+He looked up at his wife, and whatever he was going to add
+remained unspoken. She was staring at him with her big, slanting
+eyes, that seemed to him twice their natural size. The child,
+its dirty little face pressed to its mother's shoulder, was
+sleeping peacefully. The deep silence of the house was not
+broken, but rather accentuated, by the low mutter of the
+cockatoo, now very still on its perch. As Willems was looking at
+Joanna her upper lip was drawn up on one side, giving to her
+melancholy face a vicious expression altogether new to his
+experience. He stepped back in his surprise.
+
+"Oh! You great man!" she said distinctly, but in a voice that
+was hardly above a whisper.
+
+Those words, and still more her tone, stunned him as if somebody
+had fired a gun close to his ear. He stared back at her
+stupidly.
+
+"Oh! you great man!" she repeated slowly, glancing right and left
+as if meditating a sudden escape. "And you think that I am going
+to starve with you. You are nobody now. You think my mamma and
+Leonard would let me go away? And with you! With you," she
+repeated scornfully, raising her voice, which woke up the child
+and caused it to whimper feebly.
+
+"Joanna!" exclaimed Willems.
+
+"Do not speak to me. I have heard what I have waited for all
+these years. You are less than dirt, you that have wiped your
+feet on me. I have waited for this. I am not afraid now. I do
+not want you; do not come near me. Ah-h!" she screamed shrilly,
+as he held out his hand in an entreating gesture--"Ah! Keep off
+me! Keep off me! Keep off!"
+
+She backed away, looking at him with eyes both angry and
+frightened. Willems stared motionless, in dumb amazement at the
+mystery of anger and revolt in the head of his wife. Why? What
+had he ever done to her? This was the day of injustice indeed.
+First Hudig--and now his wife. He felt a terror at this hate
+that had lived stealthily so near him for years. He tried to
+speak, but she shrieked again, and it was like a needle through
+his heart. Again he raised his hand.
+
+"Help!" called Mrs. Willems, in a piercing voice. "Help!"
+
+"Be quiet! You fool!" shouted Willems, trying to drown the noise
+of his wife and child in his own angry accents and rattling
+violently the little zinc table in his exasperation.
+
+From under the house, where there were bathrooms and a tool
+closet, appeared Leonard, a rusty iron bar in his hand. He
+called threateningly from the bottom of the stairs.
+
+"Do not hurt her, Mr. Willems. You are a savage. Not at all
+like we, whites."
+
+"You too!" said the bewildered Willems. "I haven't touched her.
+Is this a madhouse?" He moved towards the stairs, and Leonard
+dropped the bar with a clang and made for the gate of the
+compound. Willems turned back to his wife.
+
+"So you expected this," he said. "It is a conspiracy. Who's that
+sobbing and groaning in the room? Some more of your precious
+family. Hey?"
+
+She was more calm now, and putting hastily the crying child in
+the big chair walked towards him with sudden fearlessness.
+
+"My mother," she said, "my mother who came to defend me from
+you--man from nowhere; a vagabond!"
+
+"You did not call me a vagabond when you hung round my
+neck--before we were married," said Willems, contemptuously.
+
+"You took good care that I should not hang round your neck after
+we were," she answered, clenching her hands, and putting her face
+close to his. "You boasted while I suffered and said nothing.
+What has become of your greatness; of our greatness--you were
+always speaking about? Now I am going to live on the charity of
+your master. Yes. That is true. He sent Leonard to tell me so.
+
+And you will go and boast somewhere else, and starve. So! Ah!
+I can breathe now! This house is mine."
+
+"Enough!" said Willems, slowly, with an arresting gesture.
+
+She leaped back, the fright again in her eyes, snatched up the
+child, pressed it to her breast, and, falling into a chair,
+drummed insanely with her heels on the resounding floor of the
+verandah.
+
+"I shall go," said Willems, steadily. "I thank you. For the
+first time in your life you make me happy. You were a stone
+round my neck; you understand. I did not mean to tell you that
+as long as you lived, but you made me--now. Before I pass this
+gate you shall be gone from my mind. You made it very easy. I
+thank you."
+
+He turned and went down the steps without giving her a glance,
+while she sat upright and quiet, with wide-open eyes, the child
+crying querulously in her arms. At the gate he came suddenly
+upon Leonard, who had been dodging about there and failed to get
+out of the way in time.
+
+"Do not be brutal, Mr. Willems," said Leonard, hurriedly. "It is
+unbecoming between white men with all those natives looking on."
+Leonard's legs trembled very much, and his voice wavered between
+high and low tones without any attempt at control on his part.
+"Restrain your improper violence," he went on mumbling rapidly.
+"I am a respectable man of very good family, while you . . . it
+is regrettable . . . they all say so . . ."
+
+"What?" thundered Willems. He felt a sudden impulse of mad
+anger, and before he knew what had happened he was looking at
+Leonard da Souza rolling in the dust at his feet. He stepped
+over his prostrate brother-in-law and tore blindly down the
+street, everybody making way for the frantic white man.
+
+When he came to himself he was beyond the outskirts of the town,
+stumbling on the hard and cracked earth of reaped rice fields.
+How did he get there? It was dark. He must get back. As he
+walked towards the town slowly, his mind reviewed the events of
+the day and he felt a sense of bitter loneliness. His wife had
+turned him out of his own house. He had assaulted brutally his
+brother-in-law, a member of the Da Souza family--of that band of
+his worshippers. He did. Well, no! It was some other man.
+Another man was coming back. A man without a past, without a
+future, yet full of pain and shame and anger. He stopped and
+looked round. A dog or two glided across the empty street and
+rushed past him with a frightened snarl. He was now in the midst
+of the Malay quarter whose bamboo houses, hidden in the verdure
+of their little gardens, were dark and silent. Men, women and
+children slept in there. Human beings. Would he ever sleep, and
+where? He felt as if he was the outcast of all mankind, and as
+he looked hopelessly round, before resuming his weary march, it
+seemed to him that the world was bigger, the night more vast and
+more black; but he went on doggedly with his head down as if
+pushing his way through some thick brambles. Then suddenly he
+felt planks under his feet and, looking up, saw the red light at
+the end of the jetty. He walked quite to the end and stood
+leaning against the post, under the lamp, looking at the
+roadstead where two vessels at anchor swayed their slender
+rigging amongst the stars. The end of the jetty; and here in one
+step more the end of life; the end of everything. Better so.
+What else could he do? Nothing ever comes back. He saw it
+clearly. The respect and admiration of them all, the old habits
+and old affections finished abruptly in the clear perception of
+the cause of his disgrace. He saw all this; and for a time he
+came out of himself, out of his selfishness--out of the constant
+preoccupation of his interests and his desires--out of the temple
+of self and the concentration of personal thought.
+
+His thoughts now wandered home. Standing in the tepid stillness
+of a starry tropical night he felt the breath of the bitter east
+wind, he saw the high and narrow fronts of tall houses under the
+gloom of a clouded sky; and on muddy quays he saw the shabby,
+high-shouldered figure--the patient, faded face of the weary man
+earning bread for the children that waited for him in a dingy
+home. It was miserable, miserable. But it would never come
+back. What was there in common between those things and Willems
+the clever, Willems the successful. He had cut himself adrift
+from that home many years ago. Better for him then. Better for
+them now. All this was gone, never to come back again; and
+suddenly he shivered, seeing himself alone in the presence of
+unknown and terrible dangers.
+
+For the first time in his life he felt afraid of the future,
+because he had lost his faith, the faith in his own success. And
+he had destroyed it foolishly with his own hands!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+
+His meditation which resembled slow drifting into suicide was
+interrupted by Lingard, who, with a loud "I've got you at last!"
+dropped his hand heavily on Willems' shoulder. This time it was
+the old seaman himself going out of his way to pick up the
+uninteresting waif--all that there was left of that sudden and
+sordid shipwreck. To Willems, the rough, friendly voice was a
+quick and fleeting relief followed by a sharper pang of anger and
+unavailing regret. That voice carried him back to the beginning
+of his promising career, the end of which was very visible now
+from the jetty where they both stood. He shook himself free from
+the friendly grasp, saying with ready bitterness--
+
+"It's all your fault. Give me a push now, do, and send me over.
+I have been standing here waiting for help. You are the man--of
+all men. You helped at the beginning; you ought to have a hand
+in the end."
+
+"I have better use for you than to throw you to the fishes," said
+Lingard, seriously, taking Willems by the arm and forcing him
+gently to walk up the jetty. "I have been buzzing over this town
+like a bluebottle fly, looking for you high and low. I have
+heard a lot. I will tell you what, Willems; you are no saint,
+that's a fact. And you have not been over-wise either. I am not
+throwing stones," he added, hastily, as Willems made an effort to
+get away, "but I am not going to mince matters. Never could!
+You keep quiet while I talk. Can't you?"
+
+With a gesture of resignation and a half-stifled groan Willems
+submitted to the stronger will, and the two men paced slowly up
+and down the resounding planks, while Lingard disclosed to
+Willems the exact manner of his undoing. After the first shock
+Willems lost the faculty of surprise in the over-powering feeling
+of indignation. So it was Vinck and Leonard who had served him
+so. They had watched him, tracked his misdeeds, reported them to
+Hudig. They had bribed obscure Chinamen, wormed out confidences
+from tipsy skippers, got at various boatmen, and had pieced out
+in that way the story of his irregularities. The blackness of
+this dark intrigue filled him with horror. He could understand
+Vinck. There was no love lost between them. But Leonard!
+Leonard!
+
+"Why, Captain Lingard," he burst out, "the fellow licked my
+boots."
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," said Lingard, testily, "we know that, and you
+did your best to cram your boot down his throat. No man likes
+that, my boy."
+
+"I was always giving money to all that hungry lot," went on
+Willems, passionately. "Always my hand in my pocket. They never
+had to ask twice."
+
+"Just so. Your generosity frightened them. They asked
+themselves where all that came from, and concluded that it was
+safer to throw you overboard. After all, Hudig is a much greater
+man than you, my friend, and they have a claim on him also."
+
+"What do you mean, Captain Lingard?"
+
+"What do I mean?" repeated Lingard, slowly. "Why, you are not
+going to make me believe you did not know your wife was Hudig's
+daughter. Come now!"
+
+Willems stopped suddenly and swayed about.
+
+"Ah! I understand," he gasped. "I never heard . . . Lately I
+thought there was . . . But no, I never guessed."
+
+"Oh, you simpleton!" said Lingard, pityingly. "'Pon my word," he
+muttered to himself, "I don't believe the fellow knew. Well!
+well! Steady now. Pull yourself together. What's wrong there.
+She is a good wife to you."
+
+"Excellent wife," said Willems, in a dreary voice, looking far
+over the black and scintillating water.
+
+"Very well then," went on Lingard, with increasing friendliness.
+"Nothing wrong there. But did you really think that Hudig was
+marrying you off and giving you a house and I don't know what,
+out of love for you?"
+
+"I had served him well," answered Willems. "How well, you know
+yourself--through thick and thin. No matter what work and what
+risk, I was always there; always ready."
+
+How well he saw the greatness of his work and the immensity of
+that injustice which was his reward. She was that man's daughter!
+
+In the light of this disclosure the facts of the last five years
+of his life stood clearly revealed in their full meaning. He had
+spoken first to Joanna at the gate of their dwelling as he went
+to his work in the brilliant flush of the early morning, when
+women and flowers are charming even to the dullest eyes. A most
+respectable family--two women and a young man--were his next-door
+neighbours. Nobody ever came to their little house but the
+priest, a native from the Spanish islands, now and then. The
+young man Leonard he had met in town, and was flattered by the
+little fellow's immense respect for the great Willems. He let
+him bring chairs, call the waiters, chalk his cues when playing
+billiards, express his admiration in choice words. He even
+condescended to listen patiently to Leonard's allusions to "our
+beloved father," a man of official position, a government agent
+in Koti, where he died of cholera, alas! a victim to duty, like a
+good Catholic, and a good man. It sounded very respectable, and
+Willems approved of those feeling references. Moreover, he
+prided himself upon having no colour-prejudices and no racial
+antipathies. He consented to drink curacoa one afternoon on the
+verandah of Mrs. da Souza's house. He remembered Joanna that
+day, swinging in a hammock. She was untidy even then, he
+remembered, and that was the only impression he carried away from
+that visit. He had no time for love in those glorious days, no
+time even for a passing fancy, but gradually he fell into the
+habit of calling almost every day at that little house where he
+was greeted by Mrs. da Souza's shrill voice screaming for Joanna
+to come and entertain the gentleman from Hudig & Co. And then
+the sudden and unexpected visit of the priest. He remembered the
+man's flat, yellow face, his thin legs, his propitiatory smile,
+his beaming black eyes, his conciliating manner, his veiled hints
+which he did not understand at the time. How he wondered what
+the man wanted, and how unceremoniously he got rid of him. And
+then came vividly into his recollection the morning when he met
+again that fellow coming out of Hudig's office, and how he was
+amused at the incongruous visit. And that morning with Hudig!
+Would he ever forget it? Would he ever forget his surprise as
+the master, instead of plunging at once into business, looked at
+him thoughtfully before turning, with a furtive smile, to the
+papers on the desk? He could hear him now, his nose in the paper
+before him, dropping astonishing words in the intervals of wheezy
+breathing.
+
+"Heard said . . . called there often . . . most respectable
+ladies . . . knew the father very well . . . estimable . . . best
+thing for a young man . . . settle down. . . . Personally, very
+glad to hear . . . thing arranged. . . . Suitable recognition of
+valuable services. . . . Best thing--best thing to do."
+
+And he believed! What credulity! What an ass! Hudig knew the
+father! Rather. And so did everybody else probably; all except
+himself. How proud he had been of Hudig's benevolent interest in
+his fate! How proud he was when invited by Hudig to stay with
+him at his little house in the country--where he could meet men,
+men of official position--as a friend. Vinck had been green with
+envy. Oh, yes! He had believed in the best thing, and took the
+girl like a gift of fortune. How he boasted to Hudig of being
+free from prejudices. The old scoundrel must have been laughing
+in his sleeve at his fool of a confidential clerk. He took the
+girl, guessing nothing. How could he? There had been a father
+of some kind to the common knowledge. Men knew him; spoke about
+him. A lank man of hopelessly mixed descent, but
+otherwise--apparently--unobjectionable. The shady relations came
+out afterward, but--with his freedom from prejudices--he did not
+mind them, because, with their humble dependence, they completed
+his triumphant life. Taken in! taken in! Hudig had found an
+easy way to provide for the begging crowd. He had shifted the
+burden of his youthful vagaries on to the shoulders of his
+confidential clerk; and while he worked for the master, the
+master had cheated him; had stolen his very self from him. He
+was married. He belonged to that woman, no matter what she might
+do! . . . Had sworn . . . for all life! . . . Thrown himself
+away. . . . And that man dared this very morning call him a
+thief! Damnation!
+
+"Let go, Lingard!" he shouted, trying to get away by a sudden
+jerk from the watchful old seaman. "Let me go and kill that . .
+."
+
+"No you don't!" panted Lingard, hanging on manfully. "You want
+to kill, do you? You lunatic. Ah!--I've got you now! Be quiet,
+I say!"
+
+They struggled violently, Lingard forcing Willems slowly towards
+the guard-rail. Under their feet the jetty sounded like a drum
+in the quiet night. On the shore end the native caretaker of the
+wharf watched the combat, squatting behind the safe shelter of
+some big cases. The next day he informed his friends, with calm
+satisfaction, that two drunken white men had fought on the jetty.
+
+It had been a great fight. They fought without arms, like wild
+beasts, after the manner of white men. No! nobody was killed, or
+there would have been trouble and a report to make. How could he
+know why they fought? White men have no reason when they are
+like that.
+
+Just as Lingard was beginning to fear that he would be unable to
+restrain much longer the violence of the younger man, he felt
+Willems' muscles relaxing, and took advantage of this opportunity
+to pin him, by a last effort, to the rail. They both panted
+heavily, speechless, their faces very close.
+
+"All right," muttered Willems at last. "Don't break my back over
+this infernal rail. I will be quiet."
+
+"Now you are reasonable," said Lingard, much relieved. "What
+made you fly into that passion?" he asked, leading him back to
+the end of the jetty, and, still holding him prudently with one
+hand, he fumbled with the other for his whistle and blew a shrill
+and prolonged blast. Over the smooth water of the roadstead came
+in answer a faint cry from one of the ships at anchor.
+
+"My boat will be here directly," said Lingard. "Think of what
+you are going to do. I sail to-night."
+
+"What is there for me to do, except one thing?" said Willems,
+gloomily.
+
+"Look here," said Lingard; "I picked you up as a boy, and
+consider myself responsible for you in a way. You took your life
+into your own hands many years ago--but still . . ."
+
+He paused, listening, till he heard the regular grind of the oars
+in the rowlocks of the approaching boat then went on again.
+
+ "I have made it all right with Hudig. You owe him nothing now.
+Go back to your wife. She is a good woman. Go back to her."
+
+"Why, Captain Lingard," exclaimed Willems, "she . . ."
+
+"It was most affecting," went on Lingard, without heeding him.
+"I went to your house to look for you and there I saw her
+despair. It was heart-breaking. She called for you; she
+entreated me to find you. She spoke wildly, poor woman, as if
+all this was her fault."
+
+Willems listened amazed. The blind old idiot! How queerly he
+misunderstood! But if it was true, if it was even true, the very
+idea of seeing her filled his soul with intense loathing. He did
+not break his oath, but he would not go back to her. Let hers be
+the sin of that separation; of the sacred bond broken. He
+revelled in the extreme purity of his heart, and he would not go
+back to her. Let her come back to him. He had the comfortable
+conviction that he would never see her again, and that through
+her own fault only. In this conviction he told himself solemnly
+that if she would come to him he would receive her with generous
+forgiveness, because such was the praiseworthy solidity of his
+principles. But he hesitated whether he would or would not
+disclose to Lingard the revolting completeness of his
+humiliation. Turned out of his house--and by his wife; that
+woman who hardly dared to breathe in his presence, yesterday. He
+remained perplexed and silent. No. He lacked the courage to
+tell the ignoble story.
+
+As the boat of the brig appeared suddenly on the black water
+close to the jetty, Lingard broke the painful silence.
+
+"I always thought," he said, sadly, "I always thought you were
+somewhat heartless, Willems, and apt to cast adrift those that
+thought most of you. I appeal to what is best in you; do not
+abandon that woman."
+
+"I have not abandoned her," answered Willems, quickly, with
+conscious truthfulness. "Why should I? As you so justly
+observed, she has been a good wife to me. A very good, quiet,
+obedient, loving wife, and I love her as much as she loves me.
+Every bit. But as to going back now, to that place where I . . .
+To walk again amongst those men who yesterday were ready to crawl
+before me, and then feel on my back the sting of their pitying or
+satisfied smiles--no! I can't. I would rather hide from them at
+the bottom of the sea," he went on, with resolute energy. "I
+don't think, Captain Lingard," he added, more quietly, "I don't
+think that you realize what my position was there."
+
+In a wide sweep of his hand he took in the sleeping shore from
+north to south, as if wishing it a proud and threatening
+good-bye. For a short moment he forgot his downfall in the
+recollection of his brilliant triumphs. Amongst the men of his
+class and occupation who slept in those dark houses he had been
+indeed the first.
+
+"It is hard," muttered Lingard, pensively. "But whose the fault?
+
+Whose the fault?"
+
+"Captain Lingard!" cried Willems, under the sudden impulse of a
+felicitous inspiration, "if you leave me here on this jetty--it's
+murder. I shall never return to that place alive, wife or no
+wife. You may just as well cut my throat at once."
+
+The old seaman started.
+
+"Don't try to frighten me, Willems," he said, with great
+severity, and paused.
+
+Above the accents of Willems' brazen despair he heard, with
+considerable uneasiness, the whisper of his own absurd
+conscience. He meditated for awhile with an irresolute air.
+
+"I could tell you to go and drown yourself, and be damned to
+you," he said, with an unsuccessful assumption of brutality in
+his manner, "but I won't. We are responsible for one
+another--worse luck. I am almost ashamed of myself, but I can
+understand your dirty pride. I can! By . . ."
+
+He broke off with a loud sigh and walked briskly to the steps, at
+the bottom of which lay his boat, rising and falling gently on
+the slight and invisible swell.
+
+"Below there! Got a lamp in the boat? Well, light it and bring
+it up, one of you. Hurry now!"
+
+He tore out a page of his pocketbook, moistened his pencil with
+great energy and waited, stamping his feet impatiently.
+
+"I will see this thing through," he muttered to himself. "And I
+will have it all square and ship-shape; see if I don't! Are you
+going to bring that lamp, you son of a crippled mud-turtle? I am
+waiting."
+
+The gleam of the light on the paper placated his professional
+anger, and he wrote rapidly, the final dash of his signature
+curling the paper up in a triangular tear.
+
+"Take that to this white Tuan's house. I will send the boat back
+for you in half an hour."
+
+The coxswain raised his lamp deliberately to Willem's face.
+
+"This Tuan? Tau! I know."
+
+"Quick then!" said Lingard, taking the lamp from him--and the man
+went off at a run.
+
+"Kassi mem! To the lady herself," called Lingard after him.
+
+Then, when the man disappeared, he turned to Willems.
+
+"I have written to your wife," he said. "If you do not return
+for good, you do not go back to that house only for another
+parting. You must come as you stand. I won't have that poor
+woman tormented. I will see to it that you are not separated for
+long. Trust me!"
+
+Willems shivered, then smiled in the darkness.
+
+"No fear of that," he muttered, enigmatically. "I trust you
+implicitly, Captain Lingard," he added, in a louder tone.
+
+Lingard led the way down the steps, swinging the lamp and
+speaking over his shoulder.
+
+"It is the second time, Willems, I take you in hand. Mind it is
+the last. The second time; and the only difference between then
+and now is that you were bare-footed then and have boots now. In
+fourteen years. With all your smartness! A poor result that. A
+very poor result."
+
+He stood for awhile on the lowest platform of the steps, the
+light of the lamp falling on the upturned face of the stroke oar,
+who held the gunwale of the boat close alongside, ready for the
+captain to step in.
+
+"You see," he went on, argumentatively, fumbling about the top of
+the lamp, "you got yourself so crooked amongst those 'longshore
+quill-drivers that you could not run clear in any way. That's
+what comes of such talk as yours, and of such a life. A man sees
+so much falsehood that he begins to lie to himself. Pah!" he
+said, in disgust, "there's only one place for an honest man. The
+sea, my boy, the sea! But you never would; didn't think there
+was enough money in it; and now--look!"
+
+He blew the light out, and, stepping into the boat, stretched
+quickly his hand towards Willems, with friendly care. Willems
+sat by him in silence, and the boat shoved off, sweeping in a
+wide circle towards the brig.
+
+"Your compassion is all for my wife, Captain Lingard," said
+Willems, moodily. "Do you think I am so very happy?"
+
+"No! no!" said Lingard, heartily. "Not a word more shall pass my
+lips. I had to speak my mind once, seeing that I knew you from a
+child, so to speak. And now I shall forget; but you are young
+yet. Life is very long," he went on, with unconscious sadness;
+"let this be a lesson to you."
+
+He laid his hand affectionately on Willems' shoulder, and they
+both sat silent till the boat came alongside the ship's ladder.
+
+When on board Lingard gave orders to his mate, and leading
+Willems on the poop, sat on the breech of one of the brass
+six-pounders with which his vessel was armed. The boat went off
+again to bring back the messenger. As soon as it was seen
+returning dark forms appeared on the brig's spars; then the sails
+fell in festoons with a swish of their heavy folds, and hung
+motionless under the yards in the dead calm of the clear and dewy
+night. From the forward end came the clink of the windlass, and
+soon afterwards the hail of the chief mate informing Lingard that
+the cable was hove short.
+
+"Hold on everything," hailed back Lingard; "we must wait for the
+land-breeze before we let go our hold of the ground."
+
+He approached Willems, who sat on the skylight, his body bent
+down, his head low, and his hands hanging listlessly between his
+knees.
+
+"I am going to take you to Sambir," he said. "You've never heard
+of the place, have you? Well, it's up that river of mine about
+which people talk so much and know so little. I've found out the
+entrance for a ship of Flash's size. It isn't easy. You'll see.
+
+I will show you. You have been at sea long enough to take an
+interest. . . . Pity you didn't stick to it. Well, I am going
+there. I have my own trading post in the place. Almayer is my
+partner. You knew him when he was at Hudig's. Oh, he lives
+there as happy as a king. D'ye see, I have them all in my
+pocket. The rajah is an old friend of mine. My word is law--and
+I am the only trader. No other white man but Almayer had ever
+been in that settlement. You will live quietly there till I come
+back from my next cruise to the westward. We shall see then what
+can be done for you. Never fear. I have no doubt my secret will
+be safe with you. Keep mum about my river when you get amongst
+the traders again. There's many would give their ears for the
+knowledge of it. I'll tell you something: that's where I get all
+my guttah and rattans. Simply inexhaustible, my boy."
+
+While Lingard spoke Willems looked up quickly, but soon his head
+fell on his breast in the discouraging certitude that the
+knowledge he and Hudig had wished for so much had come to him too
+late. He sat in a listless attitude.
+
+"You will help Almayer in his trading if you have a heart for
+it," continued Lingard, "just to kill time till I come back for
+you. Only six weeks or so."
+
+Over their heads the damp sails fluttered noisily in the first
+faint puff of the breeze; then, as the airs freshened, the brig
+tended to the wind, and the silenced canvas lay quietly aback.
+The mate spoke with low distinctness from the shadows of the
+quarter-deck.
+
+"There's the breeze. Which way do you want to cast her, Captain
+Lingard?"
+
+Lingard's eyes, that had been fixed aloft, glanced down at the
+dejected figure of the man sitting on the skylight. He seemed to
+hesitate for a minute.
+
+"To the northward, to the northward," he answered, testily, as if
+annoyed at his own fleeting thought, "and bear a hand there.
+Every puff of wind is worth money in these seas."
+
+He remained motionless, listening to the rattle of blocks and the
+creaking of trusses as the head-yards were hauled round. Sail
+was made on the ship and the windlass manned again while he stood
+still, lost in thought. He only roused himself when a barefooted
+seacannie glided past him silently on his way to the wheel.
+
+"Put the helm aport! Hard over!" he said, in his harsh
+sea-voice, to the man whose face appeared suddenly out of the
+darkness in the circle of light thrown upwards from the binnacle
+lamps.
+
+The anchor was secured, the yards trimmed, and the brig began to
+move out of the roadstead. The sea woke up under the push of the
+sharp cutwater, and whispered softly to the gliding craft in that
+tender and rippling murmur in which it speaks sometimes to those
+it nurses and loves. Lingard stood by the taff-rail listening,
+with a pleased smile till the Flash began to draw close to the
+only other vessel in the anchorage.
+
+"Here, Willems," he said, calling him to his side, "d'ye see that
+barque here? That's an Arab vessel. White men have mostly given
+up the game, but this fellow drops in my wake often, and lives in
+hopes of cutting me out in that settlement. Not while I live, I
+trust. You see, Willems, I brought prosperity to that place. I
+composed their quarrels, and saw them grow under my eyes.
+There's peace and happiness there. I am more master there than
+his Dutch Excellency down in Batavia ever will be when some day a
+lazy man-of-war blunders at last against the river. I mean to
+keep the Arabs out of it, with their lies and their intrigues. I
+shall keep the venomous breed out, if it costs me my fortune."
+
+The Flash drew quietly abreast of the barque, and was beginning
+to drop it astern when a white figure started up on the poop of
+the Arab vessel, and a voice called out--
+
+"Greeting to the Rajah Laut!"
+
+"To you greeting!" answered Lingard, after a moment of hesitating
+surprise. Then he turned to Willems with a grim smile. "That's
+Abdulla's voice," he said. "Mighty civil all of a sudden, isn't
+he? I wonder what it means. Just like his impudence! No
+matter! His civility or his impudence are all one to me. I know
+that this fellow will be under way and after me like a shot. I
+don't care! I have the heels of anything that floats in these
+seas," he added, while his proud and loving glance ran over and
+rested fondly amongst the brig's lofty and graceful spars.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+
+"It was the writing on his forehead," said Babalatchi, adding a
+couple of small sticks to the little fire by which he was
+squatting, and without looking at Lakamba who lay down supported
+on his elbow on the other side of the embers. "It was written
+when he was born that he should end his life in darkness, and now
+he is like a man walking in a black night--with his eyes open,
+yet seeing not. I knew him well when he had slaves, and many
+wives, and much merchandise, and trading praus, and praus for
+fighting. Hai--ya! He was a great fighter in the days before the
+breath of the Merciful put out the light in his eyes. He was a
+pilgrim, and had many virtues: he was brave, his hand was open,
+and he was a great robber. For many years he led the men that
+drank blood on the sea: first in prayer and first in fight! Have
+I not stood behind him when his face was turned to the West?
+Have I not watched by his side ships with high masts burning in a
+straight flame on the calm water? Have I not followed him on
+dark nights amongst sleeping men that woke up only to die? His
+sword was swifter than the fire from Heaven, and struck before it
+flashed. Hai! Tuan! Those were the days and that was a leader,
+and I myself was younger; and in those days there were not so
+many fireships with guns that deal fiery death from afar. Over
+the hill and over the forest--O! Tuan Lakamba! they dropped
+whistling fireballs into the creek where our praus took refuge,
+and where they dared not follow men who had arms in their hands."
+
+He shook his head with mournful regret and threw another handful
+of fuel on the fire. The burst of clear flame lit up his broad,
+dark, and pock-marked face, where the big lips, stained with
+betel-juice, looked like a deep and bleeding gash of a fresh
+wound. The reflection of the firelight gleamed brightly in his
+solitary eye, lending it for a moment a fierce animation that
+died out together with the short-lived flame. With quick touches
+of his bare hands he raked the embers into a heap, then, wiping
+the warm ash on his waistcloth--his only garment--he clasped his
+thin legs with his entwined fingers, and rested his chin on his
+drawn-up knees. Lakamba stirred slightly without changing his
+position or taking his eyes off the glowing coals, on which they
+had been fixed in dreamy immobility.
+
+"Yes," went on Babalatchi, in a low monotone, as if pursuing
+aloud a train of thought that had its beginning in the silent
+contemplation of the unstable nature of earthly greatness--"yes.
+He has been rich and strong, and now he lives on alms: old,
+feeble, blind, and without companions, but for his daughter. The
+Rajah Patalolo gives him rice, and the pale woman--his
+daughter--cooks it for him, for he has no slave."
+
+"I saw her from afar," muttered Lakamba, disparagingly. "A
+she-dog with white teeth, like a woman of the Orang-Putih."
+
+"Right, right," assented Babalatchi; "but you have not seen her
+near. Her mother was a woman from the west; a Baghdadi woman
+with veiled face. Now she goes uncovered, like our women do, for
+she is poor and he is blind, and nobody ever comes near them
+unless to ask for a charm or a blessing and depart quickly for
+fear of his anger and of the Rajah's hand. You have not been on
+that side of the river?"
+
+"Not for a long time. If I go . . ."
+
+"True! true!" interrupted Babalatchi, soothingly, "but I go often
+alone--for your good--and look--and listen. When the time comes;
+when we both go together towards the Rajah's campong, it will be
+to enter--and to remain."
+
+Lakamba sat up and looked at Babalatchi gloomily.
+
+"This is good talk, once, twice; when it is heard too often it
+becomes foolish, like the prattle of children."
+
+"Many, many times have I seen the cloudy sky and have heard the
+wind of the rainy seasons," said Babalatchi, impressively.
+
+"And where is your wisdom? It must be with the wind and the
+clouds of seasons past, for I do not hear it in your talk."
+
+"Those are the words of the ungrateful!" shouted Babalatchi, with
+sudden exasperation. "Verily, our only refuge is with the One,
+the Mighty, the Redresser of . . ."
+
+"Peace! Peace!" growled the startled Lakamba. "It is but a
+friend's talk."
+
+Babalatchi subsided into his former attitude, muttering to
+himself. After awhile he went on again in a louder voice--
+
+"Since the Rajah Laut left another white man here in Sambir, the
+daughter of the blind Omar el Badavi has spoken to other ears
+than mine."
+
+"Would a white man listen to a beggar's daughter?" said Lakamba,
+doubtingly.
+
+"Hai! I have seen . . ."
+
+"And what did you see? O one-eyed one!" exclaimed Lakamba,
+contemptuously.
+
+"I have seen the strange white man walking on the narrow path
+before the sun could dry the drops of dew on the bushes, and I
+have heard the whisper of his voice when he spoke through the
+smoke of the morning fire to that woman with big eyes and a pale
+skin. Woman in body, but in heart a man! She knows no fear and
+no shame. I have heard her voice too."
+
+He nodded twice at Lakamba sagaciously and gave himself up to
+silent musing, his solitary eye fixed immovably upon the straight
+wall of forest on the opposite bank. Lakamba lay silent, staring
+vacantly. Under them Lingard's own river rippled softly amongst
+the piles supporting the bamboo platform of the little
+watch-house before which they were lying. Behind the house the
+ground rose in a gentle swell of a low hill cleared of the big
+timber, but thickly overgrown with the grass and bushes, now
+withered and burnt up in the long drought of the dry season.
+This old rice clearing, which had been several years lying
+fallow, was framed on three sides by the impenetrable and tangled
+growth of the untouched forest, and on the fourth came down to
+the muddy river bank. There was not a breath of wind on the land
+or river, but high above, in the transparent sky, little clouds
+rushed past the moon, now appearing in her diffused rays with the
+brilliance of silver, now obscuring her face with the blackness
+of ebony. Far away, in the middle of the river, a fish would
+leap now and then with a short splash, the very loudness of which
+measured the profundity of the overpowering silence that
+swallowed up the sharp sound suddenly.
+
+Lakamba dozed uneasily off, but the wakeful Babalatchi sat
+thinking deeply, sighing from time to time, and slapping himself
+over his naked torso incessantly in a vain endeavour to keep off
+an occasional and wandering mosquito that, rising as high as the
+platform above the swarms of the riverside, would settle with a
+ping of triumph on the unexpected victim. The moon, pursuing her
+silent and toilsome path, attained her highest elevation, and
+chasing the shadow of the roof-eaves from Lakamba's face, seemed
+to hang arrested over their heads. Babalatchi revived the fire
+and woke up his companion, who sat up yawning and shivering
+discontentedly.
+
+Babalatchi spoke again in a voice which was like the murmur of a
+brook that runs over the stones: low, monotonous, persistent;
+irresistible in its power to wear out and to destroy the hardest
+obstacles. Lakamba listened, silent but interested. They were
+Malay adventurers; ambitious men of that place and time; the
+Bohemians of their race. In the early days of the settlement,
+before the ruler Patalolo had shaken off his allegiance to the
+Sultan of Koti, Lakamba appeared in the river with two small
+trading vessels. He was disappointed to find already some
+semblance of organization amongst the settlers of various races
+who recognized the unobtrusive sway of old Patalolo, and he was
+not politic enough to conceal his disappointment. He declared
+himself to be a man from the east, from those parts where no
+white man ruled, and to be of an oppressed race, but of a
+princely family. And truly enough he had all the gifts of an
+exiled prince. He was discontented, ungrateful, turbulent; a man
+full of envy and ready for intrigue, with brave words and empty
+promises for ever on his lips. He was obstinate, but his will
+was made up of short impulses that never lasted long enough to
+carry him to the goal of his ambition. Received coldly by the
+suspicious Patalolo, he persisted--permission or no
+permission--in clearing the ground on a good spot some fourteen
+miles down the river from Sambir, and built himself a house
+there, which he fortified by a high palisade. As he had many
+followers and seemed very reckless, the old Rajah did not think
+it prudent at the time to interfere with him by force. Once
+settled, he began to intrigue. The quarrel of Patalolo with the
+Sultan of Koti was of his fomenting, but failed to produce the
+result he expected because the Sultan could not back him up
+effectively at such a great distance. Disappointed in that
+scheme, he promptly organized an outbreak of the Bugis settlers,
+and besieged the old Rajah in his stockade with much noisy valour
+and a fair chance of success; but Lingard then appeared on the
+scene with the armed brig, and the old seaman's hairy forefinger,
+shaken menacingly in his face, quelled his martial ardour. No
+man cared to encounter the Rajah Laut, and Lakamba, with
+momentary resignation, subsided into a half-cultivator,
+half-trader, and nursed in his fortified house his wrath and his
+ambition, keeping it for use on a more propitious occasion.
+Still faithful to his character of a prince-pretender, he would
+not recognize the constituted authorities, answering sulkily the
+Rajah's messenger, who claimed the tribute for the cultivated
+fields, that the Rajah had better come and take it himself. By
+Lingard's advice he was left alone, notwithstanding his
+rebellious mood; and for many days he lived undisturbed amongst
+his wives and retainers, cherishing that persistent and causeless
+hope of better times, the possession of which seems to be the
+universal privilege of exiled greatness.
+
+But the passing days brought no change. The hope grew faint and
+the hot ambition burnt itself out, leaving only a feeble and
+expiring spark amongst a heap of dull and tepid ashes of indolent
+acquiescence with the decrees of Fate, till Babalatchi fanned it
+again into a bright flame. Babalatchi had blundered upon the
+river while in search of a safe refuge for his disreputable head.
+
+He was a vagabond of the seas, a true Orang-Laut, living by
+rapine and plunder of coasts and ships in his prosperous days;
+earning his living by honest and irksome toil when the days of
+adversity were upon him. So, although at times leading the Sulu
+rovers, he had also served as Serang of country ships, and in
+that wise had visited the distant seas, beheld the glories of
+Bombay, the might of the Mascati Sultan; had even struggled in a
+pious throng for the privilege of touching with his lips the
+Sacred Stone of the Holy City. He gathered experience and wisdom
+in many lands, and after attaching himself to Omar el Badavi, he
+affected great piety (as became a pilgrim), although unable to
+read the inspired words of the Prophet. He was brave and
+bloodthirsty without any affection, and he hated the white men
+who interfered with the manly pursuits of throat-cutting,
+kidnapping, slave-dealing, and fire-raising, that were the only
+possible occupation for a true man of the sea. He found favour
+in the eyes of his chief, the fearless Omar el Badavi, the leader
+of Brunei rovers, whom he followed with unquestioning loyalty
+through the long years of successful depredation. And when that
+long career of murder, robbery and violence received its first
+serious check at the hands of white men, he stood faithfully by
+his chief, looked steadily at the bursting shells, was undismayed
+by the flames of the burning stronghold, by the death of his
+companions, by the shrieks of their women, the wailing of their
+children; by the sudden ruin and destruction of all that he
+deemed indispensable to a happy and glorious existence. The
+beaten ground between the houses was slippery with blood, and the
+dark mangroves of the muddy creeks were full of sighs of the
+dying men who were stricken down before they could see their
+enemy. They died helplessly, for into the tangled forest there
+was no escape, and their swift praus, in which they had so often
+scoured the coast and the seas, now wedged together in the narrow
+creek, were burning fiercely. Babalatchi, with the clear
+perception of the coming end, devoted all his energies to saving
+if it was but only one of them. He succeeded in time. When the
+end came in the explosion of the stored powder-barrels, he was
+ready to look for his chief. He found him half dead and totally
+blinded, with nobody near him but his daughter Aissa:--the sons
+had fallen earlier in the day, as became men of their courage.
+Helped by the girl with the steadfast heart, Babalatchi carried
+Omar on board the light prau and succeeded in escaping, but with
+very few companions only. As they hauled their craft into the
+network of dark and silent creeks, they could hear the cheering
+of the crews of the man-of-war's boats dashing to the attack of
+the rover's village. Aissa, sitting on the high after-deck, her
+father's blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked up with
+fearless eyes at Babalatchi. "They shall find only smoke, blood
+and dead men, and women mad with fear there, but nothing else
+living," she said, mournfully. Babalatchi, pressing with his
+right hand the deep gash on his shoulder, answered sadly: "They
+are very strong. When we fight with them we can only die. Yet,"
+he added, menacingly--"some of us still live! Some of us still
+live!"
+
+For a short time he dreamed of vengeance, but his dream was
+dispelled by the cold reception of the Sultan of Sulu, with whom
+they sought refuge at first and who gave them only a contemptuous
+and grudging hospitality. While Omar, nursed by Aissa, was
+recovering from his wounds, Babalatchi attended industriously
+before the exalted Presence that had extended to them the hand of
+Protection. For all that, when Babalatchi spoke into the
+Sultan's ear certain proposals of a great and profitable raid,
+that was to sweep the islands from Ternate to Acheen, the Sultan
+was very angry. "I know you, you men from the west," he
+exclaimed, angrily. "Your words are poison in a Ruler's ears.
+Your talk is of fire and murder and booty--but on our heads falls
+the vengeance of the blood you drink. Begone!"
+
+There was nothing to be done. Times were changed. So changed
+that, when a Spanish frigate appeared before the island and a
+demand was sent to the Sultan to deliver Omar and his companions,
+Babalatchi was not surprised to hear that they were going to be
+made the victims of political expediency. But from that sane
+appreciation of danger to tame submission was a very long step.
+And then began Omar's second flight. It began arms in hand, for
+the little band had to fight in the night on the beach for the
+possession of the small canoes in which those that survived got
+away at last. The story of that escape lives in the hearts of
+brave men even to this day. They talk of Babalatchi and of the
+strong woman who carried her blind father through the surf under
+the fire of the warship from the north. The companions of that
+piratical and son-less Aeneas are dead now, but their ghosts
+wander over the waters and the islands at night--after the manner
+of ghosts--and haunt the fires by which sit armed men, as is meet
+for the spirits of fearless warriors who died in battle. There
+they may hear the story of their own deeds, of their own courage,
+suffering and death, on the lips of living men. That story is
+told in many places. On the cool mats in breezy verandahs of
+Rajahs' houses it is alluded to disdainfully by impassive
+statesmen, but amongst armed men that throng the courtyards it is
+a tale which stills the murmur of voices and the tinkle of
+anklets; arrests the passage of the siri-vessel, and fixes the
+eyes in absorbed gaze. They talk of the fight, of the fearless
+woman, of the wise man; of long suffering on the thirsty sea in
+leaky canoes; of those who died. . . . Many died. A few
+survived. The chief, the woman, and another one who became
+great.
+
+There was no hint of incipient greatness in Babalatchi's
+unostentatious arrival in Sambir. He came with Omar and Aissa in
+a small prau loaded with green cocoanuts, and claimed the
+ownership of both vessel and cargo. How it came to pass that
+Babalatchi, fleeing for his life in a small canoe, managed to end
+his hazardous journey in a vessel full of a valuable commodity,
+is one of those secrets of the sea that baffle the most searching
+inquiry. In truth nobody inquired much. There were rumours of a
+missing trading prau belonging to Menado, but they were vague and
+remained mysterious. Babalatchi told a story which--it must be
+said in justice to Patalolo's knowledge of the world--was not
+believed. When the Rajah ventured to state his doubts,
+Babalatchi asked him in tones of calm remonstrance whether he
+could reasonably suppose that two oldish men--who had only one
+eye amongst them--and a young woman were likely to gain
+possession of anything whatever by violence? Charity was a
+virtue recommended by the Prophet. There were charitable people,
+and their hand was open to the deserving. Patalolo wagged his
+aged head doubtingly, and Babalatchi withdrew with a shocked mien
+and put himself forthwith under Lakamba's protection. The two
+men who completed the prau's crew followed him into that
+magnate's campong. The blind Omar, with Aissa, remained under
+the care of the Rajah, and the Rajah confiscated the cargo. The
+prau hauled up on the mud-bank, at the junction of the two
+branches of the Pantai, rotted in the rain, warped in the sun,
+fell to pieces and gradually vanished into the smoke of household
+fires of the settlement. Only a forgotten plank and a rib or
+two, sticking neglected in the shiny ooze for a long time, served
+to remind Babalatchi during many months that he was a stranger in
+the land.
+
+Otherwise, he felt perfectly at home in Lakamba's establishment,
+where his peculiar position and influence were quickly recognized
+and soon submitted to even by the women. He had all a true
+vagabond's pliability to circumstances and adaptiveness to
+momentary surroundings. In his readiness to learn from
+experience that contempt for early principles so necessary to a
+true statesman, he equalled the most successful politicians of
+any age; and he had enough persuasiveness and firmness of purpose
+to acquire a complete mastery over Lakamba's vacillating
+mind--where there was nothing stable but an all-pervading
+discontent. He kept the discontent alive, he rekindled the
+expiring ambition, he moderated the poor exile's not unnatural
+impatience to attain a high and lucrative position. He--the man
+of violence--deprecated the use of force, for he had a clear
+comprehension of the difficult situation. From the same cause,
+he--the hater of white men--would to some extent admit the
+eventual expediency of Dutch protection. But nothing should be
+done in a hurry. Whatever his master Lakamba might think, there
+was no use in poisoning old Patalolo, he maintained. It could be
+done, of course; but what then? As long as Lingard's influence
+was paramount--as long as Almayer, Lingard's representative, was
+the only great trader of the settlement, it was not worth
+Lakamba's while--even if it had been possible--to grasp the rule
+of the young state. Killing Almayer and Lingard was so difficult
+and so risky that it might be dismissed as impracticable. What
+was wanted was an alliance; somebody to set up against the white
+men's influence--and somebody who, while favourable to Lakamba,
+would at the same time be a person of a good standing with the
+Dutch authorities. A rich and considered trader was wanted.
+Such a person once firmly established in Sambir would help them
+to oust the old Rajah, to remove him from power or from life if
+there was no other way. Then it would be time to apply to the
+Orang Blanda for a flag; for a recognition of their meritorious
+services; for that protection which would make them safe for
+ever! The word of a rich and loyal trader would mean something
+with the Ruler down in Batavia. The first thing to do was to
+find such an ally and to induce him to settle in Sambir. A white
+trader would not do. A white man would not fall in with their
+ideas--would not be trustworthy. The man they wanted should be
+rich, unscrupulous, have many followers, and be a well-known
+personality in the islands. Such a man might be found amongst
+the Arab traders. Lingard's jealousy, said Babalatchi, kept all
+the traders out of the river. Some were afraid, and some did not
+know how to get there; others ignored the very existence of
+Sambir; a good many did not think it worth their while to run the
+risk of Lingard's enmity for the doubtful advantage of trade with
+a comparatively unknown settlement. The great majority were
+undesirable or untrustworthy. And Babalatchi mentioned
+regretfully the men he had known in his young days: wealthy,
+resolute, courageous, reckless, ready for any enterprise! But
+why lament the past and speak about the dead? There is one
+man--living--great--not far off . . .
+
+Such was Babalatchi's line of policy laid before his ambitious
+protector. Lakamba assented, his only objection being that it
+was very slow work. In his extreme desire to grasp dollars and
+power, the unintellectual exile was ready to throw himself into
+the arms of any wandering cut-throat whose help could be secured,
+and Babalatchi experienced great difficulty in restraining him
+from unconsidered violence. It would not do to let it be seen
+that they had any hand in introducing a new element into the
+social and political life of Sambir. There was always a
+possibility of failure, and in that case Lingard's vengeance
+would be swift and certain. No risk should be run. They must
+wait.
+
+Meantime he pervaded the settlement, squatting in the course of
+each day by many household fires, testing the public temper and
+public opinion--and always talking about his impending departure.
+
+At night he would often take Lakamba's smallest canoe and depart
+silently to pay mysterious visits to his old chief on the other
+side of the river. Omar lived in odour of sanctity under the
+wing of Patalolo. Between the bamboo fence, enclosing the houses
+of the Rajah, and the wild forest, there was a banana plantation,
+and on its further edge stood two little houses built on low
+piles under a few precious fruit trees that grew on the banks of
+a clear brook, which, bubbling up behind the house, ran in its
+short and rapid course down to the big river. Along the brook a
+narrow path led through the dense second growth of a neglected
+clearing to the banana plantation and to the houses in it which
+the Rajah had given for residence to Omar. The Rajah was greatly
+impressed by Omar's ostentatious piety, by his oracular wisdom,
+by his many misfortunes, by the solemn fortitude with which he
+bore his affliction. Often the old ruler of Sambir would visit
+informally the blind Arab and listen gravely to his talk during
+the hot hours of an afternoon. In the night, Babalatchi would
+call and interrupt Omar's repose, unrebuked. Aissa, standing
+silently at the door of one of the huts, could see the two old
+friends as they sat very still by the fire in the middle of the
+beaten ground between the two houses, talking in an indistinct
+murmur far into the night. She could not hear their words, but
+she watched the two formless shadows curiously. Finally
+Babalatchi would rise and, taking her father by the wrist, would
+lead him back to the house, arrange his mats for him, and go out
+quietly. Instead of going away, Babalatchi, unconscious of
+Aissa's eyes, often sat again by the fire, in a long and deep
+meditation. Aissa looked with respect on that wise and brave
+man--she was accustomed to see at her father's side as long as
+she could remember--sitting alone and thoughtful in the silent
+night by the dying fire, his body motionless and his mind
+wandering in the land of memories, or--who knows?--perhaps
+groping for a road in the waste spaces of the uncertain future.
+
+Babalatchi noted the arrival of Willems with alarm at this new
+accession to the white men's strength. Afterwards he changed his
+opinion. He met Willems one night on the path leading to Omar's
+house, and noticed later on, with only a moderate surprise, that
+the blind Arab did not seem to be aware of the new white man's
+visits to the neighbourhood of his dwelling. Once, coming
+unexpectedly in the daytime, Babalatchi fancied he could see the
+gleam of a white jacket in the bushes on the other side of the
+brook. That day he watched Aissa pensively as she moved about
+preparing the evening rice; but after awhile he went hurriedly
+away before sunset, refusing Omar's hospitable invitation, in the
+name of Allah, to share their meal. That same evening he
+startled Lakamba by announcing that the time had come at last to
+make the first move in their long-deferred game. Lakamba asked
+excitedly for explanation. Babalatchi shook his head and pointed
+to the flitting shadows of moving women and to the vague forms of
+men sitting by the evening fires in the courtyard. Not a word
+would he speak here, he declared. But when the whole household
+was reposing, Babalatchi and Lakamba passed silent amongst
+sleeping groups to the riverside, and, taking a canoe, paddled
+off stealthily on their way to the dilapidated guard-hut in the
+old rice-clearing. There they were safe from all eyes and ears,
+and could account, if need be, for their excursion by the wish to
+kill a deer, the spot being well known as the drinking-place of
+all kinds of game. In the seclusion of its quiet solitude
+Babalatchi explained his plan to the attentive Lakamba. His idea
+was to make use of Willems for the destruction of Lingard's
+influence.
+
+"I know the white men, Tuan," he said, in conclusion. "In many
+lands have I seen them; always the slaves of their desires,
+always ready to give up their strength and their reason into the
+hands of some woman. The fate of the Believers is written by the
+hand of the Mighty One, but they who worship many gods are thrown
+into the world with smooth foreheads, for any woman's hand to
+mark their destruction there. Let one white man destroy another.
+
+The will of the Most High is that they should be fools. They
+know how to keep faith with their enemies, but towards each other
+they know only deception. Hai! I have seen! I have seen!"
+
+He stretched himself full length before the fire, and closed his
+eye in real or simulated sleep. Lakamba, not quite convinced,
+sat for a long time with his gaze riveted on the dull embers. As
+the night advanced, a slight white mist rose from the river, and
+the declining moon, bowed over the tops of the forest, seemed to
+seek the repose of the earth, like a wayward and wandering lover
+who returns at last to lay his tired and silent head on his
+beloved's breast.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX
+
+
+"Lend me your gun, Almayer," said Willems, across the table on
+which a smoky lamp shone redly above the disorder of a finished
+meal. "I have a mind to go and look for a deer when the moon
+rises to-night."
+
+Almayer, sitting sidewise to the table, his elbow pushed amongst
+the dirty plates, his chin on his breast and his legs stretched
+stiffly out, kept his eyes steadily on the toes of his grass
+slippers and laughed abruptly.
+
+"You might say yes or no instead of making that unpleasant
+noise," remarked Willems, with calm irritation.
+
+"If I believed one word of what you say, I would," answered
+Almayer without changing his attitude and speaking slowly, with
+pauses, as if dropping his words on the floor. "As it is--what's
+the use? You know where the gun is; you may take it or leave it.
+
+Gun. Deer. Bosh! Hunt deer! Pah! It's a . . . gazelle you
+are
+after, my honoured guest. You want gold anklets and silk sarongs
+for that game--my mighty hunter. And you won't get those for the
+asking, I promise you. All day amongst the natives. A fine help
+you are to me."
+
+"You shouldn't drink so much, Almayer," said Willems, disguising
+his fury under an affected drawl. "You have no head. Never had,
+as far as I can remember, in the old days in Macassar. You drink
+too much."
+
+"I drink my own," retorted Almayer, lifting his head quickly and
+darting an angry glance at Willems.
+
+Those two specimens of the superior race glared at each other
+savagely for a minute, then turned away their heads at the same
+moment as if by previous arrangement, and both got up. Almayer
+kicked off his slippers and scrambled into his hammock, which
+hung between two wooden columns of the verandah so as to catch
+every rare breeze of the dry season, and Willems, after standing
+irresolutely by the table for a short time, walked without a word
+down the steps of the house and over the courtyard towards the
+little wooden jetty, where several small canoes and a couple of
+big white whale-boats were made fast, tugging at their short
+painters and bumping together in the swift current of the river.
+He jumped into the smallest canoe, balancing himself clumsily,
+slipped the rattan painter, and gave an unnecessary and violent
+shove, which nearly sent him headlong overboard. By the time he
+regained his balance the canoe had drifted some fifty yards down
+the river. He knelt in the bottom of his little craft and fought
+the current with long sweeps of the paddle. Almayer sat up in
+his hammock, grasping his feet and peering over the river with
+parted lips till he made out the shadowy form of man and canoe as
+they struggled past the jetty again.
+
+"I thought you would go," he shouted. "Won't you take the gun?
+Hey?" he yelled, straining his voice. Then he fell back in his
+hammock and laughed to himself feebly till he fell asleep. On
+the river, Willems, his eyes fixed intently ahead, swept his
+paddle right and left, unheeding the words that reached him
+faintly.
+
+It was now three months since Lingard had landed Willems in
+Sambir and had departed hurriedly, leaving him in Almayer's care.
+
+The two white men did not get on well together. Almayer,
+remembering the time when they both served Hudig, and when the
+superior Willems treated him with offensive condescension, felt a
+great dislike towards his guest. He was also jealous of
+Lingard's favour. Almayer had married a Malay girl whom the old
+seaman had adopted in one of his accesses of unreasoning
+benevolence, and as the marriage was not a happy one from a
+domestic point of view, he looked to Lingard's fortune for
+compensation in his matrimonial unhappiness. The appearance of
+that man, who seemed to have a claim of some sort upon Lingard,
+filled him with considerable uneasiness, the more so because the
+old seaman did not choose to acquaint the husband of his adopted
+daughter with Willems' history, or to confide to him his
+intentions as to that individual's future fate. Suspicious from
+the first, Almayer discouraged Willems' attempts to help him in
+his trading, and then when Willems drew back, he made, with
+characteristic perverseness, a grievance of his unconcern. From
+cold civility in their relations, the two men drifted into silent
+hostility, then into outspoken enmity, and both wished ardently
+for Lingard's return and the end of a situation that grew more
+intolerable from day to day. The time dragged slowly. Willems
+watched the succeeding sunrises wondering dismally whether before
+the evening some change would occur in the deadly dullness of his
+life. He missed the commercial activity of that existence which
+seemed to him far off, irreparably lost, buried out of sight
+under the ruins of his past success--now gone from him beyond the
+possibility of redemption. He mooned disconsolately about
+Almayer's courtyard, watching from afar, with uninterested eyes,
+the up-country canoes discharging guttah or rattans, and loading
+rice or European goods on the little wharf of Lingard & Co. Big
+as was the extent of ground owned by Almayer, Willems yet felt
+that there was not enough room for him inside those neat fences.
+The man who, during long years, became accustomed to think of
+himself as indispensable to others, felt a bitter and savage rage
+at the cruel consciousness of his superfluity, of his
+uselessness; at the cold hostility visible in every look of the
+only white man in this barbarous corner of the world. He gnashed
+his teeth when he thought of the wasted days, of the life thrown
+away in the unwilling company of that peevish and suspicious
+fool. He heard the reproach of his idleness in the murmurs of
+the river, in the unceasing whisper of the great forests. Round
+him everything stirred, moved, swept by in a rush; the earth
+under his feet and the heavens above his head. The very savages
+around him strove, struggled, fought, worked--if only to prolong
+a miserable existence; but they lived, they lived! And it was
+only himself that seemed to be left outside the scheme of
+creation in a hopeless immobility filled with tormenting anger
+and with ever-stinging regret.
+
+He took to wandering about the settlement. The afterwards
+flourishing Sambir was born in a swamp and passed its youth in
+malodorous mud. The houses crowded the bank, and, as if to get
+away from the unhealthy shore, stepped boldly into the river,
+shooting over it in a close row of bamboo platforms elevated on
+high piles, amongst which the current below spoke in a soft and
+unceasing plaint of murmuring eddies. There was only one path in
+the whole town and it ran at the back of the houses along the
+succession of blackened circular patches that marked the place of
+the household fires. On the other side the virgin forest
+bordered the path, coming close to it, as if to provoke
+impudently any passer-by to the solution of the gloomy problem of
+its depths. Nobody would accept the deceptive challenge. There
+were only a few feeble attempts at a clearing here and there, but
+the ground was low and the river, retiring after its yearly
+floods, left on each a gradually diminishing mudhole, where the
+imported buffaloes of the Bugis settlers wallowed happily during
+the heat of the day. When Willems walked on the path, the
+indolent men stretched on the shady side of the houses looked at
+him with calm curiosity, the women busy round the cooking fires
+would send after him wondering and timid glances, while the
+children would only look once, and then run away yelling with
+fright at the horrible appearance of the man with a red and white
+face. These manifestations of childish disgust and fear stung
+Willems with a sense of absurd humiliation; he sought in his
+walks the comparative solitude of the rudimentary clearings, but
+the very buffaloes snorted with alarm at his sight, scrambled
+lumberingly out of the cool mud and stared wildly in a compact
+herd at him as he tried to slink unperceived along the edge of
+the forest. One day, at some unguarded and sudden movement of
+his, the whole herd stampeded down the path, scattered the fires,
+sent the women flying with shrill cries, and left behind a track
+of smashed pots, trampled rice, overturned children, and a crowd
+of angry men brandishing sticks in loud-voiced pursuit. The
+innocent cause of that disturbance ran shamefacedly the gauntlet
+of black looks and unfriendly remarks, and hastily sought refuge
+in Almayer's campong. After that he left the settlement alone.
+
+Later, when the enforced confinement grew irksome, Willems took
+one of Almayer's many canoes and crossed the main branch of the
+Pantai in search of some solitary spot where he could hide his
+discouragement and his weariness. He skirted in his little craft
+the wall of tangled verdure, keeping in the dead water close to
+the bank where the spreading nipa palms nodded their broad leaves
+over his head as if in contemptuous pity of the wandering
+outcast. Here and there he could see the beginnings of
+chopped-out pathways, and, with the fixed idea of getting out of
+sight of the busy river, he would land and follow the narrow and
+winding path, only to find that it led nowhere, ending abruptly
+in the discouragement of thorny thickets. He would go back
+slowly, with a bitter sense of unreasonable disappointment and
+sadness; oppressed by the hot smell of earth, dampness, and decay
+in that forest which seemed to push him mercilessly back into the
+glittering sunshine of the river. And he would recommence
+paddling with tired arms to seek another opening, to find another
+deception.
+
+As he paddled up to the point where the Rajah's stockade came
+down to the river, the nipas were left behind rattling their
+leaves over the brown water, and the big trees would appear on
+the bank, tall, strong, indifferent in the immense solidity of
+their life, which endures for ages, to that short and fleeting
+life in the heart of the man who crept painfully amongst their
+shadows in search of a refuge from the unceasing reproach of his
+thoughts. Amongst their smooth trunks a clear brook meandered
+for a time in twining lacets before it made up its mind to take a
+leap into the hurrying river, over the edge of the steep bank.
+There was also a pathway there and it seemed frequented. Willems
+landed, and following the capricious promise of the track soon
+found himself in a comparatively clear space, where the confused
+tracery of sunlight fell through the branches and the foliage
+overhead, and lay on the stream that shone in an easy curve like
+a bright sword-blade dropped amongst the long and feathery grass.
+
+Further on, the path continued, narrowed again in the thick
+undergrowth. At the end of the first turning Willems saw a flash
+of white and colour, a gleam of gold like a sun-ray lost in
+shadow, and a vision of blackness darker than the deepest shade
+of the forest. He stopped, surprised, and fancied he had heard
+light footsteps--growing lighter--ceasing. He looked around.
+The grass on the bank of the stream trembled and a tremulous path
+of its shivering, silver-grey tops ran from the water to the
+beginning of the thicket. And yet there was not a breath of
+wind. Somebody kind passed there. He looked pensive while the
+tremor died out in a quick tremble under his eyes; and the grass
+stood high, unstirring, with drooping heads in the warm and
+motionless air.
+
+He hurried on, driven by a suddenly awakened curiosity, and
+entered the narrow way between the bushes. At the next turn of
+the path he caught again the glimpse of coloured stuff and of a
+woman's black hair before him. He hastened his pace and came in
+full view of the object of his pursuit. The woman, who was
+carrying two bamboo vessels full of water, heard his footsteps,
+stopped, and putting the bamboos down half turned to look back.
+Willems also stood still for a minute, then walked steadily on
+with a firm tread, while the woman moved aside to let him pass.
+He kept his eyes fixed straight before him, yet almost
+unconsciously he took in every detail of the tall and graceful
+figure. As he approached her the woman tossed her head slightly
+back, and with a free gesture of her strong, round arm, caught up
+the mass of loose black hair and brought it over her shoulder and
+across the lower part of her face. The next moment he was
+passing her close, walking rigidly, like a man in a trance. He
+heard her rapid breathing and he felt the touch of a look darted
+at him from half-open eyes. It touched his brain and his heart
+together. It seemed to him to be something loud and stirring
+like a shout, silent and penetrating like an inspiration. The
+momentum of his motion carried him past her, but an invisible
+force made up of surprise and curiosity and desire spun him round
+as soon as he had passed.
+
+She had taken up her burden already, with the intention of
+pursuing her path. His sudden movement arrested her at the first
+step, and again she stood straight, slim, expectant, with a
+readiness to dart away suggested in the light immobility of her
+pose. High above, the branches of the trees met in a transparent
+shimmer of waving green mist, through which the rain of yellow
+rays descended upon her head, streamed in glints down her black
+tresses, shone with the changing glow of liquid metal on her
+face, and lost itself in vanishing sparks in the sombre depths of
+her eyes that, wide open now, with enlarged pupils, looked
+steadily at the man in her path. And Willems stared at her,
+charmed with a charm that carries with it a sense of irreparable
+loss, tingling with that feeling which begins like a caress and
+ends in a blow, in that sudden hurt of a new emotion making its
+way into a human heart, with the brusque stirring of sleeping
+sensations awakening suddenly to the rush of new hopes, new
+fears, new desires--and to the flight of one's old self.
+
+She moved a step forward and again halted. A breath of wind that
+came through the trees, but in Willems' fancy seemed to be driven
+by her moving figure, rippled in a hot wave round his body and
+scorched his face in a burning touch. He drew it in with a long
+breath, the last long breath of a soldier before the rush of
+battle, of a lover before he takes in his arms the adored woman;
+the breath that gives courage to confront the menace of death or
+the storm of passion.
+
+Who was she? Where did she come from? Wonderingly he took his
+eyes off her face to look round at the serried trees of the
+forest that stood big and still and straight, as if watching him
+and her breathlessly. He had been baffled, repelled, almost
+frightened by the intensity of that tropical life which wants the
+sunshine but works in gloom; which seems to be all grace of
+colour and form, all brilliance, all smiles, but is only the
+blossoming of the dead; whose mystery holds the promise of joy
+and beauty, yet contains nothing but poison and decay. He had
+been frightened by the vague perception of danger before, but
+now, as he looked at that life again, his eyes seemed able to
+pierce the fantastic veil of creepers and leaves, to look past
+the solid trunks, to see through the forbidding gloom--and the
+mystery was disclosed--enchanting, subduing, beautiful. He
+looked at the woman. Through the checkered light between them
+she appeared to him with the impalpable distinctness of a dream.
+The very spirit of that land of mysterious forests, standing
+before him like an apparition behind a transparent veil--a veil
+woven of sunbeams and shadows.
+
+She had approached him still nearer. He felt a strange
+impatience within him at her advance. Confused thoughts rushed
+through his head, disordered, shapeless, stunning. Then he heard
+his own voice asking--
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"I am the daughter of the blind Omar," she answered, in a low but
+steady tone. "And you," she went on, a little louder, "you are
+the white trader--the great man of this place."
+
+"Yes," said Willems, holding her eyes with his in a sense of
+extreme effort, "Yes, I am white." Then he added, feeling as if
+he spoke about some other man, "But I am the outcast of my
+people."
+
+She listened to him gravely. Through the mesh of scattered hair
+her face looked like the face of a golden statue with living
+eyes. The heavy eyelids dropped slightly, and from between the
+long eyelashes she sent out a sidelong look: hard, keen, and
+narrow, like the gleam of sharp steel. Her lips were firm and
+composed in a graceful curve, but the distended nostrils, the
+upward poise of the half-averted head, gave to her whole person
+the expression of a wild and resentful defiance.
+
+A shadow passed over Willems' face. He put his hand over his
+lips as if to keep back the words that wanted to come out in a
+surge of impulsive necessity, the outcome of dominant thought
+that rushes from the heart to the brain and must be spoken in the
+face of doubt, of danger, of fear, of destruction itself.
+
+"You are beautiful," he whispered.
+
+She looked at him again with a glance that running in one quick
+flash of her eyes over his sunburnt features, his broad
+shoulders, his straight, tall, motionless figure, rested at last
+on the ground at his feet. Then she smiled. In the sombre
+beauty of her face that smile was like the first ray of light on
+a stormy daybreak that darts evanescent and pale through the
+gloomy clouds: the forerunner of sunrise and of thunder.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN
+
+
+There are in our lives short periods which hold no place in
+memory but only as the recollection of a feeling. There is no
+remembrance of gesture, of action, of any outward manifestation
+of life; those are lost in the unearthly brilliance or in the
+unearthly gloom of such moments. We are absorbed in the
+contemplation of that something, within our bodies, which
+rejoices or suffers while the body goes on breathing,
+instinctively runs away or, not less instinctively,
+fights--perhaps dies. But death in such a moment is the
+privilege of the fortunate, it is a high and rare favour, a
+supreme grace.
+
+Willems never remembered how and when he parted from Aissa. He
+caught himself drinking the muddy water out of the hollow of his
+hand, while his canoe was drifting in mid-stream past the last
+houses of Sambir. With his returning wits came the fear of
+something unknown that had taken possession of his heart, of
+something inarticulate and masterful which could not speak and
+would be obeyed. His first impulse was that of revolt. He would
+never go back there. Never! He looked round slowly at the
+brilliance of things in the deadly sunshine and took up his
+paddle! How changed everything seemed! The river was broader,
+the sky was higher. How fast the canoe flew under the strokes of
+his paddle! Since when had he acquired the strength of two men
+or more? He looked up and down the reach at the forests of the
+bank with a confused notion that with one sweep of his hand he
+could tumble all these trees into the stream. His face felt
+burning. He drank again, and shuddered with a depraved sense of
+pleasure at the after-taste of slime in the water.
+
+It was late when he reached Almayer's house, but he crossed the
+dark and uneven courtyard, walking lightly in the radiance of
+some light of his own, invisible to other eyes. His host's sulky
+greeting jarred him like a sudden fall down a great height. He
+took his place at the table opposite Almayer and tried to speak
+cheerfully to his gloomy companion, but when the meal was ended
+and they sat smoking in silence he felt an abrupt discouragement,
+a lassitude in all his limbs, a sense of immense sadness as after
+some great and irreparable loss. The darkness of the night
+entered his heart, bringing with it doubt and hesitation and dull
+anger with himself and all the world. He had an impulse to shout
+horrible curses, to quarrel with Almayer, to do something
+violent. Quite without any immediate provocation he thought he
+would like to assault the wretched, sulky beast. He glanced at
+him ferociously from under his eyebrows. The unconscious Almayer
+smoked thoughtfully, planning to-morrow's work probably. The
+man's composure seemed to Willems an unpardonable insult. Why
+didn't that idiot talk to-night when he wanted him to? . . . on
+other nights he was ready enough to chatter. And such dull
+nonsense too! And Willems, trying hard to repress his own
+senseless rage, looked fixedly through the thick tobacco-smoke at
+the stained tablecloth.
+
+They retired early, as usual, but in the middle of the night
+Willems leaped out of his hammock with a stifled execration and
+ran down the steps into the courtyard. The two night watchmen,
+who sat by a little fire talking together in a monotonous
+undertone, lifted their heads to look wonderingly at the
+discomposed features of the white man as he crossed the circle of
+light thrown out by their fire. He disappeared in the darkness
+and then came back again, passing them close, but with no sign of
+consciousness of their presence on his face. Backwards and
+forwards he paced, muttering to himself, and the two Malays,
+after a short consultation in whispers left the fire quietly, not
+thinking it safe to remain in the vicinity of a white man who
+behaved in such a strange manner. They retired round the corner
+of the godown and watched Willems curiously through the night,
+till the short daybreak was followed by the sudden blaze of the
+rising sun, and Almayer's establishment woke up to life and work.
+
+As soon as he could get away unnoticed in the bustle of the busy
+riverside, Willems crossed the river on his way to the place
+where he had met Aissa. He threw himself down in the grass by
+the side of the brook and listened for the sound of her
+footsteps. The brilliant light of day fell through the irregular
+opening in the high branches of the trees and streamed down,
+softened, amongst the shadows of big trunks. Here and there a
+narrow sunbeam touched the rugged bark of a tree with a golden
+splash, sparkled on the leaping water of the brook, or rested on
+a leaf that stood out, shimmering and distinct, on the monotonous
+background of sombre green tints. The clear gap of blue above
+his head was crossed by the quick flight of white rice-birds
+whose wings flashed in the sunlight, while through it the heat
+poured down from the sky, clung about the steaming earth, rolled
+among the trees, and wrapped up Willems in the soft and odorous
+folds of air heavy with the faint scent of blossoms and with the
+acrid smell of decaying life. And in that atmosphere of Nature's
+workshop Willems felt soothed and lulled into forgetfulness of
+his past, into indifference as to his future. The recollections
+of his triumphs, of his wrongs and of his ambition vanished in
+that warmth, which seemed to melt all regrets, all hope, all
+anger, all strength out of his heart. And he lay there, dreamily
+contented, in the tepid and perfumed shelter, thinking of Aissa's
+eyes; recalling the sound of her voice, the quiver of her
+lips--her frowns and her smile.
+
+She came, of course. To her he was something new, unknown and
+strange. He was bigger, stronger than any man she had seen
+before, and altogether different from all those she knew. He was
+of the victorious race. With a vivid remembrance of the great
+catastrophe of her life he appeared to her with all the
+fascination of a great and dangerous thing; of a terror
+vanquished, surmounted, made a plaything of. They spoke with
+just such a deep voice--those victorious men; they looked with
+just such hard blue eyes at their enemies. And she made that
+voice speak softly to her, those eyes look tenderly at her face!
+He was indeed a man. She could not understand all he told her of
+his life, but the fragments she understood she made up for
+herself into a story of a man great amongst his own people,
+valorous and unfortunate; an undaunted fugitive dreaming of
+vengeance against his enemies. He had all the attractiveness of
+the vague and the unknown--of the unforeseen and of the sudden;
+of a being strong, dangerous, alive, and human, ready to be
+enslaved.
+
+She felt that he was ready. She felt it with the unerring
+intuition of a primitive woman confronted by a simple impulse.
+Day after day, when they met and she stood a little way off,
+listening to his words, holding him with her look, the undefined
+terror of the new conquest became faint and blurred like the
+memory of a dream, and the certitude grew distinct, and
+convincing, and visible to the eyes like some material thing in
+full sunlight. It was a deep joy, a great pride, a tangible
+sweetness that seemed to leave the taste of honey on her lips.
+He lay stretched at her feet without moving, for he knew from
+experience how a slight movement of his could frighten her away
+in those first days of their intercourse. He lay very quiet,
+with all the ardour of his desire ringing in his voice and
+shining in his eyes, whilst his body was still, like death
+itself. And he looked at her, standing above him, her head lost
+in the shadow of broad and graceful leaves that touched her
+cheek; while the slender spikes of pale green orchids streamed
+down from amongst the boughs and mingled with the black hair that
+framed her face, as if all those plants claimed her for their
+own--the animated and brilliant flower of all that exuberant life
+which, born in gloom, struggles for ever towards the sunshine.
+
+Every day she came a little nearer. He watched her slow
+progress--the gradual taming of that woman by the words of his
+love. It was the monotonous song of praise and desire that,
+commencing at creation, wraps up the world like an atmosphere and
+shall end only in the end of all things--when there are no lips
+to sing and no ears to hear. He told her that she was beautiful
+and desirable, and he repeated it again and again; for when he
+told her that, he had said all there was within him--he had
+expressed his only thought, his only feeling. And he watched the
+startled look of wonder and mistrust vanish from her face with
+the passing days, her eyes soften, the smile dwell longer and
+longer on her lips; a smile as of one charmed by a delightful
+dream; with the slight exaltation of intoxicating triumph lurking
+in its dawning tenderness.
+
+And while she was near there was nothing in the whole world--for
+that idle man--but her look and her smile. Nothing in the past,
+nothing in the future; and in the present only the luminous fact
+of her existence. But in the sudden darkness of her going he
+would be left weak and helpless, as though despoiled violently of
+all that was himself. He who had lived all his life with no
+preoccupation but that of his own career, contemptuously
+indifferent to all feminine influence, full of scorn for men that
+would submit to it, if ever so little; he, so strong, so superior
+even in his errors, realized at last that his very individuality
+was snatched from within himself by the hand of a woman. Where
+was the assurance and pride of his cleverness; the belief in
+success, the anger of failure, the wish to retrieve his fortune,
+the certitude of his ability to accomplish it yet? Gone. All
+gone. All that had been a man within him was gone, and there
+remained only the trouble of his heart--that heart which had
+become a contemptible thing; which could be fluttered by a look
+or a smile, tormented by a word, soothed by a promise.
+
+When the longed-for day came at last, when she sank on the grass
+by his side and with a quick gesture took his hand in hers, he
+sat up suddenly with the movement and look of a man awakened by
+the crash of his own falling house. All his blood, all his
+sensation, all his life seemed to rush into that hand leaving him
+without strength, in a cold shiver, in the sudden clamminess and
+collapse as of a deadly gun-shot wound. He flung her hand away
+brutally, like something burning, and sat motionless, his head
+fallen forward, staring on the ground and catching his breath in
+painful gasps. His impulse of fear and apparent horror did not
+dismay her in the least. Her face was grave and her eyes looked
+seriously at him. Her fingers touched the hair of his temple,
+ran in a light caress down his cheek, twisted gently the end of
+his long moustache: and while he sat in the tremor of that
+contact she ran off with startling fleetness and disappeared in a
+peal of clear laughter, in the stir of grass, in the nod of young
+twigs growing over the path; leaving behind only a vanishing
+trail of motion and sound.
+
+He scrambled to his feet slowly and painfully, like a man with a
+burden on his shoulders, and walked towards the riverside. He
+hugged to his breast the recollection of his fear and of his
+delight, but told himself seriously over and over again that this
+must be the end of that adventure. After shoving off his canoe
+into the stream he lifted his eyes to the bank and gazed at it
+long and steadily, as if taking his last look at a place of
+charming memories. He marched up to Almayer's house with the
+concentrated expression and the determined step of a man who had
+just taken a momentous resolution. His face was set and rigid,
+his gestures and movements were guarded and slow. He was keeping
+a tight hand on himself. A very tight hand. He had a vivid
+illusion--as vivid as reality almost--of being in charge of a
+slippery prisoner. He sat opposite Almayer during that
+dinner--which was their last meal together--with a perfectly calm
+face and within him a growing terror of escape from his own self.
+
+Now and then he would grasp the edge of the table and set his
+teeth hard in a sudden wave of acute despair, like one who,
+falling down a smooth and rapid declivity that ends in a
+precipice, digs his finger nails into the yielding surface and
+feels himself slipping helplessly to inevitable destruction.
+
+Then, abruptly, came a relaxation of his muscles, the giving way
+of his will. Something seemed to snap in his head, and that
+wish, that idea kept back during all those hours, darted into his
+brain with the heat and noise of a conflagration. He must see
+her! See her at once! Go now! To-night! He had the raging
+regret of the lost hour, of every passing moment. There was no
+thought of resistance now. Yet with the instinctive fear of the
+irrevocable, with the innate falseness of the human heart, he
+wanted to keep open the way of retreat. He had never absented
+himself during the night. What did Almayer know? What would
+Almayer think? Better ask him for the gun. A moonlight night. .
+. . Look for deer. . . . A colourable pretext. He would lie to
+Almayer. What did it matter! He lied to himself every minute of
+his life. And for what? For a woman. And such. . . .
+
+Almayer's answer showed him that deception was useless.
+Everything gets to be known, even in this place. Well, he did
+not care. Cared for nothing but for the lost seconds. What if
+he should suddenly die. Die before he saw her. Before he could .
+. .
+
+As, with the sound of Almayer's laughter in his ears, he urged
+his canoe in a slanting course across the rapid current, he tried
+to tell himself that he could return at any moment. He would
+just go and look at the place where they used to meet, at the
+tree under which he lay when she took his hand, at the spot where
+she sat by his side. Just go there and then return--nothing
+more; but when his little skiff touched the bank he leaped out,
+forgetting the painter, and the canoe hung for a moment amongst
+the bushes and then swung out of sight before he had time to dash
+into the water and secure it. He was thunderstruck at first.
+Now
+he could not go back unless he called up the Rajah's people to
+get a boat and rowers--and the way to Patalolo's campong led past
+Aissa's house!
+
+He went up the path with the eager eyes and reluctant steps of a
+man pursuing a phantom, and when he found himself at a place
+where a narrow track branched off to the left towards Omar's
+clearing he stood still, with a look of strained attention on his
+face as if listening to a far-off voice--the voice of his fate.
+It was a sound inarticulate but full of meaning; and following it
+there came a rending and tearing within his breast. He twisted
+his fingers together, and the joints of his hands and arms
+cracked. On his forehead the perspiration stood out in small
+pearly drops. He looked round wildly. Above the shapeless
+darkness of the forest undergrowth rose the treetops with their
+high boughs and leaves standing out black on the pale sky--like
+fragments of night floating on moonbeams. Under his feet warm
+steam rose from the heated earth. Round him there was a great
+silence.
+
+He was looking round for help. This silence, this immobility of
+his surroundings seemed to him a cold rebuke, a stern refusal, a
+cruel unconcern. There was no safety outside of himself--and in
+himself there was no refuge; there was only the image of that
+woman. He had a sudden moment of lucidity--of that cruel lucidity
+that comes once in life to the most benighted. He seemed to see
+what went on within him, and was horrified at the strange sight.
+He, a white man whose worst fault till then had been a little
+want of judgment and too much confidence in the rectitude of his
+kind! That woman was a complete savage, and . . . He tried to
+tell himself that the thing was of no consequence. It was a vain
+effort. The novelty of the sensations he had never experienced
+before in the slightest degree, yet had despised on hearsay from
+his safe position of a civilized man, destroyed his courage. He
+was disappointed with himself. He seemed to be surrendering to a
+wild creature the unstained purity of his life, of his race, of
+his civilization. He had a notion of being lost amongst
+shapeless things that were dangerous and ghastly. He struggled
+with the sense of certain defeat--lost his footing--fell back
+into the darkness. With a faint cry and an upward throw of his
+arms he gave up as a tired swimmer gives up: because the swamped
+craft is gone from under his feet; because the night is dark and
+the shore is far--because death is better than strife.
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+
+The light and heat fell upon the settlement, the clearings, and
+the river as if flung down by an angry hand. The land lay
+silent, still, and brilliant under the avalanche of burning rays
+that had destroyed all sound and all motion, had buried all
+shadows, had choked every breath. No living thing dared to
+affront the serenity of this cloudless sky, dared to revolt
+against the oppression of this glorious and cruel sunshine.
+Strength and resolution, body and mind alike were helpless, and
+tried to hide before the rush of the fire from heaven. Only the
+frail butterflies, the fearless children of the sun, the
+capricious tyrants of the flowers, fluttered audaciously in the
+open, and their minute shadows hovered in swarms over the
+drooping blossoms, ran lightly on the withering grass, or glided
+on the dry and cracked earth. No voice was heard in this hot
+noontide but the faint murmur of the river that hurried on in
+swirls and eddies, its sparkling wavelets chasing each other in
+their joyous course to the sheltering depths, to the cool refuge
+of the sea.
+
+Almayer had dismissed his workmen for the midday rest, and, his
+little daughter on his shoulder, ran quickly across the
+courtyard, making for the shade of the verandah of his house. He
+laid the sleepy child on the seat of the big rocking-chair, on a
+pillow which he took out of his own hammock, and stood for a
+while looking down at her with tender and pensive eyes. The
+child, tired and hot, moved uneasily, sighed, and looked up at
+him with the veiled look of sleepy fatigue. He picked up from
+the floor a broken palm-leaf fan, and began fanning gently the
+flushed little face. Her eyelids fluttered and Almayer smiled.
+A responsive smile brightened for a second her heavy eyes, broke
+with a dimple the soft outline of her cheek; then the eyelids
+dropped suddenly, she drew a long breath through the parted
+lips--and was in a deep sleep before the fleeting smile could
+vanish from her face.
+
+Almayer moved lightly off, took one of the wooden armchairs, and
+placing it close to the balustrade of the verandah sat down with
+a sigh of relief. He spread his elbows on the top rail and
+resting his chin on his clasped hands looked absently at the
+river, at the dance of sunlight on the flowing water. Gradually
+the forest of the further bank became smaller, as if sinking
+below the level of the river. The outlines wavered, grew thin,
+dissolved in the air. Before his eyes there was now only a space
+of undulating blue--one big, empty sky growing dark at times. . .
+. Where was the sunshine? . . . He felt soothed and happy, as
+if some gentle and invisible hand had removed from his soul the
+burden of his body. In another second he seemed to float out
+into a cool brightness where there was no such thing as memory or
+pain. Delicious. His eyes closed--opened--closed again.
+
+"Almayer!"
+
+With a sudden jerk of his whole body he sat up, grasping the
+front rail with both his hands, and blinked stupidly.
+
+"What? What's that?" he muttered, looking round vaguely.
+
+"Here! Down here, Almayer."
+
+Half rising in his chair, Almayer looked over the rail at the
+foot of the verandah, and fell back with a low whistle of
+astonishment.
+
+"A ghost, by heavens!" he exclaimed softly to himself.
+
+"Will you listen to me?" went on the husky voice from the
+courtyard. "May I come up, Almayer?"
+
+Almayer stood up and leaned over the rail. "Don't you dare," he
+said, in a voice subdued but distinct. "Don't you dare! The
+child sleeps here. And I don't want to hear you--or speak to you
+either."
+
+"You must listen to me! It's something important."
+
+"Not to me, surely."
+
+"Yes! To you. Very important."
+
+"You were always a humbug," said Almayer, after a short silence,
+in an indulgent tone. "Always! I remember the old days. Some
+fellows used to say there was no one like you for smartness--but
+you never took me in. Not quite. I never quite believed in you,
+Mr. Willems."
+
+"I admit your superior intelligence," retorted Willems, with
+scornful impatience, from below. "Listening to me would be a
+further proof of it. You will be sorry if you don't."
+
+"Oh, you funny fellow!" said Almayer, banteringly. "Well, come
+up. Don't make a noise, but come up. You'll catch a sunstroke
+down there and die on my doorstep perhaps. I don't want any
+tragedy here. Come on!"
+
+Before he finished speaking Willems' head appeared above the
+level of the floor, then his shoulders rose gradually and he
+stood at last before Almayer--a masquerading spectre of the once
+so very confidential clerk of the richest merchant in the
+islands. His jacket was soiled and torn; below the waist he was
+clothed in a worn-out and faded sarong. He flung off his hat,
+uncovering his long, tangled hair that stuck in wisps on his
+perspiring forehead and straggled over his eyes, which glittered
+deep down in the sockets like the last sparks amongst the black
+embers of a burnt-out fire. An unclean beard grew out of the
+caverns of his sunburnt cheeks. The hand he put out towards
+Almayer was very unsteady. The once firm mouth had the tell-tale
+droop of mental suffering and physical exhaustion. He was
+barefooted. Almayer surveyed him with leisurely composure.
+
+"Well!" he said at last, without taking the extended hand which
+dropped slowly along Willems' body.
+
+"I am come," began Willems.
+
+"So I see," interrupted Almayer. "You might have spared me this
+treat without making me unhappy. You have been away five weeks,
+if I am not mistaken. I got on very well without you--and now you
+are here you are not pretty to look at."
+
+"Let me speak, will you!" exclaimed Willems.
+
+"Don't shout like this. Do you think yourself in the forest with
+your . . . your friends? This is a civilized man's house. A
+white man's. Understand?"
+
+"I am come," began Willems again; "I am come for your good and
+mine."
+
+"You look as if you had come for a good feed," chimed in the
+irrepressible Almayer, while Willems waved his hand in a
+discouraged gesture. "Don't they give you enough to eat," went
+on Almayer, in a tone of easy banter, "those--what am I to call
+them--those new relations of yours? That old blind scoundrel
+must be delighted with your company. You know, he was the
+greatest thief and murderer of those seas. Say! do you exchange
+confidences? Tell me, Willems, did you kill somebody in Macassar
+or did you only steal something?"
+
+"It is not true!" exclaimed Willems, hotly. "I only borrowed. .
+. . They all lied! I . . ."
+
+"Sh-sh!" hissed Almayer, warningly, with a look at the sleeping
+child. "So you did steal," he went on, with repressed
+exultation. "I thought there was something of the kind. And
+now, here, you steal again."
+
+For the first time Willems raised his eyes to Almayer's face.
+
+"Oh, I don't mean from me. I haven't missed anything," said
+Almayer, with mocking haste. "But that girl. Hey! You stole
+her. You did not pay the old fellow. She is no good to him now,
+is she?"
+
+"Stop that. Almayer!"
+
+Something in Willems' tone caused Almayer to pause. He looked
+narrowly at the man before him, and could not help being shocked
+at his appearance.
+
+"Almayer," went on Willems, "listen to me. If you are a human
+being you will. I suffer horribly--and for your sake."
+
+Almayer lifted his eyebrows. "Indeed! How? But you are
+raving," he added, negligently.
+
+"Ah! You don't know," whispered Willems. "She is gone. Gone,"
+he repeated, with tears in his voice, "gone two days ago."
+
+"No!" exclaimed the surprised Almayer. "Gone! I haven't heard
+that news yet." He burst into a subdued laugh. "How funny! Had
+enough of you already? You know it's not flattering for you, my
+superior countryman."
+
+Willems--as if not hearing him--leaned against one of the columns
+of the roof and looked over the river. "At first," he whispered,
+dreamily, "my life was like a vision of heaven--or hell; I didn't
+know which. Since she went I know what perdition means; what
+darkness is. I know what it is to be torn to pieces alive.
+That's how I feel."
+
+"You may come and live with me again," said Almayer, coldly.
+"After all, Lingard--whom I call my father and respect as
+such--left you under my care. You pleased yourself by going
+away. Very good. Now you want to come back. Be it so. I am no
+friend of yours. I act for Captain Lingard."
+
+"Come back?" repeated Willems, passionately. "Come back to you
+and abandon her? Do you think I am mad? Without her! Man! what
+are you made of? To think that she moves, lives, breathes out of
+my sight. I am jealous of the wind that fans her, of the air she
+breathes, of the earth that receives the caress of her foot, of
+the sun that looks at her now while I . . . I haven't seen her
+for two days--two days."
+
+The intensity of Willems' feeling moved Almayer somewhat, but he
+affected to yawn elaborately
+
+"You do bore me," he muttered. "Why don't you go after her
+instead of coming here?"
+
+"Why indeed?"
+
+"Don't you know where she is? She can't be very far. No native
+craft has left this river for the last fortnight."
+
+"No! not very far--and I will tell you where she is. She is in
+Lakamba's campong." And Willems fixed his eyes steadily on
+Almayer's face.
+
+"Phew! Patalolo never sent to let me know. Strange," said
+Almayer, thoughtfully. "Are you afraid of that lot?" he added,
+after a short pause.
+
+"I--afraid!"
+
+"Then is it the care of your dignity which prevents you from
+following her there, my high-minded friend?" asked Almayer, with
+mock solicitude. "How noble of you!"
+
+There was a short silence; then Willems said, quietly, "You are a
+fool. I should like to kick you."
+
+"No fear," answered Almayer, carelessly; "you are too weak for
+that. You look starved."
+
+"I don't think I have eaten anything for the last two days;
+perhaps more--I don't remember. It does not matter. I am full
+of live embers," said Willems, gloomily. "Look!" and he bared an
+arm covered with fresh scars. "I have been biting myself to
+forget in that pain the fire that hurts me there!" He struck his
+breast violently with his fist, reeled under his own blow, fell
+into a chair that stood near and closed his eyes slowly.
+
+"Disgusting exhibition," said Almayer, loftily. "What could
+father ever see in you? You are as estimable as a heap of
+garbage."
+
+"You talk like that! You, who sold your soul for a few
+guilders," muttered Willems, wearily, without opening his eyes.
+
+"Not so few," said Almayer, with instinctive readiness, and
+stopped confused for a moment. He recovered himself quickly,
+however, and went on: "But you--you have thrown yours away for
+nothing; flung it under the feet of a damned savage woman who has
+made you already the thing you are, and will kill you very soon,
+one way or another, with her love or with her hate. You spoke
+just now about guilders. You meant Lingard's money, I suppose.
+Well, whatever I have sold, and for whatever price, I never meant
+you--you of all people--to spoil my bargain. I feel pretty safe
+though. Even father, even Captain Lingard, would not touch you
+now with a pair of tongs; not with a ten-foot pole. . . ."
+
+He spoke excitedly, all in one breath, and, ceasing suddenly,
+glared at Willems and breathed hard through his nose in sulky
+resentment. Willems looked at him steadily for a moment, then
+got up.
+
+"Almayer," he said resolutely, "I want to become a trader in
+this place."
+
+Almayer shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Yes. And you shall set me up. I want a house and trade
+goods--perhaps a little money. I ask you for it."
+
+"Anything else you want? Perhaps this coat?" and here Almayer
+unbuttoned his jacket--"or my house--or my boots?"
+
+"After all it's natural," went on Willems, without paying any
+attention to Almayer--"it's natural that she should expect the
+advantages which . . . and then I could shut up that old wretch
+and then . . ."
+
+He paused, his face brightened with the soft light of dreamy
+enthusiasm, and he turned his eyes upwards. With his gaunt figure
+and dilapidated appearance he looked like some ascetic dweller in
+a wilderness, finding the reward of a self-denying life in a
+vision of dazzling glory. He went on in an impassioned murmur--
+
+"And then I would have her all to myself away from her
+people--all to myself--under my own influence--to fashion--to
+mould--to adore--to soften--to . . . Oh! Delight! And
+then--then go away to some distant place where, far from all she
+knew, I would be all the world to her! All the world to her!"
+
+His face changed suddenly. His eyes wandered for awhile and
+then became steady all at once.
+
+"I would repay every cent, of course," he said, in a
+business-like tone, with something of his old assurance, of his
+old belief in himself, in it. "Every cent. I need not interfere
+with your business. I shall cut out the small native traders. I
+have ideas--but never mind that now. And Captain Lingard would
+approve, I feel sure. After all it's a loan, and I shall be at
+hand. Safe thing for you."
+
+"Ah! Captain Lingard would approve! He would app . . ."
+Almayer choked. The notion of Lingard doing something for
+Willems enraged him. His face was purple. He spluttered
+insulting words. Willems looked at him coolly.
+
+"I assure you, Almayer," he said, gently, "that I have good
+grounds for my demand."
+
+"Your cursed impudence!"
+
+"Believe me, Almayer, your position here is not so safe as you
+may think. An unscrupulous rival here would destroy your trade
+in a year. It would be ruin. Now Lingard's long absence gives
+courage to certain individuals. You know?--I have heard much
+lately. They made proposals to me . . . You are very much alone
+here. Even Patalolo . . ."
+
+"Damn Patalolo! I am master in this place."
+
+"But, Almayer, don't you see . . ."
+
+"Yes, I see. I see a mysterious ass," interrupted Almayer,
+violently. "What is the meaning of your veiled threats? Don't
+you think I know something also? They have been intriguing for
+years--and nothing has happened. The Arabs have been hanging
+about outside this river for years--and I am still the only
+trader here; the master here. Do you bring me a declaration of
+war? Then it's from yourself only. I know all my other enemies.
+
+I ought to knock you on the head. You are not worth powder and
+shot though. You ought to be destroyed with a stick--like a
+snake."
+
+Almayer's voice woke up the little girl, who sat up on the pillow
+with a sharp cry. He rushed over to the chair, caught up the
+child in his arms, walked back blindly, stumbled against Willems'
+hat which lay on the floor, and kicked it furiously down the
+steps.
+
+"Clear out of this! Clear out!" he shouted.
+
+Willems made an attempt to speak, but Almayer howled him down.
+
+"Take yourself off! Don't you see you frighten the child--you
+scarecrow! No, no! dear," he went on to his little daughter,
+soothingly, while Willems walked down the steps slowly. "No.
+Don't cry. See! Bad man going away. Look! He is afraid of
+your papa. Nasty, bad man. Never come back again. He shall
+live in the woods and never come near my little girl. If he
+comes papa will kill him--so!" He struck his fist on the rail of
+the balustrade to show how he would kill Willems, and, perching
+the consoled child on his shoulder held her with one hand, while
+he pointed toward the retreating figure of his visitor.
+
+"Look how he runs away, dearest," he said, coaxingly. "Isn't he
+funny. Call 'pig' after him, dearest. Call after him."
+
+The seriousness of her face vanished into dimples. Under the long
+eyelashes, glistening with recent tears, her big eyes sparkled
+and danced with fun. She took firm hold of Almayer's hair with
+one hand, while she waved the other joyously and called out with
+all her might, in a clear note, soft and distinct like the pipe
+of a bird:--
+
+"Pig! Pig! Pig!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+A sigh under the flaming blue, a shiver of the sleeping sea, a
+cool breath as if a door had been swung upon the frozen spaces of
+the universe, and with a stir of leaves, with the nod of boughs,
+with the tremble of slender branches the sea breeze struck the
+coast, rushed up the river, swept round the broad reaches, and
+travelled on in a soft ripple of darkening water, in the whisper
+of branches, in the rustle of leaves of the awakened forests. It
+fanned in Lakamba's campong the dull red of expiring embers into
+a pale brilliance; and, under its touch, the slender, upright
+spirals of smoke that rose from every glowing heap swayed,
+wavered, and eddying down filled the twilight of clustered shade
+trees with the aromatic scent of the burning wood. The men who
+had been dozing in the shade during the hot hours of the
+afternoon woke up, and the silence of the big courtyard was
+broken by the hesitating murmur of yet sleepy voices, by coughs
+and yawns, with now and then a burst of laughter, a loud hail, a
+name or a joke sent out in a soft drawl. Small groups squatted
+round the little fires, and the monotonous undertone of talk
+filled the enclosure; the talk of barbarians, persistent, steady,
+repeating itself in the soft syllables, in musical tones of the
+never-ending discourses of those men of the forests and the sea,
+who can talk most of the day and all the night; who never exhaust
+a subject, never seem able to thresh a matter out; to whom that
+talk is poetry and painting and music, all art, all history;
+their only accomplishment, their only superiority, their only
+amusement. The talk of camp fires, which speaks of bravery and
+cunning, of strange events and of far countries, of the news of
+yesterday and the news of to-morrow. The talk about the dead and
+the living--about those who fought and those who loved.
+
+Lakamba came out on the platform before his own house and sat
+down--perspiring, half asleep, and sulky--in a wooden armchair
+under the shade of the overhanging eaves. Through the darkness
+of the doorway he could hear the soft warbling of his womenkind,
+busy round the looms where they were weaving the checkered
+pattern of his gala sarongs. Right and left of him on the
+flexible bamboo floor those of his followers to whom their
+distinguished birth, long devotion, or faithful service had given
+the privilege of using the chief's house, were sleeping on mats
+or just sat up rubbing their eyes: while the more wakeful had
+mustered enough energy to draw a chessboard with red clay on a
+fine mat and were now meditating silently over their moves.
+Above the prostrate forms of the players, who lay face downward
+supported on elbow, the soles of their feet waving irresolutely
+about, in the absorbed meditation of the game, there towered here
+and there the straight figure of an attentive spectator looking
+down with dispassionate but profound interest. On the edge of
+the platform a row of high-heeled leather sandals stood ranged
+carefully in a level line, and against the rough wooden rail
+leaned the slender shafts of the spears belonging to these
+gentlemen, the broad blades of dulled steel looking very black in
+the reddening light of approaching sunset.
+
+A boy of about twelve--the personal attendant of Lakamba--
+squatted at his master's feet and held up towards him a silver
+siri box. Slowly Lakamba took the box, opened it, and tearing
+off a piece of green leaf deposited in it a pinch of lime, a
+morsel of gambier, a small bit of areca nut, and wrapped up the
+whole with a dexterous twist. He paused, morsel in hand, seemed
+to miss something, turned his head from side to side,
+slowly, like a man with a stiff neck, and ejaculated in an
+ill-humoured bass--
+
+"Babalatchi!"
+
+The players glanced up quickly, and looked down again directly.
+Those men who were standing stirred uneasily as if prodded by the
+sound of the chief's voice. The one nearest to Lakamba repeated
+the call, after a while, over the rail into the courtyard. There
+was a movement of upturned faces below by the fires, and the cry
+trailed over the enclosure in sing-song tones. The thumping of
+wooden pestles husking the evening rice stopped for a moment and
+Babalatchi's name rang afresh shrilly on women's lips in various
+keys. A voice far off shouted something--another, nearer,
+repeated it; there was a short hubbub which died out with extreme
+suddenness. The first crier turned to Lakamba, saying
+indolently--
+
+"He is with the blind Omar."
+
+Lakamba's lips moved inaudibly. The man who had just spoken was
+again deeply absorbed in the game going on at his feet; and the
+chief--as if he had forgotten all about it already--sat with a
+stolid face amongst his silent followers, leaning back squarely
+in his chair, his hands on the arms of his seat, his knees apart,
+his big blood-shot eyes blinking solemnly, as if dazzled by the
+noble vacuity of his thoughts.
+
+Babalatchi had gone to see old Omar late in the afternoon. The
+delicate manipulation of the ancient pirate's susceptibilities,
+the skilful management of Aissa's violent impulses engrossed him
+to the exclusion of every other business--interfered with his
+regular attendance upon his chief and protector--even disturbed
+his sleep for the last three nights. That day when he left his
+own bamboo hut--which stood amongst others in Lakamba's
+campong--his heart was heavy with anxiety and with doubt as to
+the success of his intrigue. He walked slowly, with his usual
+air of detachment from his surroundings, as if unaware that many
+sleepy eyes watched from all parts of the courtyard his progress
+towards a small gate at its upper end. That gate gave access to
+a separate enclosure in which a rather large house, built of
+planks, had been prepared by Lakamba's orders for the reception
+of Omar and Aissa. It was a superior kind of habitation which
+Lakamba intended for the dwelling of his chief adviser--whose
+abilities were worth that honour, he thought. But after the
+consultation in the deserted clearing--when Babalatchi had
+disclosed his plan--they both had agreed that the new house
+should be used at first to shelter Omar and Aissa after they had
+been persuaded to leave the Rajah's place, or had been kidnapped
+from there--as the case might be. Babalatchi did not mind in the
+least the putting off of his own occupation of the house of
+honour, because it had many advantages for the quiet working out
+of his plans. It had a certain seclusion, having an enclosure of
+its own, and that enclosure communicated also with Lakamba's
+private courtyard at the back of his residence--a place set apart
+for the female household of the chief. The only communication
+with the river was through the great front courtyard always full
+of armed men and watchful eyes. Behind the whole group of
+buildings there stretched the level ground of rice-clearings,
+which in their turn were closed in by the wall of untouched
+forests with undergrowth so thick and tangled that nothing but a
+bullet--and that fired at pretty close range--could penetrate any
+distance there.
+
+Babalatchi slipped quietly through the little gate and, closing
+it, tied up carefully the rattan fastenings. Before the house
+there was a square space of ground, beaten hard into the level
+smoothness of asphalte. A big buttressed tree, a giant left
+there on purpose during the process of clearing the land, roofed
+in the clear space with a high canopy of gnarled boughs and
+thick, sombre leaves. To the right--and some small distance away
+from the large house--a little hut of reeds, covered with mats,
+had been put up for the special convenience of Omar, who, being
+blind and infirm, had some difficulty in ascending the steep
+plankway that led to the more substantial dwelling, which was
+built on low posts and had an uncovered verandah. Close by the
+trunk of the tree, and facing the doorway of the hut, the
+household fire glowed in a small handful of embers in the midst
+of a large circle of white ashes. An old woman--some humble
+relation of one of Lakamba's wives, who had been ordered to
+attend on Aissa--was squatting over the fire and lifted up her
+bleared eyes to gaze at Babalatchi in an uninterested manner, as
+he advanced rapidly across the courtyard.
+
+Babalatchi took in the courtyard with a keen glance of his
+solitary eye, and without looking down at the old woman muttered
+a question. Silently, the woman stretched a tremulous and
+emaciated arm towards the hut. Babalatchi made a few steps
+towards the doorway, but stopped outside in the sunlight.
+
+"O! Tuan Omar, Omar besar! It is I--Babalatchi!"
+
+Within the hut there was a feeble groan, a fit of coughing and an
+indistinct murmur in the broken tones of a vague plaint.
+Encouraged evidently by those signs of dismal life within,
+Babalatchi entered the hut, and after some time came out leading
+with rigid carefulness the blind Omar, who followed with both his
+hands on his guide's shoulders. There was a rude seat under the
+tree, and there Babalatchi led his old chief, who sat down with a
+sigh of relief and leaned wearily against the rugged trunk. The
+rays of the setting sun, darting under the spreading branches,
+rested on the white-robed figure sitting with head thrown back in
+stiff dignity, on the thin hands moving uneasily, and on the
+stolid face with its eyelids dropped over the destroyed eyeballs;
+a face set into the immobility of a plaster cast yellowed by age.
+
+"Is the sun near its setting?" asked Omar, in a dull voice.
+
+"Very near," answered Babalatchi.
+
+"Where am I? Why have I been taken away from the place which I
+knew--where I, blind, could move without fear? It is like black
+night to those who see. And the sun is near its setting--and I
+have not heard the sound of her footsteps since the morning!
+Twice a strange hand has given me my food to-day. Why? Why?
+Where is she?"
+
+"She is near," said Babalatchi.
+
+"And he?" went on Omar, with sudden eagerness, and a drop in his
+voice. "Where is he? Not here. Not here!" he repeated, turning
+his head from side to side as if in deliberate attempt to see.
+
+"No! He is not here now," said Babalatchi, soothingly. Then,
+after a pause, he added very low, "But he shall soon return."
+
+"Return! O crafty one! Will he return? I have cursed him three
+times," exclaimed Omar, with weak violence.
+
+"He is--no doubt--accursed," assented Babalatchi, in a
+conciliating manner--"and yet he will be here before very long--I
+know!"
+
+"You are crafty and faithless. I have made you great. You were
+dirt under my feet--less than dirt," said Omar, with tremulous
+energy.
+
+"I have fought by your side many times," said Babalatchi, calmly.
+
+"Why did he come?" went on Omar. "Did you send him? Why did he
+come to defile the air I breathe--to mock at my fate--to poison
+her mind and steal her body? She has grown hard of heart to me.
+Hard and merciless and stealthy like rocks that tear a ship's
+life out under the smooth sea." He drew a long breath, struggled
+with his anger, then broke down suddenly. "I have been hungry,"
+he continued, in a whimpering tone--"often I have been very
+hungry--and cold--and neglected--and nobody near me. She has
+often forgotten me--and my sons are dead, and that man is an
+infidel and a dog. Why did he come? Did you show him the way?"
+
+"He found the way himself, O Leader of the brave," said
+Babalatchi, sadly. "I only saw a way for their destruction and
+our own greatness. And if I saw aright, then you shall never
+suffer from hunger any more. There shall be peace for us, and
+glory and riches."
+
+"And I shall die to-morrow," murmured Omar, bitterly.
+
+"Who knows? Those things have been written since the beginning
+of the world," whispered Babalatchi, thoughtfully.
+
+"Do not let him come back," exclaimed Omar.
+
+"Neither can he escape his fate," went on Babalatchi. "He shall
+come back, and the power of men we always hated, you and I, shall
+crumble into dust in our hand." Then he added with enthusiasm,
+"They shall fight amongst themselves and perish both."
+
+"And you shall see all this, while, I . . ."
+
+"True!" murmured Babalatchi, regretfully. "To you life is
+darkness."
+
+"No! Flame!" exclaimed the old Arab, half rising, then falling
+back in his seat. "The flame of that last day! I see it
+yet--the last thing I saw! And I hear the noise of the rent
+earth--when they all died. And I live to be the plaything of a
+crafty one," he added, with inconsequential peevishness.
+
+"You are my master still," said Babalatchi, humbly. "You are very
+wise--and in your wisdom you shall speak to Syed Abdulla when he
+comes here--you shall speak to him as I advised, I, your servant,
+the man who fought at your right hand for many years. I have
+heard by a messenger that the Syed Abdulla is coming to-night,
+perhaps late; for those things must be done secretly, lest the
+white man, the trader up the river, should know of them. But he
+will be here. There has been a surat delivered to Lakamba. In
+it, Syed Abdulla says he will leave his ship, which is anchored
+outside the river, at the hour of noon to-day. He will be here
+before daylight if Allah wills."
+
+He spoke with his eye fixed on the ground, and did not become
+aware of Aissa's presence till he lifted his head when he ceased
+speaking. She had approached so quietly that even Omar did not
+hear her footsteps, and she stood now looking at them with
+troubled eyes and parted lips, as if she was going to speak; but
+at Babalatchi's entreating gesture she remained silent. Omar sat
+absorbed in thought.
+
+"Ay wa! Even so!" he said at last, in a weak voice. "I am to
+speak your wisdom, O Babalatchi! Tell him to trust the white
+man! I do not understand. I am old and blind and weak. I do
+not understand. I am very cold," he continued, in a lower tone,
+moving his shoulders uneasily. He ceased, then went on rambling
+in a faint whisper. "They are the sons of witches, and their
+father is Satan the stoned. Sons of witches. Sons of witches."
+After a short silence he asked suddenly, in a firmer voice--"How
+many white men are there here, O crafty one?"
+
+"There are two here. Two white men to fight one another,"
+answered Babalatchi, with alacrity.
+
+"And how many will be left then? How many? Tell me, you who are
+wise."
+
+"The downfall of an enemy is the consolation of the unfortunate,"
+said Babalatchi, sententiously. "They are on every sea; only the
+wisdom of the Most High knows their number--but you shall know
+that some of them suffer."
+
+"Tell me, Babalatchi, will they die? Will they both die?" asked
+Omar, in sudden agitation.
+
+Aissa made a movement. Babalatchi held up a warning hand.
+
+"They shall, surely, die," he said steadily, looking at the girl
+with unflinching eye.
+
+"Ay wa! But die soon! So that I can pass my hand over their
+faces when Allah has made them stiff."
+
+"If such is their fate and yours," answered Babalatchi, without
+hesitation. "God is great!"
+
+A violent fit of coughing doubled Omar up, and he rocked himself
+to and fro, wheezing and moaning in turns, while Babalatchi and
+the girl looked at him in silence. Then he leaned back against
+the tree, exhausted.
+
+"I am alone, I am alone," he wailed feebly, groping vaguely about
+with his trembling hands. "Is there anybody near me? Is there
+anybody? I am afraid of this strange place."
+
+"I am by your side, O Leader of the brave," said Babalatchi,
+touching his shoulder lightly. "Always by your side as in the
+days when we both were young: as in the time when we both went
+with arms in our hands."
+
+"Has there been such a time, Babalatchi?" said Omar, wildly; "I
+have forgotten. And now when I die there will be no man, no
+fearless man to speak of his father's bravery. There was a
+woman! A woman! And she has forsaken me for an infidel dog.
+The hand of the Compassionate is heavy on my head! Oh, my
+calamity! Oh, my shame!"
+
+He calmed down after a while, and asked quietly--
+"Is the sun set, Babalatchi?"
+
+"It is now as low as the highest tree I can see from here,"
+answered Babalatchi.
+
+"It is the time of prayer," said Omar, attempting to get up.
+
+Dutifully Babalatchi helped his old chief to rise, and they
+walked slowly towards the hut. Omar waited outside, while
+Babalatchi went in and came out directly, dragging after him the
+old Arab's praying carpet. Out of a brass vessel he poured the
+water of ablution on Omar's outstretched hands, and eased him
+carefully down into a kneeling posture, for the venerable robber
+was far too infirm to be able to stand. Then as Omar droned out
+the first words and made his first bow towards the Holy City,
+Babalatchi stepped noiselessly towards Aissa, who did not move
+all the time.
+
+Aissa looked steadily at the one-eyed sage, who was approaching
+her slowly and with a great show of deference. For a moment they
+stood facing each other in silence. Babalatchi appeared
+embarrassed. With a sudden and quick gesture she caught hold of
+his arm, and with the other hand pointed towards the sinking red
+disc that glowed, rayless, through the floating mists of the
+evening.
+
+"The third sunset! The last! And he is not here," she
+whispered; "what have you done, man without faith? What have you
+done?"
+
+"Indeed I have kept my word," murmured Babalatchi, earnestly.
+"This morning Bulangi went with a canoe to look for him. He is a
+strange man, but our friend, and shall keep close to him and
+watch him without ostentation. And at the third hour of the day
+I have sent another canoe with four rowers. Indeed, the man you
+long for, O daughter of Omar! may come when he likes."
+
+"But he is not here! I waited for him yesterday. To-day!
+To-morrow I shall go."
+
+"Not alive!" muttered Babalatchi to himself. "And do you doubt
+your power," he went on in a louder tone--"you that to him are
+more beautiful than an houri of the seventh Heaven? He is your
+slave."
+
+"A slave does run away sometimes," she said, gloomily, "and then
+the master must go and seek him out."
+
+"And do you want to live and die a beggar?" asked Babalatchi,
+impatiently.
+
+"I care not," she exclaimed, wringing her hands; and the black
+pupils of her wide-open eyes darted wildly here and there like
+petrels before the storm.
+
+"Sh! Sh!" hissed Babalatchi, with a glance towards Omar. "Do
+you think, O girl! that he himself would live like a beggar, even
+with you?"
+
+"He is great," she said, ardently. "He despises you all! He
+despises you all! He is indeed a man!"
+
+"You know that best," muttered Babalatchi, with a fugitive
+smile--"but remember, woman with the strong heart, that to hold
+him now you must be to him like the great sea to thirsty men--a
+never-ceasing torment, and a madness."
+
+He ceased and they stood in silence, both looking on the ground,
+and for a time nothing was heard above the crackling of the fire
+but the intoning of Omar glorifying the God--his God, and the
+Faith--his faith. Then Babalatchi cocked his head on one side
+and appeared to listen intently to the hum of voices in the big
+courtyard. The dull noise swelled into distinct shouts, then
+into a great tumult of voices, dying away, recommencing, growing
+louder, to cease again abruptly; and in those short pauses the
+shrill vociferations of women rushed up, as if released, towards
+the quiet heaven. Aissa and Babalatchi started, but the latter
+gripped in his turn the girl's arm and restrained her with a
+strong grasp.
+
+"Wait," he whispered.
+
+The little door in the heavy stockade which separated Lakamba's
+private ground from Omar's enclosure swung back quickly, and the
+noble exile appeared with disturbed mien and a naked short sword
+in his hand. His turban was half unrolled, and the end trailed
+on the ground behind him. His jacket was open. He breathed
+thickly for a moment before he spoke.
+
+"He came in Bulangi's boat," he said, "and walked quietly till he
+was in my presence, when the senseless fury of white men caused
+him to rush upon me. I have been in great danger," went on the
+ambitious nobleman in an aggrieved tone. "Do you hear that,
+Babalatchi? That eater of swine aimed a blow at my face with his
+unclean fist. He tried to rush amongst my household. Six men
+are holding him now."
+
+A fresh outburst of yells stopped Lakamba's discourse. Angry
+voices shouted: "Hold him. Beat him down. Strike at his head."
+
+Then the clamour ceased with sudden completeness, as if strangled
+by a mighty hand, and after a second of surprising silence the
+voice of Willems was heard alone, howling maledictions in Malay,
+in Dutch, and in English.
+
+"Listen," said Lakamba, speaking with unsteady lips, "he
+blasphemes his God. His speech is like the raving of a mad dog.
+Can we hold him for ever? He must be killed!"
+
+"Fool!" muttered Babalatchi, looking up at Aissa, who stood with
+set teeth, with gleaming eyes and distended nostrils, yet
+obedient to the touch of his restraining hand. "It is the third
+day, and I have kept my promise," he said to her, speaking very
+low. "Remember," he added warningly--"like the sea to the
+thirsty! And now," he said aloud, releasing her and stepping
+back, "go, fearless daughter, go!"
+
+Like an arrow, rapid and silent she flew down the enclosure, and
+disappeared through the gate of the courtyard. Lakamba and
+Babalatchi looked after her. They heard the renewed tumult, the
+girl's clear voice calling out, "Let him go!" Then after a pause
+in the din no longer than half the human breath the name of Aissa
+rang in a shout loud, discordant, and piercing, which sent
+through them an involuntary shudder. Old Omar collapsed on his
+carpet and moaned feebly; Lakamba stared with gloomy contempt in
+the direction of the inhuman sound; but Babalatchi, forcing a
+smile, pushed his distinguished protector through the narrow gate
+in the stockade, followed him, and closed it quickly.
+
+The old woman, who had been most of the time kneeling by the
+fire, now rose, glanced round fearfully and crouched hiding
+behind the tree. The gate of the great courtyard flew open with
+a great clatter before a frantic kick, and Willems darted in
+carrying Aissa in his arms. He rushed up the enclosure like a
+tornado, pressing the girl to his breast, her arms round his
+neck, her head hanging back over his arm, her eyes closed and her
+long hair nearly touching the ground. They appeared for a second
+in the glare of the fire, then, with immense strides, he dashed
+up the planks and disappeared with his burden in the doorway of
+the big house.
+
+Inside and outside the enclosure there was silence. Omar lay
+supporting himself on his elbow, his terrified face with its
+closed eyes giving him the appearance of a man tormented by a
+nightmare.
+
+"What is it? Help! Help me to rise!" he called out faintly.
+
+The old hag, still crouching in the shadow, stared with bleared
+eyes at the doorway of the big house, and took no notice of his
+call. He listened for a while, then his arm gave way, and, with
+a deep sigh of discouragement, he let himself fall on the carpet.
+
+The boughs of the tree nodded and trembled in the unsteady
+currents of the light wind. A leaf fluttered down slowly from
+some high branch and rested on the ground, immobile, as if
+resting for ever, in the glow of the fire; but soon it stirred,
+then soared suddenly, and flew, spinning and turning before the
+breath of the perfumed breeze, driven helplessly into the dark
+night that had closed over the land.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+
+For upwards of forty years Abdulla had walked in the way of his
+Lord. Son of the rich Syed Selim bin Sali, the great Mohammedan
+trader of the Straits, he went forth at the age of seventeen on
+his first commercial expedition, as his father's representative
+on board a pilgrim ship chartered by the wealthy Arab to convey a
+crowd of pious Malays to the Holy Shrine. That was in the days
+when steam was not in those seas--or, at least, not so much as
+now. The voyage was long, and the young man's eyes were opened
+to the wonders of many lands. Allah had made it his fate to
+become a pilgrim very early in life. This was a great favour of
+Heaven, and it could not have been bestowed upon a man who prized
+it more, or who made himself more worthy of it by the unswerving
+piety of his heart and by the religious solemnity of his
+demeanour. Later on it became clear that the book of his destiny
+contained the programme of a wandering life. He visited Bombay
+and Calcutta, looked in at the Persian Gulf, beheld in due course
+the high and barren coasts of the Gulf of Suez, and this was the
+limit of his wanderings westward. He was then twenty-seven, and
+the writing on his forehead decreed that the time had come for
+him to return to the Straits and take from his dying father's
+hands the many threads of a business that was spread over all the
+Archipelago: from Sumatra to New Guinea, from Batavia to Palawan.
+
+Very soon his ability, his will--strong to obstinacy--his wisdom
+beyond his years, caused him to be recognized as the head of a
+family whose members and connections were found in every part of
+those seas. An uncle here--a brother there; a father-in-law in
+Batavia, another in Palembang; husbands of numerous sisters;
+cousins innumerable scattered north, south, east, and west--in
+every place where there was trade: the great family lay like a
+network over the islands. They lent money to princes, influenced
+the council-rooms, faced--if need be--with peaceful intrepidity
+the white rulers who held the land and the sea under the edge of
+sharp swords; and they all paid great deference to Abdulla,
+listened to his advice, entered into his plans--because he was
+wise, pious, and fortunate.
+
+He bore himself with the humility becoming a Believer, who never
+forgets, even for one moment of his waking life, that he is the
+servant of the Most High. He was largely charitable because the
+charitable man is the friend of Allah, and when he walked out of
+his house--built of stone, just outside the town of Penang--on
+his way to his godowns in the port, he had often to snatch his
+hand away sharply from under the lips of men of his race and
+creed; and often he had to murmur deprecating words, or even to
+rebuke with severity those who attempted to touch his knees with
+their finger-tips in gratitude or supplication. He was very
+handsome, and carried his small head high with meek gravity. His
+lofty brow, straight nose, narrow, dark face with its chiselled
+delicacy of feature, gave him an aristocratic appearance which
+proclaimed his pure descent. His beard was trimmed close and to
+a rounded point. His large brown eyes looked out steadily with a
+sweetness that was belied by the expression of his thin-lipped
+mouth. His aspect was serene. He had a belief in his own
+prosperity which nothing could shake.
+
+Restless, like all his people, he very seldom dwelt for many days
+together in his splendid house in Penang. Owner of ships, he was
+often on board one or another of them, traversing in all
+directions the field of his operations. In every port he had a
+household--his own or that of a relation--to hail his advent with
+demonstrative joy. In every port there were rich and influential
+men eager to see him, there was business to talk over, there were
+important letters to read: an immense correspondence, enclosed
+in silk envelopes--a correspondence which had nothing to do with
+the infidels of colonial post-offices, but came into his hands by
+devious, yet safe, ways. It was left for him by taciturn
+nakhodas of native trading craft, or was delivered with profound
+salaams by travel-stained and weary men who would withdraw from
+his presence calling upon Allah to bless the generous giver of
+splendid rewards. And the news was always good, and all his
+attempts always succeeded, and in his ears there rang always a
+chorus of admiration, of gratitude, of humble entreaties.
+
+A fortunate man. And his felicity was so complete that the good
+genii, who ordered the stars at his birth, had not neglected--by
+a refinement of benevolence strange in such primitive beings--to
+provide him with a desire difficult to attain, and with an enemy
+hard to overcome. The envy of Lingard's political and commercial
+successes, and the wish to get the best of him in every way,
+became Abdulla's mania, the paramount interest of his life, the
+salt of his existence.
+
+For the last few months he had been receiving mysterious messages
+from Sambir urging him to decisive action. He had found the
+river a couple of years ago, and had been anchored more than once
+off that estuary where the, till then, rapid Pantai, spreading
+slowly over the lowlands, seems to hesitate, before it flows
+gently through twenty outlets; over a maze of mudflats, sandbanks
+and reefs, into the expectant sea. He had never attempted the
+entrance, however, because men of his race, although brave and
+adventurous travellers, lack the true seamanlike instincts, and
+he was afraid of getting wrecked. He could not bear the idea of
+the Rajah Laut being able to boast that Abdulla bin Selim, like
+other and lesser men, had also come to grief when trying to wrest
+his secret from him. Meantime he returned encouraging answers to
+his unknown friends in Sambir, and waited for his opportunity in
+the calm certitude of ultimate triumph.
+
+Such was the man whom Lakamba and Babalatchi expected to see for
+the first time on the night of Willems' return to Aissa.
+Babalatchi, who had been tormented for three days by the fear of
+having over-reached himself in his little plot, now, feeling sure
+of his white man, felt lighthearted and happy as he superintended
+the preparations in the courtyard for Abdulla's reception.
+Half-way between Lakamba's house and the river a pile of dry wood
+was made ready for the torch that would set fire to it at the
+moment of Abdulla's landing. Between this and the house again
+there was, ranged in a semicircle, a set of low bamboo frames,
+and on those were piled all the carpets and cushions of Lakamba's
+household. It had been decided that the reception was to take
+place in the open air, and that it should be made impressive by
+the great number of Lakamba's retainers, who, clad in clean
+white, with their red sarongs gathered round their waists,
+chopper at side and lance in hand, were moving about the compound
+or, gathering into small knots, discussed eagerly the coming
+ceremony.
+
+Two little fires burned brightly on the water's edge on each side
+of the landing place. A small heap of damar-gum torches lay by
+each, and between them Babalatchi strolled backwards and
+forwards, stopping often with his face to the river and his head
+on one side, listening to the sounds that came from the darkness
+over the water. There was no moon and the night was very clear
+overhead, but, after the afternoon breeze had expired in fitful
+puffs, the vapours hung thickening over the glancing surface of
+the Pantai and clung to the shore, hiding from view the middle of
+the stream.
+
+A cry in the mist--then another--and, before Babalatchi could
+answer, two little canoes dashed up to the landing-place, and two
+of the principal citizens of Sambir, Daoud Sahamin and Hamet
+Bahassoen, who had been confidentially invited to meet Abdulla,
+landed quickly and after greeting Babalatchi walked up the dark
+courtyard towards the house. The little stir caused by their
+arrival soon subsided, and another silent hour dragged its slow
+length while Babalatchi tramped up and down between the fires,
+his face growing more anxious with every passing moment.
+
+At last there was heard a loud hail from down the river. At a
+call from Babalatchi men ran down to the riverside and, snatching
+the torches, thrust them into the fires, then waved them above
+their heads till they burst into a flame. The smoke ascended in
+thick, wispy streams, and hung in a ruddy cloud above the glare
+that lit up the courtyard and flashed over the water, showing
+three long canoes manned by many paddlers lying a little off; the
+men in them lifting their paddles on high and dipping them down
+together, in an easy stroke that kept the small flotilla
+motionless in the strong current, exactly abreast of the landing-
+place. A man stood up in the largest craft and called out--
+
+"Syed Abdulla bin Selim is here!"
+
+Babalatchi answered aloud in a formal tone--
+
+"Allah gladdens our hearts! Come to the land!"
+
+Abdulla landed first, steadying himself by the help of
+Babalatchi's extended hand. In the short moment of his passing
+from the boat to the shore they exchanged sharp glances and a few
+rapid words.
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"Babalatchi. The friend of Omar. The protected of Lakamba."
+
+"You wrote?"
+
+"My words were written, O Giver of alms!"
+
+And then Abdulla walked with composed face between the two lines
+of men holding torches, and met Lakamba in front of the big fire
+that was crackling itself up into a great blaze. For a moment
+they stood with clasped hands invoking peace upon each other's
+head, then Lakamba, still holding his honoured guest by the hand,
+led him round the fire to the prepared seats. Babalatchi
+followed close behind his protector. Abdulla was accompanied by
+two Arabs. He, like his companions, was dressed in a white robe
+of starched muslin, which fell in stiff folds straight from the
+neck. It was buttoned from the throat halfway down with a close
+row of very small gold buttons; round the tight sleeves there was
+a narrow braid of gold lace. On his shaven head he wore a small
+skull-cap of plaited grass. He was shod in patent leather
+slippers over his naked feet. A rosary of heavy wooden beads
+hung by a round turn from his right wrist. He sat down slowly in
+the place of honour, and, dropping his slippers, tucked up his
+legs under him decorously.
+
+The improvised divan was arranged in a wide semi-circle, of which
+the point most distant from the fire--some ten yards--was also
+the nearest to Lakamba's dwelling. As soon as the principal
+personages were seated, the verandah of the house was filled
+silently by the muffled-up forms of Lakamba's female belongings.
+They crowded close to the rail and looked down, whispering
+faintly. Below, the formal exchange of compliments went on for
+some time between Lakamba and Abdulla, who sat side by side.
+Babalatchi squatted humbly at his protector's feet, with nothing
+but a thin mat between himself and the hard ground.
+
+Then there was a pause. Abdulla glanced round in an expectant
+manner, and after a while Babalatchi, who had been sitting very
+still in a pensive attitude, seemed to rouse himself with an
+effort, and began to speak in gentle and persuasive tones. He
+described in flowing sentences the first beginnings of Sambir,
+the dispute of the present ruler, Patalolo, with the Sultan of
+Koti, the consequent troubles ending with the rising of Bugis
+settlers under the leadership of Lakamba. At different points of
+the narrative he would turn for confirmation to Sahamin and
+Bahassoen, who sat listening eagerly and assented together with a
+"Betul! Betul! Right! Right!" ejaculated in a fervent
+undertone.
+
+Warming up with his subject as the narrative proceeded,
+Babalatchi went on to relate the facts connected with Lingard's
+action at the critical period of those internal dissensions. He
+spoke in a restrained voice still, but with a growing energy of
+indignation. What was he, that man of fierce aspect, to keep all
+the world away from them? Was he a government? Who made him
+ruler? He took possession of Patalolo's mind and made his heart
+hard; he put severe words into his mouth and caused his hand to
+strike right and left. That unbeliever kept the Faithful panting
+under the weight of his senseless oppression. They had to trade
+with him--accept such goods as he would give--such credit as he
+would accord. And he exacted payment every year . . .
+
+"Very true!" exclaimed Sahamin and Bahassoen together.
+
+Babalatchi glanced at them approvingly and turned to Abdulla.
+
+"Listen to those men, O Protector of the oppressed!" he
+exclaimed. "What could we do? A man must trade. There was
+nobody else."
+
+Sahamin got up, staff in hand, and spoke to Abdulla with
+ponderous courtesy, emphasizing his words by the solemn
+flourishes of his right arm.
+
+"It is so. We are weary of paying our debts to that white man
+here, who is the son of the Rajah Laut. That white man--may the
+grave of his mother be defiled!--is not content to hold us all in
+his hand with a cruel grasp. He seeks to cause our very death.
+He trades with the Dyaks of the forest, who are no better than
+monkeys. He buys from them guttah and rattans--while we starve.
+Only two days ago I went to him and said, 'Tuan Almayer'--even
+so; we must speak politely to that friend of Satan--'Tuan
+Almayer, I have such and such goods to sell. Will you buy?' And
+he spoke thus--because those white men have no understanding of
+any courtesy--he spoke to me as if I was a slave: 'Daoud, you are
+a lucky man'--remark, O First amongst the Believers! that by
+those words he could have brought misfortune on my head--'you are
+a lucky man to have anything in these hard times. Bring your
+goods quickly, and I shall receive them in payment of what you
+owe me from last year.' And he laughed, and struck me on the
+shoulder with his open hand. May Jehannum be his lot!"
+
+"We will fight him," said young Bahassoen, crisply. "We shall
+fight if there is help and a leader. Tuan Abdulla, will you come
+among us?"
+
+Abdulla did not answer at once. His lips moved in an inaudible
+whisper and the beads passed through his fingers with a dry
+click. All waited in respectful silence. "I shall come if my
+ship can enter this river," said Abdulla at last, in a solemn
+tone.
+
+"It can, Tuan," exclaimed Babalatchi. "There is a white man here
+who . . ."
+
+"I want to see Omar el Badavi and that white man you wrote
+about," interrupted Abdulla.
+
+Babalatchi got on his feet quickly, and there was a general move.
+
+The women on the verandah hurried indoors, and from the crowd
+that had kept discreetly in distant parts of the courtyard a
+couple of men ran with armfuls of dry fuel, which they cast upon
+the fire. One of them, at a sign from Babalatchi, approached
+and, after getting his orders, went towards the little gate and
+entered Omar's enclosure. While waiting for his return, Lakamba,
+Abdulla, and Babalatchi talked together in low tones. Sahamin
+sat by himself chewing betel-nut sleepily with a slight and
+indolent motion of his heavy jaw. Bahassoen, his hand on the
+hilt of his short sword, strutted backwards and forwards in the
+full light of the fire, looking very warlike and reckless; the
+envy and admiration of Lakamba's retainers, who stood in groups
+or flitted about noiselessly in the shadows of the courtyard.
+
+The messenger who had been sent to Omar came back and stood at a
+distance, waiting till somebody noticed him. Babalatchi beckoned
+him close.
+
+"What are his words?" asked Babalatchi.
+
+"He says that Syed Abdulla is welcome now," answered the man.
+
+Lakamba was speaking low to Abdulla, who listened to him with
+deep interest.
+
+". . . We could have eighty men if there was need," he was
+saying--"eighty men in fourteen canoes. The only thing we want is
+gunpowder . . ."
+
+"Hai! there will be no fighting," broke in Babalatchi. "The fear
+of your name will be enough and the terror of your coming."
+
+"There may be powder too," muttered Abdulla with great
+nonchalance, "if only the ship enters the river safely."
+
+"If the heart is stout the ship will be safe," said Babalatchi.
+"We will go now and see Omar el Badavi and the white man I have
+here."
+
+Lakamba's dull eyes became animated suddenly.
+
+"Take care, Tuan Abdulla," he said, "take care. The behaviour of
+that unclean white madman is furious in the extreme. He offered
+to strike . . ."
+
+"On my head, you are safe, O Giver of alms!" interrupted
+Babalatchi.
+
+Abdulla looked from one to the other, and the faintest flicker of
+a passing smile disturbed for a moment his grave composure. He
+turned to Babalatchi, and said with decision--
+
+"Let us go."
+
+"This way, O Uplifter of our hearts!" rattled on Babalatchi, with
+fussy deference. "Only a very few paces and you shall behold
+Omar the brave, and a white man of great strength and cunning.
+This way."
+
+He made a sign for Lakamba to remain behind, and with respectful
+touches on the elbow steered Abdulla towards the gate at the
+upper end of the court-yard. As they walked on slowly, followed
+by the two Arabs, he kept on talking in a rapid undertone to the
+great man, who never looked at him once, although appearing to
+listen with flattering attention. When near the gate Babalatchi
+moved forward and stopped, facing Abdulla, with his hand on the
+fastenings.
+
+"You shall see them both," he said. "All my words about them are
+true. When I saw him enslaved by the one of whom I spoke, I knew
+he would be soft in my hand like the mud of the river. At first
+he answered my talk with bad words of his own language, after the
+manner of white men. Afterwards, when listening to the voice he
+loved, he hesitated. He hesitated for many days--too many. I,
+knowing him well, made Omar withdraw here with his . . .
+household. Then this red-faced man raged for three days like a
+black panther that is hungry. And this evening, this very
+evening, he came. I have him here. He is in the grasp of one
+with a merciless heart. I have him here," ended Babalatchi,
+exultingly tapping the upright of the gate with his hand.
+
+"That is good," murmured Abdulla.
+
+"And he shall guide your ship and lead in the fight--if fight
+there be," went on Babalatchi. "If there is any killing--let him
+be the slayer. You should give him arms--a short gun that fires
+many times."
+
+"Yes, by Allah!" assented Abdulla, with slow thoughtfulness.
+
+"And you will have to open your hand, O First amongst the
+generous!" continued Babalatchi. "You will have to satisfy the
+rapacity of a white man, and also of one who is not a man, and
+therefore greedy of ornaments."
+
+"They shall be satisfied," said Abdulla; "but . . ." He
+hesitated, looking down on the ground and stroking his beard,
+while Babalatchi waited, anxious, with parted lips. After a
+short time he spoke again jerkily in an indistinct whisper, so
+that Babalatchi had to turn his head to catch the words. "Yes.
+But Omar is the son of my father's uncle . . . and all belonging
+to him are of the Faith . . . while that man is an unbeliever.
+It is most unseemly . . . very unseemly. He cannot live under my
+shadow. Not that dog. Penitence! I take refuge with my God,"
+he mumbled rapidly. "How can he live under my eyes with that
+woman, who is of the Faith? Scandal! O abomination!"
+
+He finished with a rush and drew a long breath, then added
+dubiously--
+
+"And when that man has done all we want, what is to be done with
+him?"
+
+They stood close together, meditative and silent, their eyes
+roaming idly over the courtyard. The big bonfire burned
+brightly, and a wavering splash of light lay on the dark earth at
+their feet, while the lazy smoke wreathed itself slowly in
+gleaming coils amongst the black boughs of the trees. They could
+see Lakamba, who had returned to his place, sitting hunched up
+spiritlessly on the cushions, and Sahamin, who had got on his
+feet again and appeared to be talking to him with dignified
+animation. Men in twos or threes came out of the shadows into
+the light, strolling slowly, and passed again into the shadows,
+their faces turned to each other, their arms moving in restrained
+gestures. Bahassoen, his head proudly thrown back, his
+ornaments, embroideries, and sword-hilt flashing in the light,
+circled steadily round the fire like a planet round the sun. A
+cool whiff of damp air came from the darkness of the riverside;
+it made Abdulla and Babalatchi shiver, and woke them up from
+their abstraction.
+
+"Open the gate and go first," said Abdulla; "there is no danger?"
+
+"On my life, no!" answered Babalatchi, lifting the rattan ring.
+"He is all peace and content, like a thirsty man who has drunk
+water after many days."
+
+He swung the gate wide, made a few paces into the gloom of the
+enclosure, and retraced his steps suddenly.
+
+"He may be made useful in many ways," he whispered to Abdulla,
+who had stopped short, seeing him come back.
+
+"O Sin! O Temptation!" sighed out Abdulla, faintly. "Our refuge
+is with the Most High. Can I feed this infidel for ever and for
+ever?" he added, impatiently.
+
+"No," breathed out Babalatchi. "No! Not for ever. Only while
+he serves your designs, O Dispenser of Allah's gifts! When the
+time comes--and your order . . ."
+
+He sidled close to Abdulla, and brushed with a delicate touch the
+hand that hung down listlessly, holding the prayer-beads.
+
+"I am your slave and your offering," he murmured, in a distinct
+and polite tone, into Abdulla's ear. "When your wisdom speaks,
+there may be found a little poison that will not lie. Who
+knows?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+
+Babalatchi saw Abdulla pass through the low and narrow entrance
+into the darkness of Omar's hut; heard them exchange the usual
+greetings and the distinguished visitor's grave voice asking:
+"There is no misfortune--please God--but the sight?" and then,
+becoming aware of the disapproving looks of the two Arabs who had
+accompanied Abdulla, he followed their example and fell back out
+of earshot. He did it unwillingly, although he did not ignore
+that what was going to happen in there was now absolutely beyond
+his control. He roamed irresolutely about for awhile, and at
+last wandered with careless steps towards the fire, which had
+been moved, from under the tree, close to the hut and a little to
+windward of its entrance. He squatted on his heels and began
+playing pensively with live embers, as was his habit when
+engrossed in thought, withdrawing his hand sharply and shaking it
+above his head when he burnt his fingers in a fit of deeper
+abstraction. Sitting there he could hear the murmur of the talk
+inside the hut, and he could distinguish the voices but not the
+words. Abdulla spoke in deep tones, and now and then this
+flowing monotone was interrupted by a querulous exclamation, a
+weak moan or a plaintive quaver of the old man. Yes. It was
+annoying not to be able to make out what they were saying,
+thought Babalatchi, as he sat gazing fixedly at the unsteady glow
+of the fire. But it will be right. All will be right. Abdulla
+inspired him with confidence. He came up fully to his
+expectation. From the very first moment when he set his eye on
+him he felt sure that this man--whom he had known by reputation
+only--was very resolute. Perhaps too resolute. Perhaps he would
+want to grasp too much later on. A shadow flitted over
+Babalatchi's face. On the eve of the accomplishment of his
+desires he felt the bitter taste of that drop of doubt which is
+mixed with the sweetness of every success.
+
+When, hearing footsteps on the verandah of the big house, he
+lifted his head, the shadow had passed away and on his face there
+was an expression of watchful alertness. Willems was coming down
+the plankway, into the courtyard. The light within trickled
+through the cracks of the badly joined walls of the house, and in
+the illuminated doorway appeared the moving form of Aissa. She
+also passed into the night outside and disappeared from view.
+Babalatchi wondered where she had got to, and for the moment
+forgot the approach of Willems. The voice of the white man
+speaking roughly above his head made him jump to his feet as if
+impelled upwards by a powerful spring.
+
+"Where's Abdulla?"
+
+Babalatchi waved his hand towards the hut and stood listening
+intently. The voices within had ceased, then recommenced again.
+He shot an oblique glance at Willems, whose indistinct form
+towered above the glow of dying embers.
+
+"Make up this fire," said Willems, abruptly. "I want to see your
+face."
+
+With obliging alacrity Babalatchi put some dry brushwood on the
+coals from a handy pile, keeping all the time a watchful eye on
+Willems. When he straightened himself up his hand wandered
+almost involuntarily towards his left side to feel the handle of
+a kriss amongst the folds of his sarong, but he tried to look
+unconcerned under the angry stare.
+
+"You are in good health, please God?" he murmured.
+
+"Yes!" answered Willems, with an unexpected loudness that caused
+Babalatchi to start nervously. "Yes! . . . Health! . . . You .
+. ."
+
+He made a long stride and dropped both his hands on the Malay's
+shoulders. In the powerful grip Babalatchi swayed to and fro
+limply, but his face was as peaceful as when he sat--a little
+while ago--dreaming by the fire. With a final vicious jerk
+Willems let go suddenly, and turning away on his heel stretched
+his hands over the fire. Babalatchi stumbled backwards,
+recovered himself, and wriggled his shoulders laboriously.
+
+"Tse! Tse! Tse!" he clicked, deprecatingly. After a short
+silence he went on with accentuated admiration: "What a man it
+is! What a strong man! A man like that"--he concluded, in a
+tone of meditative wonder--"a man like that could upset
+mountains--mountains!"
+
+He gazed hopefully for a while at Willems' broad shoulders, and
+continued, addressing the inimical back, in a low and persuasive
+voice--
+
+"But why be angry with me? With me who think only of your good?
+Did I not give her refuge, in my own house? Yes, Tuan! This is
+my own house. I will let you have it without any recompense
+because she must have a shelter. Therefore you and she shall
+live here. Who can know a woman's mind? And such a woman! If
+she wanted to go away from that other place, who am I--to say no!
+
+I am Omar's servant. I said: 'Gladden my heart by taking my
+house.' Did I say right?"
+
+"I'll tell you something," said Willems, without changing his
+position; "if she takes a fancy to go away from this place it is
+you who shall suffer. I will wring your neck."
+
+"When the heart is full of love there is no room in it for
+justice," recommenced Babalatchi, with unmoved and persistent
+softness. "Why slay me? You know, Tuan, what she wants. A
+splendid destiny is her desire--as of all women. You have been
+wronged and cast out by your people. She knows that. But you
+are brave, you are strong--you are a man; and, Tuan--I am older
+than you--you are in her hand. Such is the fate of strong men.
+And she is of noble birth and cannot live like a slave. You know
+her--and you are in her hand. You are like a snared bird,
+because of your strength. And--remember I am a man that has seen
+much--submit, Tuan! Submit! . . . Or else . . ."
+
+He drawled out the last words in a hesitating manner and broke
+off his sentence. Still stretching his hands in turns towards
+the blaze and without moving his head, Willems gave a short,
+lugubrious laugh, and asked--
+
+"Or else what?"
+
+"She may go away again. Who knows?" finished Babalatchi, in a
+gentle and insinuating tone.
+
+This time Willems spun round sharply. Babalatchi stepped back.
+
+"If she does it will be the worse for you," said Willems, in a
+menacing voice. "It will be your doing, and I . . ."
+
+Babalatchi spoke, from beyond the circle of light, with calm
+disdain.
+
+"Hai--ya! I have heard before. If she goes--then I die. Good!
+Will that bring her back do you think--Tuan? If it is my doing
+it shall be well done, O white man! and--who knows--you will have
+to live without her."
+
+Willems gasped and started back like a confident wayfarer who,
+pursuing a path he thinks safe, should see just in time a
+bottomless chasm under his feet. Babalatchi came into the light
+and approached Willems sideways, with his head thrown back and a
+little on one side so as to bring his only eye to bear full on
+the countenance of the tall white man.
+
+"You threaten me," said Willems, indistinctly.
+
+"I, Tuan!" exclaimed Babalatchi, with a slight suspicion of irony
+in the affected surprise of his tone. "I, Tuan? Who spoke of
+death? Was it I? No! I spoke of life only. Only of life. Of a
+long life for a lonely man!"
+
+They stood with the fire between them, both silent, both aware,
+each in his own way, of the importance of the passing minutes.
+Babalatchi's fatalism gave him only an insignificant relief in
+his suspense, because no fatalism can kill the thought of the
+future, the desire of success, the pain of waiting for the
+disclosure of the immutable decrees of Heaven. Fatalism is born
+of the fear of failure, for we all believe that we carry success
+in our own hands, and we suspect that our hands are weak.
+Babalatchi looked at Willems and congratulated himself upon his
+ability to manage that white man. There was a pilot for
+Abdulla--a victim to appease Lingard's anger in case of any
+mishap. He would take good care to put him forward in
+everything. In any case let the white men fight it out amongst
+themselves. They were fools. He hated them--the strong
+fools--and knew that for his righteous wisdom was reserved the
+safe triumph.
+
+Willems measured dismally the depth of his degradation. He--a
+white man, the admired of white men, was held by those miserable
+savages whose tool he was about to become. He felt for them all
+the hate of his race, of his morality, of his intelligence. He
+looked upon himself with dismay and pity. She had him. He had
+heard of such things. He had heard of women who . . . He would
+never believe such stories. . . . Yet they were true. But his
+own captivity seemed more complete, terrible, and final--without
+the hope of any redemption. He wondered at the wickedness of
+Providence that had made him what he was; that, worse still,
+permitted such a creature as Almayer to live. He had done his
+duty by going to him. Why did he not understand? All men were
+fools. He gave him his chance. The fellow did not see it. It
+was hard, very hard on himself--Willems. He wanted to take her
+from amongst her own people. That's why he had condescended to
+go to Almayer. He examined himself. With a sinking heart he
+thought that really he could not--somehow--live without her. It
+was terrible and sweet. He remembered the first days. Her
+appearance, her face, her smile, her eyes, her words. A savage
+woman! Yet he perceived that he could think of nothing else but
+of the three days of their separation, of the few hours since
+their reunion. Very well. If he could not take her away, then
+he would go to her. . . . He had, for a moment, a wicked
+pleasure in the thought that what he had done could not be
+undone. He had given himself up. He felt proud of it. He was
+ready to face anything, do anything. He cared for nothing, for
+nobody. He thought himself very fearless, but as a matter of
+fact he was only drunk; drunk with the poison of passionate
+memories.
+
+He stretched his hands over the fire, looked round and called
+out--
+
+"Aissa!"
+
+She must have been near, for she appeared at once within the
+light of the fire. The upper part of her body was wrapped up in
+the thick folds of a head covering which was pulled down over her
+brow, and one end of it thrown across from shoulder to shoulder
+hid the lower part of her face. Only her eyes were visible--
+sombre and gleaming like a starry night.
+
+Willems, looking at this strange, muffled figure, felt
+exasperated, amazed and helpless. The ex-confidential clerk of
+the rich Hudig would hug to his breast settled conceptions of
+respectable conduct. He sought refuge within his ideas of
+propriety from the dismal mangroves, from the darkness of the
+forests and of the heathen souls of the savages that were his
+masters. She looked like an animated package of cheap cotton
+goods! It made him furious. She had disguised herself so
+because a man of her race was near! He told her not to do it,
+and she did not obey. Would his ideas ever change so as to agree
+with her own notions of what was becoming, proper and
+respectable? He was really afraid they would, in time. It
+seemed to him awful. She would never change! This manifestation
+of her sense of proprieties was another sign of their hopeless
+diversity; something like another step downwards for him. She
+was too different from him. He was so civilized! It struck him
+suddenly that they had nothing in common--not a thought, not a
+feeling; he could not make clear to her the simplest motive of
+any act of his . . . and he could not live without her.
+
+The courageous man who stood facing Babalatchi gasped
+unexpectedly with a gasp that was half a groan. This little
+matter of her veiling herself against his wish acted upon him
+like a disclosure of some great disaster. It increased his
+contempt for himself as the slave of a passion he had always
+derided, as the man unable to assert his will. This will, all
+his sensations, his personality--all this seemed to be lost in
+the abominable desire, in the priceless promise of that woman.
+He was not, of course, able to discern clearly the causes of his
+misery; but there are none so ignorant as not to know suffering,
+none so simple as not to feel and suffer from the shock of
+warring impulses. The ignorant must feel and suffer from their
+complexity as well as the wisest; but to them the pain of
+struggle and defeat appears strange, mysterious, remediable and
+unjust. He stood watching her, watching himself. He tingled
+with rage from head to foot, as if he had been struck in the
+face. Suddenly he laughed; but his laugh was like a distorted
+echo of some insincere mirth very far away.
+
+From the other side of the fire Babalatchi spoke hurriedly--
+
+"Here is Tuan Abdulla."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+
+Directly on stepping outside Omar's hut Abdulla caught sight of
+Willems. He expected, of course, to see a white man, but not
+that white man, whom he knew so well. Everybody who traded in
+the islands, and who had any dealings with Hudig, knew Willems.
+For the last two years of his stay in Macassar the confidential
+clerk had been managing all the local trade of the house under a
+very slight supervision only on the part of the master. So
+everybody knew Willems, Abdulla amongst others--but he was
+ignorant of Willems' disgrace. As a matter of fact the thing had
+been kept very quiet--so quiet that a good many people in
+Macassar were expecting Willems' return there, supposing him to
+be absent on some confidential mission. Abdulla, in his
+surprise, hesitated on the threshold. He had prepared himself to
+see some seaman--some old officer of Lingard's; a common man--
+perhaps difficult to deal with, but still no match for him.
+Instead, he saw himself confronted by an individual whose
+reputation for sagacity in business was well known to him. How
+did he get here, and why? Abdulla, recovering from his surprise,
+advanced in a dignified manner towards the fire, keeping his eyes
+fixed steadily on Willems. When within two paces from Willems he
+stopped and lifted his right hand in grave salutation. Willems
+nodded slightly and spoke after a while.
+
+"We know each other, Tuan Abdulla," he said, with an assumption
+of easy indifference.
+
+"We have traded together," answered Abdulla, solemnly, "but it
+was far from here."
+
+"And we may trade here also," said Willems.
+
+"The place does not matter. It is the open mind and the true
+heart that are required in business."
+
+"Very true. My heart is as open as my mind. I will tell you why
+I am here."
+
+"What need is there? In leaving home one learns life. You
+travel. Travelling is victory! You shall return with much
+wisdom."
+
+"I shall never return," interrupted Willems. "I have done with
+my people. I am a man without brothers. Injustice destroys
+fidelity."
+
+Abdulla expressed his surprise by elevating his eyebrows. At the
+same time he made a vague gesture with his arm that could be
+taken as an equivalent of an approving and conciliating "just
+so!"
+
+Till then the Arab had not taken any notice of Aissa, who stood
+by the fire, but now she spoke in the interval of silence
+following Willems' declaration. In a voice that was much
+deadened by her wrappings she addressed Abdulla in a few words of
+greeting, calling him a kinsman. Abdulla glanced at her swiftly
+for a second, and then, with perfect good breeding, fixed his
+eyes on the ground. She put out towards him her hand, covered
+with a corner of her face-veil, and he took it, pressed it twice,
+and dropping it turned towards Willems. She looked at the two
+men searchingly, then backed away and seemed to melt suddenly
+into the night.
+
+"I know what you came for, Tuan Abdulla," said Willems; "I have
+been told by that man there." He nodded towards Babalatchi, then
+went on slowly, "It will be a difficult thing."
+
+"Allah makes everything easy," interjected Babalatchi, piously,
+from a distance.
+
+The two men turned quickly and stood looking at him thoughtfully,
+as if in deep consideration of the truth of that proposition.
+Under their sustained gaze Babalatchi experienced an unwonted
+feeling of shyness, and dared not approach nearer. At last
+Willems moved slightly, Abdulla followed readily, and they both
+walked down the courtyard, their voices dying away in the
+darkness. Soon they were heard returning, and the voices grew
+distinct as their forms came out of the gloom. By the fire they
+wheeled again, and Babalatchi caught a few words. Willems was
+saying--
+
+"I have been at sea with him many years when young. I have used
+my knowledge to observe the way into the river when coming in,
+this time."
+
+Abdulla assented in general terms.
+
+"In the variety of knowledge there is safety," he said; and then
+they passed out of earshot.
+
+Babalatchi ran to the tree and took up his position in the solid
+blackness under its branches, leaning against the trunk. There
+he was about midway between the fire and the other limit of the
+two men's walk. They passed him close. Abdulla slim, very
+straight, his head high, and his hands hanging before him and
+twisting mechanically the string of beads; Willems tall, broad,
+looking bigger and stronger in contrast to the slight white
+figure by the side of which he strolled carelessly, taking one
+step to the other's two; his big arms in constant motion as he
+gesticulated vehemently, bending forward to look Abdulla in the
+face.
+
+They passed and repassed close to Babalatchi some half a dozen
+times, and, whenever they were between him and the fire, he could
+see them plain enough. Sometimes they would stop short, Willems
+speaking emphatically, Abdulla listening with rigid attention,
+then, when the other had ceased, bending his head slightly as if
+consenting to some demand, or admitting some statement. Now and
+then Babalatchi caught a word here and there, a fragment of a
+sentence, a loud exclamation. Impelled by curiosity he crept to
+the very edge of the black shadow under the tree. They were
+nearing him, and he heard Willems say--
+
+"You will pay that money as soon as I come on board. That I must
+have."
+
+He could not catch Abdulla's reply. When they went past again,
+Willems was saying--
+
+"My life is in your hand anyway. The boat that brings me on
+board your ship shall take the money to Omar. You must have it
+ready in a sealed bag."
+
+Again they were out of hearing, but instead of coming back they
+stopped by the fire facing each other. Willems moved his arm,
+shook his hand on high talking all the time, then brought it down
+jerkily--stamped his foot. A short period of immobility ensued.
+Babalatchi, gazing intently, saw Abdulla's lips move almost
+imperceptibly. Suddenly Willems seized the Arab's passive hand
+and shook it. Babalatchi drew the long breath of relieved
+suspense. The conference was over. All well, apparently.
+
+He ventured now to approach the two men, who saw him and waited
+in silence. Willems had retired within himself already, and wore
+a look of grim indifference. Abdulla moved away a step or two.
+Babalatchi looked at him inquisitively.
+
+"I go now," said Abdulla, "and shall wait for you outside the
+river, Tuan Willems, till the second sunset. You have only one
+word, I know."
+
+"Only one word," repeated Willems.
+
+Abdulla and Babalatchi walked together down the enclosure,
+leaving the white man alone by the fire. The two Arabs who had
+come with Abdulla preceded them and passed at once through the
+little gate into the light and the murmur of voices of the
+principal courtyard, but Babalatchi and Abdulla stopped on this
+side of it. Abdulla said--
+
+"It is well. We have spoken of many things. He consents."
+
+"When?" asked Babalatchi, eagerly.
+
+"On the second day from this. I have promised every thing. I
+mean to keep much."
+
+"Your hand is always open, O Most Generous amongst Believers!
+You will not forget your servant who called you here. Have I not
+spoken the truth? She has made roast meat of his heart."
+
+With a horizontal sweep of his arm Abdulla seemed to push away
+that last statement, and said slowly, with much meaning--
+
+"He must be perfectly safe; do you understand? Perfectly safe--as
+if he was amongst his own people--till . . ."
+
+"Till when?" whispered Babalatchi.
+
+"Till I speak," said Abdulla. "As to Omar." He hesitated for a
+moment, then went on very low: "He is very old."
+
+"Hai-ya! Old and sick," murmured Babalatchi, with sudden
+melancholy.
+
+"He wanted me to kill that white man. He begged me to have him
+killed at once," said Abdulla, contemptuously, moving again
+towards the gate.
+
+"He is impatient, like those who feel death near them," exclaimed
+Babalatchi, apologetically.
+
+ "Omar shall dwell with me," went on Abdulla, "when . . . But no
+matter. Remember! The white man must be safe."
+
+"He lives in your shadow," answered Babalatchi, solemnly. "It is
+enough!" He touched his forehead and fell back to let Abdulla go
+first.
+
+And now they are back in the courtyard wherefrom, at their
+appearance, listlessness vanishes, and all the faces become alert
+and interested once more. Lakamba approaches his guest, but
+looks at Babalatchi, who reassures him by a confident nod.
+Lakamba clumsily attempts a smile, and looking, with natural and
+ineradicable sulkiness, from under his eyebrows at the man whom
+he wants to honour, asks whether he would condescend to visit the
+place of sitting down and take food. Or perhaps he would prefer
+to give himself up to repose? The house is his, and what is in
+it, and those many men that stand afar watching the interview are
+his. Syed Abdulla presses his host's hand to his breast, and
+informs him in a confidential murmur that his habits are ascetic
+and his temperament inclines to melancholy. No rest; no food; no
+use whatever for those many men who are his. Syed Abdulla is
+impatient to be gone. Lakamba is sorrowful but polite, in his
+hesitating, gloomy way. Tuan Abdulla must have fresh boatmen,
+and many, to shorten the dark and fatiguing road. Hai-ya!
+There! Boats!
+
+By the riverside indistinct forms leap into a noisy and
+disorderly activity. There are cries, orders, banter, abuse.
+Torches blaze sending out much more smoke than light, and in
+their red glare Babalatchi comes up to say that the boats are
+ready.
+
+Through that lurid glare Syed Abdulla, in his long white gown,
+seems to glide fantastically, like a dignified apparition
+attended by two inferior shades, and stands for a moment at the
+landing-place to take leave of his host and ally--whom he loves.
+Syed Abdulla says so distinctly before embarking, and takes his
+seat in the middle of the canoe under a small canopy of blue
+calico stretched on four sticks. Before and behind Syed Abdulla,
+the men squatting by the gunwales hold high the blades of their
+paddles in readiness for a dip, all together. Ready? Not yet.
+Hold on all! Syed Abdulla speaks again, while Lakamba and
+Babalatchi stand close on the bank to hear his words. His words
+are encouraging. Before the sun rises for the second time they
+shall meet, and Syed Abdulla's ship shall float on the waters of
+this river--at last! Lakamba and Babalatchi have no doubt--if
+Allah wills. They are in the hands of the Compassionate. No
+doubt. And so is Syed Abdulla, the great trader who does not
+know what the word failure means; and so is the white man--the
+smartest business man in the islands--who is lying now by Omar's
+fire with his head on Aissa's lap, while Syed Abdulla flies down
+the muddy river with current and paddles between the sombre walls
+of the sleeping forest; on his way to the clear and open sea
+where the Lord of the Isles (formerly of Greenock, but condemned,
+sold, and registered now as of Penang) waits for its owner, and
+swings erratically at anchor in the currents of the capricious
+tide, under the crumbling red cliffs of Tanjong Mirrah.
+
+For some time Lakamba, Sahamin, and Bahassoen looked silently
+into the humid darkness which had swallowed the big canoe that
+carried Abdulla and his unvarying good fortune. Then the two
+guests broke into a talk expressive of their joyful
+anticipations. The venerable Sahamin, as became his advanced
+age, found his delight in speculation as to the activities of a
+rather remote future. He would buy praus, he would send
+expeditions up the river, he would enlarge his trade, and, backed
+by Abdulla's capital, he would grow rich in a very few years.
+Very few. Meantime it would be a good thing to interview Almayer
+to-morrow and, profiting by the last day of the hated man's
+prosperity, obtain some goods from him on credit. Sahamin
+thought it could be done by skilful wheedling. After all, that
+son of Satan was a fool, and the thing was worth doing, because
+the coming revolution would wipe all debts out. Sahamin did not
+mind imparting that idea to his companions, with much senile
+chuckling, while they strolled together from the riverside
+towards the residence. The bull-necked Lakamba, listening with
+pouted lips without the sign of a smile, without a gleam in his
+dull, bloodshot eyes, shuffled slowly across the courtyard
+between his two guests. But suddenly Bahassoen broke in upon the
+old man's prattle with the generous enthusiasm of his youth. . .
+. Trading was very good. But was the change that would make
+them happy effected yet? The white man should be despoiled with
+a strong hand! . . . He grew excited, spoke very loud, and his
+further discourse, delivered with his hand on the hilt of his
+sword, dealt incoherently with the honourable topics of
+throat-cutting, fire-raising, and with the far-famed valour of
+his ancestors.
+
+Babalatchi remained behind, alone with the greatness of his
+conceptions. The sagacious statesman of Sambir sent a scornful
+glance after his noble protector and his noble protector's
+friends, and then stood meditating about that future which to the
+others seemed so assured. Not so to Babalatchi, who paid the
+penalty of his wisdom by a vague sense of insecurity that kept
+sleep at arm's length from his tired body. When he thought at
+last of leaving the waterside, it was only to strike a path for
+himself and to creep along the fences, avoiding the middle of the
+courtyard where small fires glimmered and winked as though the
+sinister darkness there had reflected the stars of the serene
+heaven. He slunk past the wicket-gate of Omar's enclosure, and
+crept on patiently along the light bamboo palisade till he was
+stopped by the angle where it joined the heavy stockade of
+Lakamba's private ground. Standing there, he could look over the
+fence and see Omar's hut and the fire before its door. He could
+also see the shadow of two human beings sitting between him and
+the red glow. A man and a woman. The sight seemed to inspire
+the careworn sage with a frivolous desire to sing. It could
+hardly be called a song; it was more in the nature of a
+recitative without any rhythm, delivered rapidly but distinctly
+in a croaking and unsteady voice; and if Babalatchi considered it
+a song, then it was a song with a purpose and, perhaps for that
+reason, artistically defective. It had all the imperfections of
+unskilful improvisation and its subject was gruesome. It told a
+tale of shipwreck and of thirst, and of one brother killing
+another for the sake of a gourd of water. A repulsive story
+which might have had a purpose but possessed no moral whatever.
+Yet it must have pleased Babalatchi for he repeated it twice, the
+second time even in louder tones than at first, causing a
+disturbance amongst the white rice-birds and the wild
+fruit-pigeons which roosted on the boughs of the big tree growing
+in Omar's compound. There was in the thick foliage above the
+singer's head a confused beating of wings, sleepy remarks in
+bird-language, a sharp stir of leaves. The forms by the fire
+moved; the shadow of the woman altered its shape, and
+Babalatchi's song was cut short abruptly by a fit of soft and
+persistent coughing. He did not try to resume his efforts after
+that interruption, but went away stealthily to seek--if not
+sleep--then, at least, repose.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX
+
+
+As soon as Abdulla and his companions had left the enclosure,
+Aissa approached Willems and stood by his side. He took no
+notice of her expectant attitude till she touched him gently,
+when he turned furiously upon her and, tearing off her face-veil,
+trampled upon it as though it had been a mortal enemy. She
+looked at him with the faint smile of patient curiosity, with the
+puzzled interest of ignorance watching the running of a
+complicated piece of machinery. After he had exhausted his rage,
+he stood again severe and unbending looking down at the fire, but
+the touch of her fingers at the nape of his neck effaced
+instantly the hard lines round his mouth; his eyes wavered
+uneasily; his lips trembled slightly. Starting with the
+unresisting rapidity of a particle of iron--which, quiescent one
+moment, leaps in the next to a powerful magnet--he moved forward,
+caught her in his arms and pressed her violently to his breast.
+He released her as suddenly, and she stumbled a little, stepped
+back, breathed quickly through her parted lips, and said in a
+tone of pleased reproof--
+
+"O Fool-man! And if you had killed me in your strong arms what
+would you have done?"
+
+"You want to live . . . and to run away from me again," he said
+gently. "Tell me--do you?"
+
+She moved towards him with very short steps, her head a little on
+one side, hands on hips, with a slight balancing of her body: an
+approach more tantalizing than an escape. He looked on,
+eager--charmed. She spoke jestingly.
+
+"What am I to say to a man who has been away three days from me?
+Three!" she repeated, holding up playfully three fingers before
+Willems' eyes. He snatched at the hand, but she was on her guard
+and whisked it behind her back.
+
+"No!" she said. "I cannot be caught. But I will come. I am
+coming myself because I like. Do not move. Do not touch me with
+your mighty hands, O child!"
+
+As she spoke she made a step nearer, then another. Willems did
+not stir. Pressing against him she stood on tiptoe to look into
+his eyes, and her own seemed to grow bigger, glistening and
+tender, appealing and promising. With that look she drew the
+man's soul away from him through his immobile pupils, and from
+Willems' features the spark of reason vanished under her gaze and
+was replaced by an appearance of physical well-being, an ecstasy
+of the senses which had taken possession of his rigid body; an
+ecstasy that drove out regrets, hesitation and doubt, and
+proclaimed its terrible work by an appalling aspect of idiotic
+beatitude. He never stirred a limb, hardly breathed, but stood
+in stiff immobility, absorbing the delight of her close contact
+by every pore.
+
+"Closer! Closer!" he murmured.
+
+Slowly she raised her arms, put them over his shoulders, and
+clasping her hands at the back of his neck, swung off the full
+length of her arms. Her head fell back, the eyelids dropped
+slightly, and her thick hair hung straight down: a mass of ebony
+touched by the red gleams of the fire. He stood unyielding under
+the strain, as solid and motionless as one of the big trees of
+the surrounding forests; and his eyes looked at the modelling of
+her chin, at the outline of her neck, at the swelling lines of
+her bosom, with the famished and concentrated expression of a
+starving man looking at food. She drew herself up to him and
+rubbed her head against his cheek slowly and gently. He sighed.
+She, with her hands still on his shoulders, glanced up at the
+placid stars and said--
+
+"The night is half gone. We shall finish it by this fire. By
+this fire you shall tell me all: your words and Syed Abdulla's
+words; and listening to you I shall forget the three
+days--because I am good. Tell me--am I good?"
+
+He said "Yes" dreamily, and she ran off towards the big house.
+
+When she came back, balancing a roll of fine mats on her head, he
+had replenished the fire and was ready to help her in arranging a
+couch on the side of it nearest to the hut. She sank down with a
+quick but gracefully controlled movement, and he threw himself
+full length with impatient haste, as if he wished to forestall
+somebody. She took his head on her knees, and when he felt her
+hands touching his face, her fingers playing with his hair, he
+had an expression of being taken possession of; he experienced a
+sense of peace, of rest, of happiness, and of soothing delight.
+His hands strayed upwards about her neck, and he drew her down so
+as to have her face above his. Then he whispered--"I wish I
+could die like this--now!" She looked at him with her big sombre
+eyes, in which there was no responsive light. His thought was so
+remote from her understanding that she let the words pass by
+unnoticed, like the breath of the wind, like the flight of a
+cloud. Woman though she was, she could not comprehend, in her
+simplicity, the tremendous compliment of that speech, that
+whisper of deadly happiness, so sincere, so spontaneous, coming
+so straight from the heart--like every corruption. It was the
+voice of madness, of a delirious peace, of happiness that is
+infamous, cowardly, and so exquisite that the debased mind
+refuses to contemplate its termination: for to the victims of
+such happiness the moment of its ceasing is the beginning afresh
+of that torture which is its price.
+
+With her brows slightly knitted in the determined preoccupation
+of her own desires, she said--
+
+"Now tell me all. All the words spoken between you and Syed
+Abdulla."
+
+Tell what? What words? Her voice recalled back the
+consciousness that had departed under her touch, and he became
+aware of the passing minutes every one of which was like a
+reproach; of those minutes that falling, slow, reluctant,
+irresistible into the past, marked his footsteps on the way to
+perdition. Not that he had any conviction about it, any notion
+of the possible ending on that painful road. It was an
+indistinct feeling, a threat of suffering like the confused
+warning of coming disease, an inarticulate monition of evil made
+up of fear and pleasure, of resignation and of revolt. He was
+ashamed of his state of mind. After all, what was he afraid of?
+Were those scruples? Why that hesitation to think, to speak of
+what he intended doing? Scruples were for imbeciles. His clear
+duty was to make himself happy. Did he ever take an oath of
+fidelity to Lingard? No. Well then--he would not let any
+interest of that old fool stand between Willems and Willems'
+happiness. Happiness? Was he not, perchance, on a false track?
+Happiness meant money. Much money. At least he had always
+thought so till he had experienced those new sensations which . .
+.
+
+Aissa's question, repeated impatiently, interrupted his musings,
+and looking up at her face shining above him in the dim light of
+the fire he stretched his limbs luxuriously and obedient to her
+desire, he spoke slowly and hardly above his breath. She, with
+her head close to his lips, listened absorbed, interested, in
+attentive immobility. The many noises of the great courtyard
+were hushed up gradually by the sleep that stilled all voices and
+closed all eyes. Then somebody droned out a song with a nasal
+drawl at the end of every verse. He stirred. She put her hand
+suddenly on his lips and sat upright. There was a feeble
+coughing, a rustle of leaves, and then a complete silence took
+possession of the land; a silence cold, mournful, profound; more
+like death than peace; more hard to bear than the fiercest
+tumult. As soon as she removed her hand he hastened to speak, so
+insupportable to him was that stillness perfect and absolute in
+which his thoughts seemed to ring with the loudness of shouts.
+
+"Who was there making that noise?" he asked.
+
+"I do not know. He is gone now," she answered, hastily. "Tell
+me, you will not return to your people; not without me. Not with
+me. Do you promise?"
+
+"I have promised already. I have no people of my own. Have I
+not told you, that you are everybody to me?"
+
+"Ah, yes," she said, slowly, "but I like to hear you say that
+again--every day, and every night, whenever I ask; and never to
+be angry because I ask. I am afraid of white women who are
+shameless and have fierce eyes." She scanned his features close
+for a moment and added:
+
+"Are they very beautiful? They must be."
+
+"I do not know," he whispered, thoughtfully. "And if I ever did
+know, looking at you I have forgotten."
+
+"Forgotten! And for three days and two nights you have forgotten
+me also! Why? Why were you angry with me when I spoke at first
+of Tuan Abdulla, in the days when we lived beside the brook? You
+remembered somebody then. Somebody in the land whence you come.
+Your tongue is false. You are white indeed, and your heart is
+full of deception. I know it. And yet I cannot help believing
+you when you talk of your love for me. But I am afraid!"
+
+He felt flattered and annoyed by her vehemence, and said--
+
+"Well, I am with you now. I did come back. And it was you that
+went away."
+
+"When you have helped Abdulla against the Rajah Laut, who is the
+first of white men, I shall not be afraid any more," she
+whispered.
+
+"You must believe what I say when I tell you that there never was
+another woman; that there is nothing for me to regret, and
+nothing but my enemies to remember."
+
+"Where do you come from?" she said, impulsive and inconsequent,
+in a passionate whisper. "What is that land beyond the great sea
+from which you come? A land of lies and of evil from which
+nothing but misfortune ever comes to us--who are not white. Did
+you not at first ask me to go there with you? That is why I went
+away."
+
+"I shall never ask you again."
+
+"And there is no woman waiting for you there?"
+
+"No!" said Willems, firmly.
+
+She bent over him. Her lips hovered above his face and her long
+hair brushed his cheeks.
+
+"You taught me the love of your people which is of the Devil,"
+she murmured, and bending still lower, she said faintly, "Like
+this?"
+
+"Yes, like this!" he answered very low, in a voice that trembled
+slightly with eagerness; and she pressed suddenly her lips to his
+while he closed his eyes in an ecstasy of delight.
+
+There was a long interval of silence. She stroked his head with
+gentle touches, and he lay dreamily, perfectly happy but for the
+annoyance of an indistinct vision of a well-known figure; a man
+going away from him and diminishing in a long perspective of
+fantastic trees, whose every leaf was an eye looking after that
+man, who walked away growing smaller, but never getting out of
+sight for all his steady progress. He felt a desire to see him
+vanish, a hurried impatience of his disappearance, and he watched
+for it with a careful and irksome effort. There was something
+familiar about that figure. Why! Himself! He gave a sudden
+start and opened his eyes, quivering with the emotion of that
+quick return from so far, of finding himself back by the fire
+with the rapidity of a flash of lightning. It had been half a
+dream; he had slumbered in her arms for a few seconds. Only the
+beginning of a dream--nothing more. But it was some time before
+he recovered from the shock of seeing himself go away so
+deliberately, so definitely, so unguardedly; and going
+away--where? Now, if he had not woke up in time he would never
+have come back again from there; from whatever place he was going
+to. He felt indignant. It was like an evasion, like a prisoner
+breaking his parole--that thing slinking off stealthily while he
+slept. He was very indignant, and was also astonished at the
+absurdity of his own emotions.
+
+She felt him tremble, and murmuring tender words, pressed his
+head to her breast. Again he felt very peaceful with a peace
+that was as complete as the silence round them. He muttered--
+
+"You are tired, Aissa."
+
+She answered so low that it was like a sigh shaped into faint
+words.
+
+"I shall watch your sleep, O child!"
+
+He lay very quiet, and listened to the beating of her heart.
+That sound, light, rapid, persistent, and steady; her very life
+beating against his cheek, gave him a clear perception of secure
+ownership, strengthened his belief in his possession of that
+human being, was like an assurance of the vague felicity of the
+future. There were no regrets, no doubts, no hesitation now.
+Had there ever been? All that seemed far away, ages ago--as
+unreal and pale as the fading memory of some delirium. All the
+anguish, suffering, strife of the past days; the humiliation and
+anger of his downfall; all that was an infamous nightmare, a
+thing born in sleep to be forgotten and leave no trace--and true
+life was this: this dreamy immobility with his head against her
+heart that beat so steadily.
+
+He was broad awake now, with that tingling wakefulness of the
+tired body which succeeds to the few refreshing seconds of
+irresistible sleep, and his wide-open eyes looked absently at the
+doorway of Omar's hut. The reed walls glistened in the light of
+the fire, the smoke of which, thin and blue, drifted slanting in
+a succession of rings and spirals across the doorway, whose empty
+blackness seemed to him impenetrable and enigmatical like a
+curtain hiding vast spaces full of unexpected surprises. This
+was only his fancy, but it was absorbing enough to make him
+accept the sudden appearance of a head, coming out of the gloom,
+as part of his idle fantasy or as the beginning of another short
+dream, of another vagary of his overtired brain. A face with
+drooping eyelids, old, thin, and yellow, above the scattered
+white of a long beard that touched the earth. A head without a
+body, only a foot above the ground, turning slightly from side to
+side on the edge of the circle of light as if to catch the
+radiating heat of the fire on either cheek in succession. He
+watched it in passive amazement, growing distinct, as if coming
+nearer to him, and the confused outlines of a body crawling on
+all fours came out, creeping inch by inch towards the fire, with
+a silent and all but imperceptible movement. He was astounded at
+the appearance of that blind head dragging that crippled body
+behind, without a sound, without a change in the composure of the
+sightless face, which was plain one second, blurred the next in
+the play of the light that drew it to itself steadily. A mute
+face with a kriss between its lips. This was no dream. Omar's
+face. But why? What was he after?
+
+He was too indolent in the happy languor of the moment to answer
+the question. It darted through his brain and passed out,
+leaving him free to listen again to the beating of her heart; to
+that precious and delicate sound which filled the quiet immensity
+of the night. Glancing upwards he saw the motionless head of the
+woman looking down at him in a tender gleam of liquid white
+between the long eyelashes, whose shadow rested on the soft curve
+of her cheek; and under the caress of that look, the uneasy
+wonder and the obscure fear of that apparition, crouching and
+creeping in turns towards the fire that was its guide, were
+lost--were drowned in the quietude of all his senses, as pain is
+drowned in the flood of drowsy serenity that follows upon a dose
+of opium.
+
+He altered the position of his head by ever so little, and now
+could see easily that apparition which he had seen a minute
+before and had nearly forgotten already. It had moved closer,
+gliding and noiseless like the shadow of some nightmare, and now
+it was there, very near, motionless and still as if listening;
+one hand and one knee advanced; the neck stretched out and the
+head turned full towards the fire. He could see the emaciated
+face, the skin shiny over the prominent bones, the black shadows
+of the hollow temples and sunken cheeks, and the two patches of
+blackness over the eyes, over those eyes that were dead and could
+not see. What was the impulse which drove out this blind cripple
+into the night to creep and crawl towards that fire? He looked
+at him, fascinated, but the face, with its shifting lights and
+shadows, let out nothing, closed and impenetrable like a walled
+door.
+
+Omar raised himself to a kneeling posture and sank on his heels,
+with his hands hanging down before him. Willems, looking out of
+his dreamy numbness, could see plainly the kriss between the thin
+lips, a bar across the face; the handle on one side where the
+polished wood caught a red gleam from the fire and the thin line
+of the blade running to a dull black point on the other. He felt
+an inward shock, which left his body passive in Aissa's embrace,
+but filled his breast with a tumult of powerless fear; and he
+perceived suddenly that it was his own death that was groping
+towards him; that it was the hate of himself and the hate of her
+love for him which drove this helpless wreck of a once brilliant
+and resolute pirate, to attempt a desperate deed that would be
+the glorious and supreme consolation of an unhappy old age. And
+while he looked, paralyzed with dread, at the father who had
+resumed his cautious advance--blind like fate, persistent like
+destiny--he listened with greedy eagerness to the heart of the
+daughter beating light, rapid, and steady against his head.
+
+He was in the grip of horrible fear; of a fear whose cold hand
+robs its victim of all will and of all power; of all wish to
+escape, to resist, or to move; which destroys hope and despair
+alike, and holds the empty and useless carcass as if in a vise
+under the coming stroke. It was not the fear of death--he had
+faced danger before--it was not even the fear of that particular
+form of death. It was not the fear of the end, for he knew that
+the end would not come then. A movement, a leap, a shout would
+save him from the feeble hand of the blind old man, from that
+hand that even now was, with cautious sweeps along the ground,
+feeling for his body in the darkness. It was the unreasoning
+fear of this glimpse into the unknown things, into those motives,
+impulses, desires he had ignored, but that had lived in the
+breasts of despised men, close by his side, and were revealed to
+him for a second, to be hidden again behind the black mists of
+doubt and deception. It was not death that frightened him: it
+was the horror of bewildered life where he could understand
+nothing and nobody round him; where he could guide, control,
+comprehend nothing and no one--not even himself.
+
+He felt a touch on his side. That contact, lighter than the
+caress of a mother's hand on the cheek of a sleeping child, had
+for him the force of a crushing blow. Omar had crept close, and
+now, kneeling above him, held the kriss in one hand while the
+other skimmed over his jacket up towards his breast in gentle
+touches; but the blind face, still turned to the heat of the
+fire, was set and immovable in its aspect of stony indifference
+to things it could not hope to see. With an effort Willems took
+his eyes off the deathlike mask and turned them up to Aissa's
+head. She sat motionless as if she had been part of the sleeping
+earth, then suddenly he saw her big sombre eyes open out wide in
+a piercing stare and felt the convulsive pressure of her hands
+pinning his arms along his body. A second dragged itself out,
+slow and bitter, like a day of mourning; a second full of regret
+and grief for that faith in her which took its flight from the
+shattered ruins of his trust. She was holding him! She too! He
+felt her heart give a great leap, his head slipped down on her
+knees, he closed his eyes and there was nothing. Nothing! It
+was as if she had died; as though her heart had leaped out into
+the night, abandoning him, defenceless and alone, in an empty
+world.
+
+His head struck the ground heavily as she flung him aside in her
+sudden rush. He lay as if stunned, face up and, daring not move,
+did not see the struggle, but heard the piercing shriek of mad
+fear, her low angry words; another shriek dying out in a moan.
+When he got up at last he looked at Aissa kneeling over her
+father, he saw her bent back in the effort of holding him down,
+Omar's contorted limbs, a hand thrown up above her head and her
+quick movement grasping the wrist. He made an impulsive step
+forward, but she turned a wild face to him and called out over
+her shoulder--
+
+"Keep back! Do not come near! Do not. . . ."
+
+And he stopped short, his arms hanging lifelessly by his side, as
+if those words had changed him into stone. She was afraid of his
+possible violence, but in the unsettling of all his convictions
+he was struck with the frightful thought that she preferred to
+kill her father all by herself; and the last stage of their
+struggle, at which he looked as though a red fog had filled his
+eyes, loomed up with an unnatural ferocity, with a sinister
+meaning; like something monstrous and depraved, forcing its
+complicity upon him under the cover of that awful night. He was
+horrified and grateful; drawn irresistibly to her--and ready to
+run away. He could not move at first--then he did not want to
+stir. He wanted to see what would happen. He saw her lift, with
+a tremendous effort, the apparently lifeless body into the hut,
+and remained standing, after they disappeared, with the vivid
+image in his eyes of that head swaying on her shoulder, the lower
+jaw hanging down, collapsed, passive, meaningless, like the head
+of a corpse.
+
+Then after a while he heard her voice speaking inside, harshly,
+with an agitated abruptness of tone; and in answer there were
+groans and broken murmurs of exhaustion. She spoke louder. He
+heard her saying violently--"No! No! Never!"
+
+And again a plaintive murmur of entreaty as of some one begging
+for a supreme favour, with a last breath. Then she said--
+
+"Never! I would sooner strike it into my own heart."
+
+She came out, stood panting for a short moment in the doorway,
+and then stepped into the firelight. Behind her, through the
+darkness came the sound of words calling the vengeance of heaven
+on her head, rising higher, shrill, strained, repeating the curse
+over and over again--till the voice cracked in a passionate
+shriek that died out into hoarse muttering ending with a deep and
+prolonged sigh. She stood facing Willems, one hand behind her
+back, the other raised in a gesture compelling attention, and she
+listened in that attitude till all was still inside the hut.
+Then she made another step forward and her hand dropped slowly.
+
+"Nothing but misfortune," she whispered, absently, to herself.
+"Nothing but misfortune to us who are not white." The anger and
+excitement died out of her face, and she looked straight at
+Willems with an intense and mournful gaze.
+
+He recovered his senses and his power of speech with a sudden
+start.
+
+"Aissa," he exclaimed, and the words broke out through his lips
+with hurried nervousness. "Aissa! How can I live here? Trust
+me. Believe in me. Let us go away from here. Go very far away!
+
+Very far; you and I!"
+
+He did not stop to ask himself whether he could escape, and how,
+and where. He was carried away by the flood of hate, disgust,
+and contempt of a white man for that blood which is not his
+blood, for that race which is not his race; for the brown skins;
+for the hearts false like the sea, blacker than night. This
+feeling of repulsion overmastered his reason in a clear
+conviction of the impossibility for him to live with her people.
+He urged her passionately to fly with him because out of all that
+abhorred crowd he wanted this one woman, but wanted her away from
+them, away from that race of slaves and cut-throats from which
+she sprang. He wanted her for himself--far from everybody, in
+some safe and dumb solitude. And as he spoke his anger and
+contempt rose, his hate became almost fear; and his desire of her
+grew immense, burning, illogical and merciless; crying to him
+through all his senses; louder than his hate, stronger than his
+fear, deeper than his contempt--irresistible and certain like
+death itself.
+
+Standing at a little distance, just within the light--but on the
+threshold of that darkness from which she had come--she listened,
+one hand still behind her back, the other arm stretched out with
+the hand half open as if to catch the fleeting words that rang
+around her, passionate, menacing, imploring, but all tinged with
+the anguish of his suffering, all hurried by the impatience that
+gnawed his breast. And while she listened she felt a slowing
+down of her heart-beats as the meaning of his appeal grew clearer
+before her indignant eyes, as she saw with rage and pain the
+edifice of her love, her own work, crumble slowly to pieces,
+destroyed by that man's fears, by that man's falseness. Her
+memory recalled the days by the brook when she had listened to
+other words--to other thoughts--to promises and to pleadings for
+other things, which came from that man's lips at the bidding of
+her look or her smile, at the nod of her head, at the whisper of
+her lips. Was there then in his heart something else than her
+image, other desires than the desires of her love, other fears
+than the fear of losing her? How could that be? Had she grown
+ugly or old in a moment? She was appalled, surprised and angry
+with the anger of unexpected humiliation; and her eyes looked
+fixedly, sombre and steady, at that man born in the land of
+violence and of evil wherefrom nothing but misfortune comes to
+those who are not white. Instead of thinking of her caresses,
+instead of forgetting all the world in her embrace, he was
+thinking yet of his people; of that people that steals every
+land, masters every sea, that knows no mercy and no truth--knows
+nothing but its own strength. O man of strong arm and of false
+heart! Go with him to a far country, be lost in the throng of
+cold eyes and false hearts--lose him there! Never! He was
+mad--mad with fear; but he should not escape her! She would keep
+him here a slave and a master; here where he was alone with her;
+where he must live for her--or die. She had a right to his love
+which was of her making, to the love that was in him now, while
+he spoke those words without sense. She must put between him and
+other white men a barrier of hate. He must not only stay, but he
+must also keep his promise to Abdulla, the fulfilment of which
+would make her safe.
+
+"Aissa, let us go! With you by my side I would attack them with
+my naked hands. Or no! Tomorrow we shall be outside, on board
+Abdulla's ship. You shall come with me and then I could . . .
+If the ship went ashore by some chance, then we could steal a
+canoe and escape in the confusion. . . . You are not afraid of
+the sea . . . of the sea that would give me freedom . . ."
+
+He was approaching her gradually with extended arms, while he
+pleaded ardently in incoherent words that ran over and tripped
+each other in the extreme eagerness of his speech. She stepped
+back, keeping her distance, her eyes on his face, watching on it
+the play of his doubts and of his hopes with a piercing gaze,
+that seemed to search out the innermost recesses of his thought;
+and it was as if she had drawn slowly the darkness round her,
+wrapping herself in its undulating folds that made her indistinct
+and vague. He followed her step by step till at last they both
+stopped, facing each other under the big tree of the enclosure.
+The solitary exile of the forests, great, motionless and solemn
+in his abandonment, left alone by the life of ages that had been
+pushed away from him by those pigmies that crept at his foot,
+towered high and straight above their heads. He seemed to look
+on, dispassionate and imposing, in his lonely greatness,
+spreading his branches wide in a gesture of lofty protection, as
+if to hide them in the sombre shelter of innumerable leaves; as
+if moved by the disdainful compassion of the strong, by the
+scornful pity of an aged giant, to screen this struggle of two
+human hearts from the cold scrutiny of glittering stars.
+
+The last cry of his appeal to her mercy rose loud, vibrated under
+the sombre canopy, darted among the boughs startling the white
+birds that slept wing to wing--and died without an echo,
+strangled in the dense mass of unstirring leaves. He could not
+see her face, but he heard her sighs and the distracted murmur of
+indistinct words. Then, as he listened holding his breath, she
+exclaimed suddenly--
+
+"Have you heard him? He has cursed me because I love you. You
+brought me suffering and strife--and his curse. And now you want
+to take me far away where I would lose you, lose my life; because
+your love is my life now. What else is there? Do not move," she
+cried violently, as he stirred a little--"do not speak! Take
+this! Sleep in peace!"
+
+He saw a shadowy movement of her arm. Something whizzed past and
+struck the ground behind him, close to the fire. Instinctively
+he turned round to look at it. A kriss without its sheath lay by
+the embers; a sinuous dark object, looking like something that
+had been alive and was now crushed, dead and very inoffensive; a
+black wavy outline very distinct and still in the dull red glow.
+Without thinking he moved to pick it up, stooping with the sad
+and humble movement of a beggar gathering the alms flung into the
+dust of the roadside. Was this the answer to his pleading, to
+the hot and living words that came from his heart? Was this the
+answer thrown at him like an insult, that thing made of wood and
+iron, insignificant and venomous, fragile and deadly? He held it
+by the blade and looked at the handle stupidly for a moment
+before he let it fall again at his feet; and when he turned round
+he faced only the night:--the night immense, profound and quiet;
+a sea of darkness in which she had disappeared without leaving a
+trace.
+
+He moved forward with uncertain steps, putting out both his hands
+before him with the anguish of a man blinded suddenly.
+
+"Aissa!" he cried--"come to me at once."
+
+He peered and listened, but saw nothing, heard nothing. After a
+while the solid blackness seemed to wave before his eyes like a
+curtain disclosing movements but hiding forms, and he heard light
+and hurried footsteps, then the short clatter of the gate leading
+to Lakamba's private enclosure. He sprang forward and brought up
+against the rough timber in time to hear the words, "Quick!
+Quick!" and the sound of the wooden bar dropped on the other
+side, securing the gate. With his arms thrown up, the palms
+against the paling, he slid down in a heap on the ground.
+
+"Aissa," he said, pleadingly, pressing his lips to a chink
+between the stakes. "Aissa, do you hear me? Come back! I will
+do what you want, give you all you desire--if I have to set the
+whole Sambir on fire and put that fire out with blood. Only come
+back. Now! At once! Are you there? Do you hear me? Aissa!"
+
+On the other side there were startled whispers of feminine
+voices; a frightened little laugh suddenly interrupted; some
+woman's admiring murmur--"This is brave talk!" Then after a
+short silence Aissa cried--
+
+"Sleep in peace--for the time of your going is near. Now I am
+afraid of you. Afraid of your fear. When you return with Tuan
+Abdulla you shall be great. You will find me here. And there
+will be nothing but love. Nothing else!--Always!--Till we die!"
+
+He listened to the shuffle of footsteps going away, and staggered
+to his feet, mute with the excess of his passionate anger against
+that being so savage and so charming; loathing her, himself,
+everybody he had ever known; the earth, the sky, the very air he
+drew into his oppressed chest; loathing it because it made him
+live, loathing her because she made him suffer. But he could not
+leave that gate through which she had passed. He wandered a
+little way off, then swerved round, came back and fell down again
+by the stockade only to rise suddenly in another attempt to break
+away from the spell that held him, that brought him back there,
+dumb, obedient and furious. And under the immobilized gesture of
+lofty protection in the branches outspread wide above his head,
+under the high branches where white birds slept wing to wing in
+the shelter of countless leaves, he tossed like a grain of dust
+in a whirlwind--sinking and rising--round and round--always near
+that gate. All through the languid stillness of that night he
+fought with the impalpable; he fought with the shadows, with the
+darkness, with the silence. He fought without a sound, striking
+futile blows, dashing from side to side; obstinate, hopeless, and
+always beaten back; like a man bewitched within the invisible
+sweep of a magic circle.
+
+
+
+
+PART III
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+"Yes! Cat, dog, anything that can scratch or bite; as long as it
+is harmful enough and mangy enough. A sick tiger would make you
+happy--of all things. A half-dead tiger that you could weep over
+and palm upon some poor devil in your power, to tend and nurse
+for you. Never mind the consequences--to the poor devil. Let
+him be mangled or eaten up, of course! You haven't any pity to
+spare for the victims of your infernal charity. Not you! Your
+tender heart bleeds only for what is poisonous and deadly. I
+curse the day when you set your benevolent eyes on him. I curse
+it . . ."
+
+"Now then! Now then!" growled Lingard in his moustache.
+Almayer, who had talked himself up to the choking point, drew a
+long breath and went on--
+
+"Yes! It has been always so. Always. As far back as I can
+remember. Don't you recollect? What about that half-starved dog
+you brought on board in Bankok in your arms. In your arms by . .
+. ! It went mad next day and bit the serang. You don't mean to
+say you have forgotten? The best serang you ever had! You said
+so yourself while you were helping us to lash him down to the
+chain-cable, just before he died in his fits. Now, didn't you?
+Two wives and ever so many children the man left. That was your
+doing. . . . And when you went out of your way and risked your
+ship to rescue some Chinamen from a water-logged junk in Formosa
+Straits, that was also a clever piece of business. Wasn't it?
+Those damned Chinamen rose on you before forty-eight hours. They
+were cut-throats, those poor fishermen. You knew they were
+cut-throats before you made up your mind to run down on a lee
+shore in a gale of wind to save them. A mad trick! If they
+hadn't been scoundrels--hopeless scoundrels--you would not have
+put your ship in jeopardy for them, I know. You would not have
+risked the lives of your crew--that crew you loved so--and your
+own life. Wasn't that foolish! And, besides, you were not
+honest. Suppose you had been drowned? I would have been in a
+pretty mess then, left alone here with that adopted daughter of
+yours. Your duty was to myself first. I married that girl
+because you promised to make my fortune. You know you did! And
+then three months afterwards you go and do that mad trick--for a
+lot of Chinamen too. Chinamen! You have no morality. I might
+have been ruined for the sake of those murderous scoundrels that,
+after all, had to be driven overboard after killing ever so many
+of your crew--of your beloved crew! Do you call that honest?"
+
+"Well, well!" muttered Lingard, chewing nervously the stump of
+his cheroot that had gone out and looking at Almayer--who stamped
+wildly about the verandah--much as a shepherd might look at a pet
+sheep in his obedient flock turning unexpectedly upon him in
+enraged revolt. He seemed disconcerted, contemptuously angry yet
+somewhat amused; and also a little hurt as if at some bitter jest
+at his own expense. Almayer stopped suddenly, and crossing his
+arms on his breast, bent his body forward and went on speaking.
+
+"I might have been left then in an awkward hole--all on account
+of your absurd disregard for your safety--yet I bore no grudge.
+I knew your weaknesses. But now--when I think of it! Now we are
+ruined. Ruined! Ruined! My poor little Nina. Ruined!"
+
+He slapped his thighs smartly, walked with small steps this way
+and that, seized a chair, planted it with a bang before Lingard,
+and sat down staring at the old seaman with haggard eyes.
+Lingard, returning his stare steadily, dived slowly into various
+pockets, fished out at last a box of matches and proceeded to
+light his cheroot carefully, rolling it round and round between
+his lips, without taking his gaze for a moment off the distressed
+Almayer. Then from behind a cloud of tobacco smoke he said
+calmly--
+
+"If you had been in trouble as often as I have, my boy, you
+wouldn't carry on so. I have been ruined more than once. Well,
+here I am."
+
+"Yes, here you are," interrupted Almayer. "Much good it is to
+me. Had you been here a month ago it would have been of some
+use. But now! . . You might as well be a thousand miles off."
+
+"You scold like a drunken fish-wife," said Lingard, serenely. He
+got up and moved slowly to the front rail of the verandah. The
+floor shook and the whole house vibrated under his heavy step.
+For a moment he stood with his back to Almayer, looking out on
+the river and forest of the east bank, then turned round and
+gazed mildly down upon him.
+
+"It's very lonely this morning here. Hey?" he said.
+
+Almayer lifted up his head.
+
+"Ah! you notice it--don't you? I should think it is lonely!
+Yes, Captain Lingard, your day is over in Sambir. Only a month
+ago this verandah would have been full of people coming to greet
+you. Fellows would be coming up those steps grinning and
+salaaming--to you and to me. But our day is over. And not by my
+fault either. You can't say that. It's all the doing of that
+pet rascal of yours. Ah! He is a beauty! You should have seen
+him leading that hellish crowd. You would have been proud of
+your old favourite."
+
+"Smart fellow that," muttered Lingard, thoughtfully. Almayer
+jumped up with a shriek.
+
+"And that's all you have to say! Smart fellow! O Lord!"
+
+"Don't make a show of yourself. Sit down. Let's talk quietly.
+I want to know all about it. So he led?"
+
+"He was the soul of the whole thing. He piloted Abdulla's ship
+in. He ordered everything and everybody," said Almayer, who sat
+down again, with a resigned air.
+
+"When did it happen--exactly?"
+
+"On the sixteenth I heard the first rumours of Abdulla's ship
+being in the river; a thing I refused to believe at first. Next
+day I could not doubt any more. There was a great council held
+openly in Lakamba's place where almost everybody in Sambir
+attended. On the eighteenth the Lord of the Isles was anchored
+in Sambir reach, abreast of my house. Let's see. Six weeks
+to-day, exactly."
+
+"And all that happened like this? All of a sudden. You never
+heard anything--no warning. Nothing. Never had an idea that
+something was up? Come, Almayer!"
+
+"Heard! Yes, I used to hear something every day. Mostly lies.
+Is there anything else in Sambir?"
+
+"You might not have believed them," observed Lingard. "In fact
+you ought not to have believed everything that was told to you,
+as if you had been a green hand on his first voyage."
+
+Almayer moved in his chair uneasily.
+
+"That scoundrel came here one day," he said. "He had been away
+from the house for a couple of months living with that woman. I
+only heard about him now and then from Patalolo's people when
+they came over. Well one day, about noon, he appeared in this
+courtyard, as if he had been jerked up from hell-where he
+belongs."
+
+Lingard took his cheroot out, and, with his mouth full of white
+smoke that oozed out through his parted lips, listened,
+attentive. After a short pause Almayer went on, looking at the
+floor moodily--
+
+"I must say he looked awful. Had a bad bout of the ague
+probably. The left shore is very unhealthy. Strange that only
+the breadth of the river . . ."
+
+He dropped off into deep thoughtfulness as if he had forgotten
+his grievances in a bitter meditation upon the unsanitary
+condition of the virgin forests on the left bank. Lingard took
+this opportunity to expel the smoke in a mighty expiration and
+threw the stump of his cheroot over his shoulder.
+
+"Go on," he said, after a while. "He came to see you . . ."
+
+"But it wasn't unhealthy enough to finish him, worse luck!" went
+on Almayer, rousing himself, "and, as I said, he turned up here
+with his brazen impudence. He bullied me, he threatened vaguely.
+He wanted to scare me, to blackmail me. Me! And, by heaven--he
+said you would approve. You! Can you conceive such impudence?
+I couldn't exactly make out what he was driving at. Had I known,
+I would have approved him. Yes! With a bang on the head. But
+how could I guess that he knew enough to pilot a ship through the
+entrance you always said was so difficult. And, after all, that
+was the only danger. I could deal with anybody here--but when
+Abdulla came. . . . That barque of his is armed. He carries
+twelve brass six-pounders, and about thirty men. Desperate
+beggars. Sumatra men, from Deli and Acheen. Fight all day and
+ask for more in the evening. That kind."
+
+"I know, I know," said Lingard, impatiently.
+
+"Of course, then, they were cheeky as much as you please after he
+anchored abreast of our jetty. Willems brought her up himself in
+the best berth. I could see him from this verandah standing
+forward, together with the half-caste master. And that woman was
+there too. Close to him. I heard they took her on board off
+Lakamba's place. Willems said he would not go higher without
+her. Stormed and raged. Frightened them, I believe. Abdulla
+had to interfere. She came off alone in a canoe, and no sooner
+on deck than she fell at his feet before all hands, embraced his
+knees, wept, raved, begged his pardon. Why? I wonder.
+Everybody in Sambir is talking of it. They never heard tell or
+saw anything like it. I have all this from Ali, who goes about
+in the settlement and brings me the news. I had better know what
+is going on--hadn't I? From what I can make out, they--he and
+that woman--are looked upon as something mysterious--beyond
+comprehension. Some think them mad. They live alone with an old
+woman in a house outside Lakamba's campong and are greatly
+respected--or feared, I should say rather. At least, he is. He
+is very violent. She knows nobody, sees nobody, will speak to
+nobody but him. Never leaves him for a moment. It's the talk of
+the place. There are other rumours. From what I hear I suspect
+that Lakamba and Abdulla are tired of him. There's also talk of
+him going away in the Lord of the Isles--when she leaves here for
+the southward--as a kind of Abdulla's agent. At any rate, he
+must take the ship out. The half-caste is not equal to it as
+yet."
+
+Lingard, who had listened absorbed till then, began now to walk
+with measured steps. Almayer ceased talking and followed him
+with his eyes as he paced up and down with a quarter-deck swing,
+tormenting and twisting his long white beard, his face perplexed
+and thoughtful.
+
+"So he came to you first of all, did he?" asked Lingard, without
+stopping.
+
+"Yes. I told you so. He did come. Came to extort money,
+goods--I don't know what else. Wanted to set up as a trader--the
+swine! I kicked his hat into the courtyard, and he went after
+it, and that was the last of him till he showed up with Abdulla.
+How could I know that he could do harm in that way? Or in any
+way at that! Any local rising I could put down easy with my own
+men and with Patalolo's help."
+
+"Oh! yes. Patalolo. No good. Eh? Did you try him at all?"
+
+"Didn't I!" exclaimed Almayer. "I went to see him myself on the
+twelfth. That was four days before Abdulla entered the river.
+In fact, same day Willems tried to get at me. I did feel a
+little uneasy then. Patalolo assured me that there was no
+human being that did not love me in Sambir. Looked as wise as an
+owl. Told me not to listen to the lies of wicked people from
+down the river. He was alluding to that man Bulangi, who lives
+up the sea reach, and who had sent me word that a strange ship
+was anchored outside--which, of course, I repeated to Patalolo.
+He would not believe. Kept on mumbling 'No! No! No!' like an old
+parrot, his head all of a tremble, all beslobbered with betel-nut
+juice. I thought there was something queer about him. Seemed so
+restless, and as if in a hurry to get rid of me. Well. Next day
+that one-eyed malefactor who lives with Lakamba--what's his
+name--Babalatchi, put in an appearance here! Came about mid-day,
+casually like, and stood there on this verandah chatting about
+one thing and another. Asking when I expected you, and so on.
+Then, incidentally, he mentioned that they--his master and
+himself--were very much bothered by a ferocious white man--my
+friend--who was hanging about that woman--Omar's daughter. Asked
+my advice. Very deferential and proper. I told him the white
+man was not my friend, and that they had better kick him out.
+Whereupon he went away salaaming, and protesting his friendship
+and his master's goodwill. Of course I know now the infernal
+nigger came to spy and to talk over some of my men. Anyway,
+eight were missing at the evening muster. Then I took alarm.
+Did not dare to leave my house unguarded. You know what my wife
+is, don't you? And I did not care to take the child with me--it
+being late--so I sent a message to Patalolo to say that we ought
+to consult; that there were rumours and uneasiness in the
+settlement. Do you know what answer I got?"
+
+Lingard stopped short in his walk before Almayer, who went on,
+after an impressive pause, with growing animation.
+
+"All brought it: 'The Rajah sends a friend's greeting, and does
+not understand the message.' That was all. Not a word more
+could Ali get out of him. I could see that Ali was pretty well
+scared. He hung about, arranging my hammock--one thing and
+another. Then just before going away he mentioned that the
+water-gate of the Rajah's place was heavily barred, but that he
+could see only very few men about the courtyard. Finally he said,
+'There is darkness in our Rajah's house, but no sleep. Only
+darkness and fear and the wailing of women.' Cheerful, wasn't
+it? It made me feel cold down my back somehow. After Ali
+slipped away I stood here--by this table, and listened to the
+shouting and drumming in the settlement. Racket enough for
+twenty weddings. It was a little past midnight then."
+
+Again Almayer stopped in his narrative with an abrupt shutting of
+lips, as if he had said all that there was to tell, and Lingard
+stood staring at him, pensive and silent. A big bluebottle fly
+flew in recklessly into the cool verandah, and darted with loud
+buzzing between the two men. Lingard struck at it with his hat.
+The fly swerved, and Almayer dodged his head out of the way.
+Then Lingard aimed another ineffectual blow; Almayer jumped up
+and waved his arms about. The fly buzzed desperately, and the
+vibration of minute wings sounded in the peace of the early
+morning like a far-off string orchestra accompanying the hollow,
+determined stamping of the two men, who, with heads thrown back
+and arms gyrating on high, or again bending low with infuriated
+lunges, were intent upon killing the intruder. But suddenly the
+buzz died out in a thin thrill away in the open space of the
+courtyard, leaving Lingard and Almayer standing face to face in
+the fresh silence of the young day, looking very puzzled and
+idle, their arms hanging uselessly by their sides--like men
+disheartened by some portentous failure.
+
+"Look at that!" muttered Lingard. "Got away after all."
+
+"Nuisance," said Almayer in the same tone. "Riverside is overrun
+with them. This house is badly placed . . . mosquitos . . . and
+these big flies . . . . last week stung Nina . . . been ill four
+days . . . poor child. . . . I wonder what such damned things
+are made for!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+After a long silence, during which Almayer had moved towards the
+table and sat down, his head between his hands, staring straight
+before him, Lingard, who had recommenced walking, cleared his
+throat and said--
+
+"What was it you were saying?"
+
+"Ah! Yes! You should have seen this settlement that night. I
+don't think anybody went to bed. I walked down to the point, and
+could see them. They had a big bonfire in the palm grove, and
+the talk went on there till the morning. When I came back here
+and sat in the dark verandah in this quiet house I felt so
+frightfully lonely that I stole in and took the child out of her
+cot and brought her here into my hammock. If it hadn't been for
+her I am sure I would have gone mad; I felt so utterly alone and
+helpless. Remember, I hadn't heard from you for four months.
+Didn't know whether you were alive or dead. Patalolo would have
+nothing to do with me. My own men were deserting me like rats do
+a sinking hulk. That was a black night for me, Captain Lingard.
+A black night as I sat here not knowing what would happen next.
+They were so excited and rowdy that I really feared they would
+come and burn the house over my head. I went and brought my
+revolver. Laid it loaded on the table. There were such awful
+yells now and then. Luckily the child slept through it, and
+seeing her so pretty and peaceful steadied me somehow. Couldn't
+believe there was any violence in this world, looking at her
+lying so quiet and so unconscious of what went on. But it was
+very hard. Everything was at an end. You must understand that
+on that night there was no government in Sambir. Nothing to
+restrain those fellows. Patalolo had collapsed. I was abandoned
+by my own people, and all that lot could vent their spite on me
+if they wanted. They know no gratitude. How many times haven't I
+saved this settlement from starvation? Absolute starvation.
+Only three months ago I distributed again a lot of rice on
+credit. There was nothing to eat in this infernal place. They
+came begging on their knees. There isn't a man in Sambir, big or
+little, who is not in debt to Lingard & Co. Not one. You ought
+to be satisfied. You always said that was the right policy for
+us. Well, I carried it out. Ah! Captain Lingard, a policy like
+that should be backed by loaded rifles . . ."
+
+"You had them!" exclaimed Lingard in the midst of his promenade,
+that went on more rapid as Almayer talked: the headlong tramp of
+a man hurrying on to do something violent. The verandah was full
+of dust, oppressive and choking, which rose under the old
+seaman's feet, and made Almayer cough again and again.
+
+"Yes, I had! Twenty. And not a finger to pull a trigger. It's
+easy to talk," he spluttered, his face very red.
+
+Lingard dropped into a chair, and leaned back with one hand
+stretched out at length upon the table, the other thrown over the
+back of his seat. The dust settled, and the sun surging above
+the forest flooded the verandah with a clear light. Almayer got
+up and busied himself in lowering the split rattan screens that
+hung between the columns of the verandah.
+
+"Phew!" said Lingard, "it will be a hot day. That's right, my
+boy. Keep the sun out. We don't want to be roasted alive here."
+
+Almayer came back, sat down, and spoke very calmly--
+
+"In the morning I went across to see Patalolo. I took the child
+with me, of course. I found the water-gate barred, and had to
+walk round through the bushes. Patalolo received me lying on the
+floor, in the dark, all the shutters closed. I could get nothing
+out of him but lamentations and groans. He said you must be
+dead. That Lakamba was coming now with Abdulla's guns to kill
+everybody. Said he did not mind being killed, as he was an old
+man, but that the wish of his heart was to make a pilgrimage. He
+was tired of men's ingratitude--he had no heirs--he wanted to go
+to Mecca and die there. He would ask Abdulla to let him go.
+Then he abused Lakamba--between sobs--and you, a little. You
+prevented him from asking for a flag that would have been
+respected--he was right there--and now when his enemies were
+strong he was weak, and you were not there to help him. When I
+tried to put some heart into him, telling him he had four big
+guns--you know the brass six-pounders you left here last
+year--and that I would get powder, and that, perhaps, together we
+could make head against Lakamba, he simply howled at me. No
+matter which way he turned--he shrieked--the white men would be
+the death of him, while he wanted only to be a pilgrim and be at
+peace. My belief is," added Almayer, after a short pause, and
+fixing a dull stare upon Lingard, "that the old fool saw this
+thing coming for a long time, and was not only too frightened to
+do anything himself, but actually too scared to let you or me
+know of his suspicions. Another of your particular pets! Well!
+You have a lucky hand, I must say!"
+
+Lingard struck a sudden blow on the table with his clenched hand.
+There was a sharp crack of splitting wood. Almayer started up
+violently, then fell back in his chair and looked at the table.
+
+"There!" he said, moodily, "you don't know your own strength.
+This table is completely ruined. The only table I had been able
+to save from my wife. By and by I will have to eat squatting on
+the floor like a native."
+
+Lingard laughed heartily. "Well then, don't nag at me like a
+woman at a drunken husband!" He became very serious after
+awhile, and added, "If it hadn't been for the loss of the Flash I
+would have been here three months ago, and all would have been
+well. No use crying over that. Don't you be uneasy, Kaspar. We
+will have everything ship-shape here in a very short time."
+
+"What? You don't mean to expel Abdulla out of here by force! I
+tell you, you can't."
+
+"Not I!" exclaimed Lingard. "That's all over, I am afraid.
+Great pity. They will suffer for it. He will squeeze them.
+Great pity. Damn it! I feel so sorry for them if I had the
+Flash here I would try force. Eh! Why not? However, the poor
+Flash is gone, and there is an end of it. Poor old hooker. Hey,
+Almayer? You made a voyage or two with me. Wasn't she a sweet
+craft? Could make her do anything but talk. She was better than
+a wife to me. Never scolded. Hey? . . . And to think that it
+should come to this. That I should leave her poor old bones
+sticking on a reef as though I had been a damned fool of a
+southern-going man who must have half a mile of water under his
+keel to be safe! Well! well! It's only those who do nothing
+that make no mistakes, I suppose. But it's hard. Hard."
+
+He nodded sadly, with his eyes on the ground. Almayer looked at
+him with growing indignation.
+
+"Upon my word, you are heartless," he burst out; "perfectly
+heartless--and selfish. It does not seem to strike you--in all
+that--that in losing your ship--by your recklessness, I am
+sure--you ruin me--us, and my little Nina. What's going to
+become of me and of her? That's what I want to know. You
+brought me here, made me your partner, and now, when everything
+is gone to the devil--through your fault, mind you--you talk
+about your ship . . . ship! You can get another. But here.
+This trade. That's gone now, thanks to Willems. . . . Your dear
+Willems!"
+
+"Never you mind about Willems. I will look after him," said
+Lingard, severely. "And as to the trade . . . I will make your
+fortune yet, my boy. Never fear. Have you got any cargo for the
+schooner that brought me here?"
+
+"The shed is full of rattans," answered Almayer, "and I have
+about eighty tons of guttah in the well. The last lot I ever will
+have, no doubt," he added, bitterly.
+
+"So, after all, there was no robbery. You've lost nothing
+actually. Well, then, you must . . . Hallo! What's the matter!
+. . . Here! . . ."
+
+"Robbery! No!" screamed Almayer, throwing up his hands.
+
+He fell back in the chair and his face became purple. A little
+white foam appeared on his lips and trickled down his chin, while
+he lay back, showing the whites of his upturned eyes. When he
+came to himself he saw Lingard standing over him, with an empty
+water-chatty in his hand.
+
+"You had a fit of some kind," said the old seaman with much
+concern. "What is it? You did give me a fright. So very
+sudden."
+
+Almayer, his hair all wet and stuck to his head, as if he had
+been diving, sat up and gasped.
+
+"Outrage! A fiendish outrage. I . . ."
+
+Lingard put the chatty on the table and looked at him in
+attentive silence. Almayer passed his hand over his forehead and
+went on in an unsteady tone:
+
+"When I remember that, I lose all control," he said. "I told you
+he anchored Abdulla's ship abreast our jetty, but over to the
+other shore, near the Rajah's place. The ship was surrounded
+with boats. From here it looked as if she had been landed on a
+raft. Every dugout in Sambir was there. Through my glass I
+could distinguish the faces of people on the poop--Abdulla,
+Willems, Lakamba--everybody. That old cringing scoundrel Sahamin
+was there. I could see quite plain. There seemed to be much
+talk and discussion. Finally I saw a ship's boat lowered. Some
+Arab got into her, and the boat went towards Patalolo's
+landing-place. It seems they had been refused admittance--so
+they say. I think myself that the water-gate was not unbarred
+quick enough to please the exalted messenger. At any rate I saw
+the boat come back almost directly. I was looking on, rather
+interested, when I saw Willems and some more go forward--very
+busy about something there. That woman was also amongst them.
+Ah, that woman . . ."
+
+Almayer choked, and seemed on the point of having a relapse, but
+by a violent effort regained a comparative composure.
+
+"All of a sudden," he continued--"bang! They fired a shot into
+Patalolo's gate, and before I had time to catch my breath--I was
+startled, you may believe--they sent another and burst the gate
+open. Whereupon, I suppose, they thought they had done enough
+for a while, and probably felt hungry, for a feast began aft.
+Abdulla sat amongst them like an idol, cross-legged, his hands on
+his lap. He's too great altogether to eat when others do, but he
+presided, you see. Willems kept on dodging about forward, aloof
+from the crowd, and looking at my house through the ship's long
+glass. I could not resist it. I shook my fist at him."
+
+"Just so," said Lingard, gravely. "That was the thing to do, of
+course. If you can't fight a man the best thing is to exasperate
+him."
+
+Almayer waved his hand in a superior manner, and continued,
+unmoved: "You may say what you like. You can't realize my
+feelings. He saw me, and, with his eye still at the small end of
+the glass, lifted his arm as if answering a hail. I thought my
+turn to be shot at would come next after Patalolo, so I ran up
+the Union Jack to the flagstaff in the yard. I had no other
+protection. There were only three men besides Ali that stuck to
+me--three cripples, for that matter, too sick to get away. I
+would have fought singlehanded, I think, I was that angry, but
+there was the child. What to do with her? Couldn't send her up
+the river with the mother. You know I can't trust my wife. I
+decided to keep very quiet, but to let nobody land on our shore.
+Private property, that; under a deed from Patalolo. I was within
+my right--wasn't I? The morning was very quiet. After they had
+a feed on board the barque with Abdulla most of them went home;
+only the big people remained. Towards three o'clock Sahamin
+crossed alone in a small canoe. I went down on our wharf with my
+gun to speak to him, but didn't let him land. The old hypocrite
+said Abdulla sent greetings and wished to talk with me on
+business; would I come on board? I said no; I would not. Told
+him that Abdulla may write and I would answer, but no interview,
+neither on board his ship nor on shore. I also said that if
+anybody attempted to land within my fences I would shoot--no
+matter whom. On that he lifted his hands to heaven, scandalized,
+and then paddled away pretty smartly--to report, I suppose. An
+hour or so afterwards I saw Willems land a boat party at the
+Rajah's. It was very quiet. Not a shot was fired, and there was
+hardly any shouting. They tumbled those brass guns you presented
+to Patalolo last year down the bank into the river. It's deep
+there close to. The channel runs that way, you know. About
+five, Willems went back on board, and I saw him join Abdulla by
+the wheel aft. He talked a lot, swinging his arms about--seemed
+to explain things--pointed at my house, then down the reach.
+Finally, just before sunset, they hove upon the cable and dredged
+the ship down nearly half a mile to the junction of the two
+branches of the river--where she is now, as you might have seen."
+
+Lingard nodded.
+
+"That evening, after dark--I was informed--Abdulla landed for the
+first time in Sambir. He was entertained in Sahamin's house. I
+sent Ali to the settlement for news. He returned about nine, and
+reported that Patalolo was sitting on Abdulla's left hand before
+Sahamin's fire. There was a great council. Ali seemed to think
+that Patalolo was a prisoner, but he was wrong there. They did
+the trick very neatly. Before midnight everything was arranged
+as I can make out. Patalolo went back to his demolished
+stockade, escorted by a dozen boats with torches. It appears he
+begged Abdulla to let him have a passage in the Lord of the Isles
+to Penang. From there he would go to Mecca. The firing
+business was alluded to as a mistake. No doubt it was in a
+sense. Patalolo never meant resisting. So he is going as soon
+as the ship is ready for sea. He went on board next day with
+three women and half a dozen fellows as old as himself. By
+Abdulla's orders he was received with a salute of seven guns, and
+he has been living on board ever since--five weeks. I doubt
+whether he will leave the river alive. At any rate he won't live
+to reach Penang. Lakamba took over all his goods, and gave him a
+draft on Abdulla's house payable in Penang. He is bound to die
+before he gets there. Don't you see?"
+
+He sat silent for a while in dejected meditation, then went on:
+
+"Of course there were several rows during the night. Various
+fellows took the opportunity of the unsettled state of affairs to
+pay off old scores and settle old grudges. I passed the night in
+that chair there, dozing uneasily. Now and then there would be a
+great tumult and yelling which would make me sit up, revolver in
+hand. However, nobody was killed. A few broken heads--that's
+all. Early in the morning Willems caused them to make a fresh
+move which I must say surprised me not a little. As soon as
+there was daylight they busied themselves in setting up a
+flag-pole on the space at the other end of the settlement, where
+Abdulla is having his houses built now. Shortly after sunrise
+there was a great gathering at the flag-pole. All went there.
+Willems was standing leaning against the mast, one arm over that
+woman's shoulders. They had brought an armchair for Patalolo,
+and Lakamba stood on the right hand of the old man, who made a
+speech. Everybody in Sambir was there: women, slaves,
+children--everybody! Then Patalolo spoke. He said that by the
+mercy of the Most High he was going on a pilgrimage. The dearest
+wish of his heart was to be accomplished. Then, turning to
+Lakamba, he begged him to rule justly during his--Patalolo's--
+absence. There was a bit of play-acting there. Lakamba said he
+was unworthy of the honourable burden, and Patalolo insisted.
+Poor old fool! It must have been bitter to him. They made him
+actually entreat that scoundrel. Fancy a man compelled to beg of
+a robber to despoil him! But the old Rajah was so frightened.
+Anyway, he did it, and Lakamba accepted at last. Then Willems
+made a speech to the crowd. Said that on his way to the west the
+Rajah--he meant Patalolo--would see the Great White Ruler in
+Batavia and obtain his protection for Sambir. Meantime, he went
+on, I, an Orang Blanda and your friend, hoist the flag under the
+shadow of which there is safety. With that he ran up a Dutch
+flag to the mast-head. It was made hurriedly, during the night,
+of cotton stuffs, and, being heavy, hung down the mast, while the
+crowd stared. Ali told me there was a great sigh of surprise,
+but not a word was spoken till Lakamba advanced and proclaimed in
+a loud voice that during all that day every one passing by the
+flagstaff must uncover his head and salaam before the emblem."
+
+"But, hang it all!" exclaimed Lingard--"Abdulla is British!"
+
+"Abdulla wasn't there at all--did not go on shore that day. Yet
+Ali, who has his wits about him, noticed that the space where the
+crowd stood was under the guns of the Lord of the Isles. They
+had put a coir warp ashore, and gave the barque a cant in the
+current, so as to bring the broadside to bear on the flagstaff.
+Clever! Eh? But nobody dreamt of resistance. When they
+recovered from the surprise there was a little quiet jeering; and
+Bahassoen abused Lakamba violently till one of Lakamba's men hit
+him on the head with a staff. Frightful crack, I am told. Then
+they left off jeering. Meantime Patalolo went away, and Lakamba
+sat in the chair at the foot of the flagstaff, while the crowd
+surged around, as if they could not make up their minds to go.
+Suddenly there was a great noise behind Lakamba's chair. It was
+that woman, who went for Willems. Ali says she was like a wild
+beast, but he twisted her wrist and made her grovel in the dust.
+Nobody knows exactly what it was about. Some say it was about
+that flag. He carried her off, flung her into a canoe, and went
+on board Abdulla's ship. After that Sahamin was the first to
+salaam to the flag. Others followed suit. Before noon
+everything was quiet in the settlement, and Ali came back and
+told me all this."
+
+Almayer drew a long breath. Lingard stretched out his legs.
+
+"Go on!" he said.
+
+Almayer seemed to struggle with himself. At last he spluttered
+out:
+
+"The hardest is to tell yet. The most unheard-of thing! An
+outrage! A fiendish outrage!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+
+"Well! Let's know all about it. I can't imagine . . ." began
+Lingard, after waiting for some time in silence.
+
+"Can't imagine! I should think you couldn't," interrupted
+Almayer. "Why! . . . You just listen. When Ali came back I
+felt a little easier in my mind. There was then some semblance
+of order in Sambir. I had the Jack up since the morning and
+began to feel safer. Some of my men turned up in the afternoon.
+I did not ask any questions; set them to work as if nothing had
+happened. Towards the evening--it might have been five or
+half-past--I was on our jetty with the child when I heard shouts
+at the far-off end of the settlement. At first I didn't take
+much notice. By and by Ali came to me and says, 'Master, give me
+the child, there is much trouble in the settlement.' So I gave
+him Nina and went in, took my revolver, and passed through the
+house into the back courtyard. As I came down the steps I saw
+all the serving girls clear out from the cooking shed, and I
+heard a big crowd howling on the other side of the dry ditch
+which is the limit of our ground. Could not see them on account
+of the fringe of bushes along the ditch, but I knew that crowd
+was angry and after somebody. As I stood wondering, that
+Jim-Eng--you know the Chinaman who settled here a couple of years
+ago?"
+
+"He was my passenger; I brought him here," exclaimed Lingard. "A
+first-class Chinaman that."
+
+"Did you? I had forgotten. Well, that Jim-Eng, he burst through
+the bush and fell into my arms, so to speak. He told me,
+panting, that they were after him because he wouldn't take off
+his hat to the flag. He was not so much scared, but he was very
+angry and indignant. Of course he had to run for it; there were
+some fifty men after him--Lakamba's friends--but he was full of
+fight. Said he was an Englishman, and would not take off his hat
+to any flag but English. I tried to soothe him while the crowd
+was shouting on the other side of the ditch. I told him he must
+take one of my canoes and cross the river. Stop on the other
+side for a couple of days. He wouldn't. Not he. He was
+English, and he would fight the whole lot. Says he: 'They are
+only black fellows. We white men,' meaning me and himself, 'can
+fight everybody in Sambir.' He was mad with passion. The crowd
+quieted a little, and I thought I could shelter Jim-Eng without
+much risk, when all of a sudden I heard Willems' voice. He
+shouted to me in English: 'Let four men enter your compound to
+get that Chinaman!' I said nothing. Told Jim-Eng to keep quiet
+too. Then after a while Willems shouts again: 'Don't resist,
+Almayer. I give you good advice. I am keeping this crowd back.
+Don't resist them!' That beggar's voice enraged me; I could not
+help it. I cried to him: 'You are a liar!' and just then
+Jim-Eng, who had flung off his jacket and had tucked up his
+trousers ready for a fight; just then that fellow he snatches the
+revolver out of my hand and lets fly at them through the bush.
+There was a sharp cry--he must have hit somebody--and a great
+yell, and before I could wink twice they were over the ditch and
+through the bush and on top of us! Simply rolled over us! There
+wasn't the slightest chance to resist. I was trampled under
+foot, Jim-Eng got a dozen gashes about his body, and we were
+carried halfway up the yard in the first rush. My eyes and mouth
+were full of dust; I was on my back with three or four fellows
+sitting on me. I could hear Jim-Eng trying to shout not very far
+from me. Now and then they would throttle him and he would
+gurgle. I could hardly breathe myself with two heavy fellows on
+my chest. Willems came up running and ordered them to raise me
+up, but to keep good hold. They led me into the verandah. I
+looked round, but did not see either Ali or the child. Felt
+easier. Struggled a little. . . . Oh, my God!"
+
+Almayer's face was distorted with a passing spasm of rage.
+Lingard moved in his chair slightly. Almayer went on after a
+short pause:
+
+"They held me, shouting threats in my face. Willems took down my
+hammock and threw it to them. He pulled out the drawer of this
+table, and found there a palm and needle and some sail-twine. We
+were making awnings for your brig, as you had asked me last
+voyage before you left. He knew, of course, where to look for
+what he wanted. By his orders they laid me out on the floor,
+wrapped me in my hammock, and he started to stitch me in, as if I
+had been a corpse, beginning at the feet. While he worked he
+laughed wickedly. I called him all the names I could think of.
+He told them to put their dirty paws over my mouth and nose. I
+was nearly choked. Whenever I moved they punched me in the ribs.
+
+He went on taking fresh needlefuls as he wanted them, and working
+steadily. Sewed me up to my throat. Then he rose, saying, 'That
+will do; let go.' That woman had been standing by; they must
+have been reconciled. She clapped her hands. I lay on the floor
+like a bale of goods while he stared at me, and the woman
+shrieked with delight. Like a bale of goods! There was a grin
+on every face, and the verandah was full of them. I wished
+myself dead--'pon my word, Captain Lingard, I did! I do now
+whenever I think of it!"
+
+Lingard's face expressed sympathetic indignation. Almayer
+dropped his head upon his arms on the table, and spoke in that
+position in an indistinct and muffled voice, without looking up.
+
+"Finally, by his directions, they flung me into the big
+rocking-chair. I was sewed in so tight that I was stiff like a
+piece of wood. He was giving orders in a very loud voice, and
+that man Babalatchi saw that they were executed. They obeyed him
+implicitly. Meantime I lay there in the chair like a log, and
+that woman capered before me and made faces; snapped her fingers
+before my nose. Women are bad!--ain't they? I never saw her
+before, as far as I know. Never done anything to her. Yet she
+was perfectly fiendish. Can you understand it? Now and then she
+would leave me alone to hang round his neck for awhile, and then
+she would return before my chair and begin her exercises again.
+He looked on, indulgent. The perspiration ran down my face, got
+into my eyes--my arms were sewn in. I was blinded half the time;
+at times I could see better. She drags him before my chair. 'I
+am like white women,' she says, her arms round his neck. You
+should have seen the faces of the fellows in the verandah! They
+were scandalized and ashamed of themselves to see her behaviour.
+Suddenly she asks him, alluding to me: 'When are you going to
+kill him?' Imagine how I felt. I must have swooned; I don't
+remember exactly. I fancy there was a row; he was angry. When I
+got my wits again he was sitting close to me, and she was gone.
+I understood he sent her to my wife, who was hiding in the back
+room and never came out during this affair. Willems says to
+me--I fancy I can hear his voice, hoarse and dull--he says to me:
+'Not a hair of your head shall be touched.' I made no sound.
+Then he goes on: 'Please remark that the flag you have
+hoisted--which, by the by, is not yours--has been respected.
+Tell Captain Lingard so when you do see him. But,' he says, 'you
+first fired at the crowd.' 'You are a liar, you blackguard!' I
+shouted. He winced, I am sure. It hurt him to see I was not
+frightened. 'Anyways,' he says, 'a shot had been fired out of
+your compound and a man was hit. Still, all your property shall
+be respected on account of the Union Jack. Moreover, I have no
+quarrel with Captain Lingard, who is the senior partner in this
+business. As to you,' he continued, 'you will not forget this
+day--not if you live to be a hundred years old--or I don't know
+your nature. You will keep the bitter taste of this humiliation
+to the last day of your life, and so your kindness to me shall be
+repaid. I shall remove all the powder you have. This coast is
+under the protection of the Netherlands, and you have no right to
+have any powder. There are the Governor's Orders in Council to
+that effect, and you know it. Tell me where the key of the small
+storehouse is?' I said not a word, and he waited a little, then
+rose, saying: 'It's your own fault if there is any damage done.'
+He ordered Babalatchi to have the lock of the office-room forced,
+and went in--rummaged amongst my drawers--could not find the key.
+Then that woman Aissa asked my wife, and she gave them the key.
+After awhile they tumbled every barrel into the river.
+Eighty-three hundredweight! He superintended himself, and saw
+every barrel roll into the water. There were mutterings.
+Babalatchi was angry and tried to expostulate, but he gave him a
+good shaking. I must say he was perfectly fearless with those
+fellows. Then he came back to the verandah, sat down by me
+again, and says: 'We found your man Ali with your little daughter
+hiding in the bushes up the river. We brought them in. They are
+perfectly safe, of course. Let me congratulate you, Almayer,
+upon the cleverness of your child. She recognized me at once,
+and cried "pig" as naturally as you would yourself.
+Circumstances alter feelings. You should have seen how
+frightened your man Ali was. Clapped his hands over her mouth.
+I think you spoil her, Almayer. But I am not angry. Really, you
+look so ridiculous in this chair that I can't feel angry.' I
+made a frantic effort to burst out of my hammock to get at that
+scoundrel's throat, but I only fell off and upset the chair over
+myself. He laughed and said only: 'I leave you half of your
+revolver cartridges and take half myself; they will fit mine. We
+are both white men, and should back each other up. I may want
+them.' I shouted at him from under the chair: 'You are a thief,'
+but he never looked, and went away, one hand round that woman's
+waist, the other on Babalatchi's shoulder, to whom he was
+talking--laying down the law about something or other. In less
+than five minutes there was nobody inside our fences. After
+awhile Ali came to look for me and cut me free. I haven't seen
+Willems since--nor anybody else for that matter. I have been
+left alone. I offered sixty dollars to the man who had been
+wounded, which were accepted. They released Jim-Eng the next
+day, when the flag had been hauled down. He sent six cases of
+opium to me for safe keeping but has not left his house. I think
+he is safe enough now. Everything is very quiet."
+
+Towards the end of his narrative Almayer lifted his head off the
+table, and now sat back in his chair and stared at the bamboo
+rafters of the roof above him. Lingard lolled in his seat with
+his legs stretched out. In the peaceful gloom of the verandah,
+with its lowered screens, they heard faint noises from the world
+outside in the blazing sunshine: a hail on the river, the answer
+from the shore, the creak of a pulley; sounds short, interrupted,
+as if lost suddenly in the brilliance of noonday. Lingard got up
+slowly, walked to the front rail, and holding one of the screens
+aside, looked out in silence. Over the water and the empty
+courtyard came a distinct voice from a small schooner anchored
+abreast of the Lingard jetty.
+
+"Serang! Take a pull at the main peak halyards. This gaff is
+down on the boom.''
+
+There was a shrill pipe dying in long-drawn cadence, the song of
+the men swinging on the rope. The voice said sharply: "That will
+do!" Another voice--the serang's probably--shouted: "Ikat!" and
+as Lingard dropped the blind and turned away all was silent
+again, as if there had been nothing on the other side of the
+swaying screen; nothing but the light, brilliant, crude, heavy,
+lying on a dead land like a pall of fire. Lingard sat down
+again, facing Almayer, his elbow on the table, in a thoughtful
+attitude.
+
+"Nice little schooner," muttered Almayer, wearily. "Did you buy
+her?"
+
+"No," answered Lingard. "After I lost the Flash we got to
+Palembang in our boats. I chartered her there, for six months.
+From young Ford, you know. Belongs to him. He wanted a spell
+ashore, so I took charge myself. Of course all Ford's people on
+board. Strangers to me. I had to go to Singapore about the
+insurance; then I went to Macassar, of course. Had long
+passages. No wind. It was like a curse on me. I had lots of
+trouble with old Hudig. That delayed me much."
+
+"Ah! Hudig! Why with Hudig?" asked Almayer, in a perfunctory
+manner.
+
+"Oh! about a . . . a woman," mumbled Lingard.
+
+Almayer looked at him with languid surprise. The old seaman had
+twisted his white beard into a point, and now was busy giving his
+moustaches a fierce curl. His little red eyes--those eyes that
+had smarted under the salt sprays of every sea, that had looked
+unwinking to windward in the gales of all latitudes--now glared
+at Almayer from behind the lowered eyebrows like a pair of
+frightened wild beasts crouching in a bush.
+
+"Extraordinary! So like you! What can you have to do with
+Hudig's women? The old sinner!" said Almayer, negligently.
+
+"What are you talking about! Wife of a friend of . . . I mean of
+a man I know . . ."
+
+"Still, I don't see . . ." interjected Almayer carelessly.
+
+"Of a man you know too. Well. Very well."
+
+"I knew so many men before you made me bury myself in this hole!"
+growled Almayer, unamiably. "If she had anything to do with
+Hudig--that wife--then she can't be up to much. I would be sorry
+for the man," added Almayer, brightening up with the recollection
+of the scandalous tittle-tattle of the past, when he was a young
+man in the second capital of the Islands--and so well informed,
+so well informed. He laughed. Lingard's frown deepened.
+
+"Don't talk foolish! It's Willems' wife."
+
+Almayer grasped the sides of his seat, his eyes and mouth opened
+wide.
+
+"What? Why!" he exclaimed, bewildered.
+
+"Willems'--wife," repeated Lingard distinctly. "You ain't deaf,
+are you? The wife of Willems. Just so. As to why! There was a
+promise. And I did not know what had happened here."
+
+"What is it. You've been giving her money, I bet," cried
+Almayer.
+
+"Well, no!" said Lingard, deliberately. "Although I suppose I
+shall have to . . ."
+
+Almayer groaned.
+
+"The fact is," went on Lingard, speaking slowly and steadily,
+"the fact is that I have . . . I have brought her here. Here.
+To Sambir."
+
+"In heaven's name! why?" shouted Almayer, jumping up. The chair
+tilted and fell slowly over. He raised his clasped hands above
+his head and brought them down jerkily, separating his fingers
+with an effort, as if tearing them apart. Lingard nodded,
+quickly, several times.
+
+"I have. Awkward. Hey?" he said, with a puzzled look upwards.
+
+"Upon my word," said Almayer, tearfully. "I can't understand you
+at all. What will you do next! cWillems' wife!"
+
+"Wife and child. Small boy, you know. They are on board the
+schooner."
+
+Almayer looked at Lingard with sudden suspicion, then turning
+away busied himself in picking up the chair, sat down in it
+turning his back upon the old seaman, and tried to whistle, but
+gave it up directly. Lingard went on--
+
+"Fact is, the fellow got into trouble with Hudig. Worked upon my
+feelings. I promised to arrange matters. I did. With much
+trouble. Hudig was angry with her for wishing to join her
+husband. Unprincipled old fellow. You know she is his daughter.
+Well, I said I would see her through it all right; help Willems
+to a fresh start and so on. I spoke to Craig in Palembang. He
+is getting on in years, and wanted a manager or partner. I
+promised to guarantee Willems' good behaviour. We settled all
+that. Craig is an old crony of mine. Been shipmates in the
+forties. He's waiting for him now. A pretty mess! What do you
+think?"
+
+Almayer shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"That woman broke with Hudig on my assurance that all would be
+well," went on Lingard, with growing dismay. "She did. Proper
+thing, of course. Wife, husband . . . together . . . as it
+should be . . . Smart fellow . . . Impossible scoundrel . . .
+Jolly old go! Oh! damn!"
+
+Almayer laughed spitefully.
+
+"How delighted he will be," he said, softly. "You will make two
+people happy. Two at least!" He laughed again, while Lingard
+looked at his shaking shoulders in consternation.
+
+"I am jammed on a lee shore this time, if ever I was," muttered
+Lingard.
+
+"Send her back quick," suggested Almayer, stifling another laugh.
+
+"What are you sniggering at?" growled Lingard, angrily. "I'll
+work it out all clear yet. Meantime you must receive her into
+this house."
+
+"My house!" cried Almayer, turning round.
+
+"It's mine too--a little isn't it?" said Lingard. "Don't argue,"
+he shouted, as Almayer opened his mouth. "Obey orders and hold
+your tongue!"
+
+"Oh! If you take it in that tone!" mumbled Almayer, sulkily,
+with a gesture of assent.
+
+"You are so aggravating too, my boy," said the old seaman, with
+unexpected placidity. "You must give me time to turn round. I
+can't keep her on board all the time. I must tell her something.
+Say, for instance, that he is gone up the river. Expected back
+every day. That's it. D'ye hear? You must put her on that tack
+and dodge her along easy, while I take the kinks out of the
+situation. By God!" he exclaimed, mournfully, after a short
+pause, "life is foul! Foul like a lee forebrace on a dirty
+night. And yet. And yet. One must see it clear for running
+before going below--for good. Now you attend to what I said," he
+added, sharply, "if you don't want to quarrel with me, my boy."
+
+"I don't want to quarrel with you," murmured Almayer with
+unwilling deference. "Only I wish I could understand you. I
+know you are my best friend, Captain Lingard; only, upon my word,
+I can't make you out sometimes! I wish I could . . ."
+
+Lingard burst into a loud laugh which ended shortly in a deep
+sigh. He closed his eyes, tilting his head over the back of his
+armchair; and on his face, baked by the unclouded suns of many
+hard years, there appeared for a moment a weariness and a look of
+age which startled Almayer, like an unexpected disclosure of
+evil.
+
+"I am done up," said Lingard, gently. "Perfectly done up. All
+night on deck getting that schooner up the river. Then talking
+with you. Seems to me I could go to sleep on a clothes-line. I
+should like to eat something though. Just see about that,
+Kaspar."
+
+Almayer clapped his hands, and receiving no response was going to
+call, when in the central passage of the house, behind the red
+curtain of the doorway opening upon the verandah, they heard a
+child's imperious voice speaking shrilly.
+
+"Take me up at once. I want to be carried into the verandah. I
+shall be very angry. Take me up."
+
+A man's voice answered, subdued, in humble remonstrance. The
+faces of Almayer and Lingard brightened at once. The old seaman
+called out--
+
+"Bring the child. Lekas!"
+
+"You will see how she has grown," exclaimed Almayer, in a
+jubilant tone.
+
+Through the curtained doorway Ali appeared with little Nina
+Almayer in his arms. The child had one arm round his neck, and
+with the other she hugged a ripe pumelo nearly as big as her own
+head. Her little pink, sleeveless robe had half slipped off her
+shoulders, but the long black hair, that framed her olive face,
+in which the big black eyes looked out in childish solemnity,
+fell in luxuriant profusion over her shoulders, all round her and
+over Ali's arms, like a close-meshed and delicate net of silken
+threads. Lingard got up to meet Ali, and as soon as she caught
+sight of the old seaman she dropped the fruit and put out both
+her hands with a cry of delight. He took her from the Malay, and
+she laid hold of his moustaches with an affectionate goodwill
+that brought unaccustomed tears into his little red eyes.
+
+"Not so hard, little one, not so hard," he murmured, pressing
+with an enormous hand, that covered it entirely, the child's head
+to his face.
+
+"Pick up my pumelo, O Rajah of the sea!" she said, speaking in a
+high-pitched, clear voice with great volubility. "There, under
+the table. I want it quick! Quick! You have been away fighting
+with many men. Ali says so. You are a mighty fighter. Ali says
+so. On the great sea far away, away, away."
+
+She waved her hand, staring with dreamy vacancy, while Lingard
+looked at her, and squatting down groped under the table after
+the pumelo.
+
+"Where does she get those notions?" said Lingard, getting up
+cautiously, to Almayer, who had been giving orders to Ali.
+
+"She is always with the men. Many a time I've found her with her
+fingers in their rice dish, of an evening. She does not care for
+her mother though--I am glad to say. How pretty she is--and so
+sharp. My very image!"
+
+Lingard had put the child on the table, and both men stood
+looking at her with radiant faces.
+
+"A perfect little woman," whispered Lingard. "Yes, my dear boy,
+we shall make her somebody. You'll see!"
+
+"Very little chance of that now," remarked Almayer, sadly.
+
+"You do not know!" exclaimed Lingard, taking up the child again,
+and beginning to walk up and down the verandah. "I have my
+plans. I have--listen."
+
+And he began to explain to the interested Almayer his plans for
+the future. He would interview Abdulla and Lakamba. There must
+be some understanding with those fellows now they had the upper
+hand. Here he interrupted himself to swear freely, while the
+child, who had been diligently fumbling about his neck, had found
+his whistle and blew a loud blast now and then close to his
+ear--which made him wince and laugh as he put her hands down,
+scolding her lovingly. Yes--that would be easily settled. He
+was a man to be reckoned with yet. Nobody knew that better than
+Almayer. Very well. Then he must patiently try and keep some
+little trade together. It would be all right. But the great
+thing--and here Lingard spoke lower, bringing himself to a sudden
+standstill before the entranced Almayer--the great thing would be
+the gold hunt up the river. He--Lingard--would devote himself to
+it. He had been in the interior before. There were immense
+deposits of alluvial gold there. Fabulous. He felt sure. Had
+seen places. Dangerous work? Of course! But what a reward! He
+would explore--and find. Not a shadow of doubt. Hang the
+danger! They would first get as much as they could for
+themselves. Keep the thing quiet. Then after a time form a
+Company. In Batavia or in England. Yes, in England. Much
+better. Splendid! Why, of course. And that baby would be the
+richest woman in the world. He--Lingard--would not, perhaps, see
+it--although he felt good for many years yet--but Almayer would.
+Here was something to live for yet! Hey?
+
+But the richest woman in the world had been for the last five
+minutes shouting shrilly--"Rajah Laut! Rajah Laut! Hai! Give
+ear!" while the old seaman had been speaking louder,
+unconsciously, to make his deep bass heard above the impatient
+clamour. He stopped now and said tenderly--
+
+"What is it, little woman?"
+
+"I am not a little woman. I am a white child. Anak Putih. A
+white child; and the white men are my brothers. Father says so.
+And Ali says so too. Ali knows as much as father. Everything."
+
+Almayer almost danced with paternal delight.
+
+"I taught her. I taught her," he repeated, laughing with tears
+in his eyes. "Isn't she sharp?"
+
+"I am the slave of the white child," said Lingard, with playful
+solemnity. "What is the order?"
+
+"I want a house," she warbled, with great eagerness. "I want a
+house, and another house on the roof, and another on the
+roof--high. High! Like the places where they dwell--my
+brothers--in the land where the sun sleeps."
+
+"To the westward," explained Almayer, under his breath. "She
+remembers everything. She wants you to build a house of cards.
+You did, last time you were here."
+
+Lingard sat down with the child on his knees, and Almayer pulled
+out violently one drawer after another, looking for the cards, as
+if the fate of the world depended upon his haste. He produced a
+dirty double pack which was only used during Lingard's visit to
+Sambir, when he would sometimes play--of an evening--with
+Almayer, a game which he called Chinese bezique. It bored
+Almayer, but the old seaman delighted in it, considering it a
+remarkable product of Chinese genius--a race for which he had an
+unaccountable liking and admiration.
+
+"Now we will get on, my little pearl," he said, putting together
+with extreme precaution two cards that looked absurdly flimsy
+between his big fingers. Little Nina watched him with intense
+seriousness as he went on erecting the ground floor, while he
+continued to speak to Almayer with his head over his shoulder so
+as not to endanger the structure with his breath.
+
+"I know what I am talking about. . . . Been in California in
+forty-nine. . . . Not that I made much . . . then in Victoria in
+the early days. . . . I know all about it. Trust me. Moreover
+a blind man could . . . Be quiet, little sister, or you will
+knock this affair down. . . . My hand pretty steady yet! Hey,
+Kaspar? . . . Now, delight of my heart, we shall put a third
+house on the top of these two . . . keep very quiet. . . . As I
+was saying, you got only to stoop and gather handfuls of gold . .
+. dust . . . there. Now here we are. Three houses on top of one
+another. Grand!"
+
+He leaned back in his chair, one hand on the child's head, which
+he smoothed mechanically, and gesticulated with the other,
+speaking to Almayer.
+
+"Once on the spot, there would be only the trouble to pick up the
+stuff. Then we shall all go to Europe. The child must be
+educated. We shall be rich. Rich is no name for it. Down in
+Devonshire where I belong, there was a fellow who built a house
+near Teignmouth which had as many windows as a three-decker has
+ports. Made all his money somewhere out here in the good old
+days. People around said he had been a pirate. We boys--I was a
+boy in a Brixham trawler then--certainly believed that. He went
+about in a bath-chair in his grounds. Had a glass eye . . ."
+
+"Higher, Higher!" called out Nina, pulling the old seaman's
+beard.
+
+"You do worry me--don't you?" said Lingard, gently, giving her a
+tender kiss. "What? One more house on top of all these? Well!
+I will try."
+
+The child watched him breathlessly. When the difficult feat was
+accomplished she clapped her hands, looked on steadily, and after
+a while gave a great sigh of content.
+
+"Oh! Look out!" shouted Almayer.
+
+The structure collapsed suddenly before the child's light breath.
+Lingard looked discomposed for a moment. Almayer laughed, but
+the little girl began to cry.
+
+"Take her," said the old seaman, abruptly. Then, after Almayer
+went away with the crying child, he remained sitting by the
+table, looking gloomily at the heap of cards.
+
+"Damn this Willems," he muttered to himself. "But I will do it
+yet!"
+
+He got up, and with an angry push of his hand swept the cards off
+the table. Then he fell back in his chair.
+
+"Tired as a dog," he sighed out, closing his eyes.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+
+Consciously or unconsciously, men are proud of their firmness,
+steadfastness of purpose, directness of aim. They go straight
+towards their desire, to the accomplishment of virtue--sometimes
+of crime--in an uplifting persuasion of their firmness. They
+walk the road of life, the road fenced in by their tastes,
+prejudices, disdains or enthusiasms, generally honest, invariably
+stupid, and are proud of never losing their way. If they do
+stop, it is to look for a moment over the hedges that make them
+safe, to look at the misty valleys, at the distant peaks, at
+cliffs and morasses, at the dark forests and the hazy plains
+where other human beings grope their days painfully away,
+stumbling over the bones of the wise, over the unburied remains
+of their predecessors who died alone, in gloom or in sunshine,
+halfway from anywhere. The man of purpose does not understand,
+and goes on, full of contempt. He never loses his way. He knows
+where he is going and what he wants. Travelling on, he achieves
+great length without any breadth, and battered, besmirched, and
+weary, he touches the goal at last; he grasps the reward of his
+perseverance, of his virtue, of his healthy optimism: an
+untruthful tombstone over a dark and soon forgotten grave.
+
+Lingard had never hesitated in his life. Why should he? He had
+been a most successful trader, and a man lucky in his fights,
+skilful in navigation, undeniably first in seamanship in those
+seas. He knew it. Had he not heard the voice of common consent?
+
+The voice of the world that respected him so much; the whole
+world to him--for to us the limits of the universe are strictly
+defined by those we know. There is nothing for us outside the
+babble of praise and blame on familiar lips, and beyond our last
+acquaintance there lies only a vast chaos; a chaos of laughter
+and tears which concerns us not; laughter and tears unpleasant,
+wicked, morbid, contemptible--because heard imperfectly by ears
+rebellious to strange sounds. To Lingard--simple himself--all
+things were simple. He seldom read. Books were not much in his
+way, and he had to work hard navigating, trading, and also, in
+obedience to his benevolent instincts, shaping stray lives he
+found here and there under his busy hand. He remembered the
+Sunday-school teachings of his native village and the discourses
+of the black-coated gentleman connected with the Mission to
+Fishermen and Seamen, whose yawl-rigged boat darting through
+rain-squalls amongst the coasters wind-bound in Falmouth Bay, was
+part of those precious pictures of his youthful days that
+lingered in his memory. "As clever a sky-pilot as you could wish
+to see," he would say with conviction, "and the best man to
+handle a boat in any weather I ever did meet!" Such were the
+agencies that had roughly shaped his young soul before he went
+away to see the world in a southern-going ship--before he went,
+ignorant and happy, heavy of hand, pure in heart, profane in
+speech, to give himself up to the great sea that took his life
+and gave him his fortune. When thinking of his rise in the
+world--commander of ships, then shipowner, then a man of much
+capital, respected wherever he went, Lingard in a word, the Rajah
+Laut--he was amazed and awed by his fate, that seemed to his
+ill-informed mind the most wondrous known in the annals of men.
+His experience appeared to him immense and conclusive, teaching
+him the lesson of the simplicity of life. In life--as in
+seamanship--there were only two ways of doing a thing: the right
+way and the wrong way. Common sense and experience taught a man
+the way that was right. The other was for lubbers and fools, and
+led, in seamanship, to loss of spars and sails or shipwreck; in
+life, to loss of money and consideration, or to an unlucky knock
+on the head. He did not consider it his duty to be angry with
+rascals. He was only angry with things he could not understand,
+but for the weaknesses of humanity he could find a contemptuous
+tolerance. It being manifest that he was wise and
+lucky--otherwise how could he have been as successful in life as
+he had been?--he had an inclination to set right the lives of
+other people, just as he could hardly refrain--in defiance of
+nautical etiquette--from interfering with his chief officer when
+the crew was sending up a new topmast, or generally when busy
+about, what he called, "a heavy job." He was meddlesome with
+perfect modesty; if he knew a thing or two there was no merit in
+it. "Hard knocks taught me wisdom, my boy," he used to say, "and
+you had better take the advice of a man who has been a fool in
+his time. Have another." And "my boy" as a rule took the cool
+drink, the advice, and the consequent help which Lingard felt
+himself bound in honour to give, so as to back up his opinion
+like an honest man. Captain Tom went sailing from island to
+island, appearing unexpectedly in various localities, beaming,
+noisy, anecdotal, commendatory or comminatory, but always
+welcome.
+
+It was only since his return to Sambir that the old seaman had
+for the first time known doubt and unhappiness, The loss of the
+Flash--planted firmly and for ever on a ledge of rock at the
+north end of Gaspar Straits in the uncertain light of a cloudy
+morning--shook him considerably; and the amazing news which he
+heard on his arrival in Sambir were not made to soothe his
+feelings. A good many years ago--prompted by his love of
+adventure--he, with infinite trouble, had found out and
+surveyed--for his own benefit only--the entrances to that river,
+where, he had heard through native report, a new settlement of
+Malays was forming. No doubt he thought at the time mostly of
+personal gain; but, received with hearty friendliness by
+Patalolo, he soon came to like the ruler and the people, offered
+his counsel and his help, and--knowing nothing of Arcadia--he
+dreamed of Arcadian happiness for that little corner of the world
+which he loved to think all his own. His deep-seated and
+immovable conviction that only he--he, Lingard--knew what was
+good for them was characteristic of him. and, after all, not so
+very far wrong. He would make them happy whether or no, he said,
+and he meant it. His trade brought prosperity to the young state,
+and the fear of his heavy hand secured its internal peace for
+many years.
+
+He looked proudly upon his work. With every passing year he
+loved more the land, the people, the muddy river that, if he
+could help it, would carry no other craft but the Flash on its
+unclean and friendly surface. As he slowly warped his vessel
+up-stream he would scan with knowing looks the riverside
+clearings, and pronounce solemn judgment upon the prospects of
+the season's rice-crop. He knew every settler on the banks
+between the sea and Sambir; he knew their wives, their children;
+he knew every individual of the multi-coloured groups that,
+standing on the flimsy platforms of tiny reed dwellings built
+over the water, waved their hands and shouted shrilly: "O! Kapal
+layer! Hai!" while the Flash swept slowly through the populated
+reach, to enter the lonely stretches of sparkling brown water
+bordered by the dense and silent forest, whose big trees nodded
+their outspread boughs gently in the faint, warm breeze--as if in
+sign of tender but melancholy welcome. He loved it all: the
+landscape of brown golds and brilliant emeralds under the dome of
+hot sapphire; the whispering big trees; the loquacious nipa-palms
+that rattled their leaves volubly in the night breeze, as if in
+haste to tell him all the secrets of the great forest behind
+them. He loved the heavy scents of blossoms and black earth,
+that breath of life and of death which lingered over his brig in
+the damp air of tepid and peaceful nights. He loved the narrow
+and sombre creeks, strangers to sunshine: black, smooth,
+tortuous--like byways of despair. He liked even the troops of
+sorrowful-faced monkeys that profaned the quiet spots with
+capricious gambols and insane gestures of inhuman madness. He
+loved everything there, animated or inanimated; the very mud of
+the riverside; the very alligators, enormous and stolid, basking
+on it with impertinent unconcern. Their size was a source of
+pride to him. "Immense fellows! Make two of them Palembang
+reptiles! I tell you, old man!" he would shout, poking some
+crony of his playfully in the ribs: "I tell you, big as you are,
+they could swallow you in one gulp, hat, boots and all!
+Magnificent beggars! Wouldn't you like to see them? Wouldn't
+you! Ha! ha! ha!" His thunderous laughter filled the verandah,
+rolled over the hotel garden, overflowed into the street,
+paralyzing for a short moment the noiseless traffic of bare brown
+feet; and its loud reverberations would even startle the
+landlord's tame bird--a shameless mynah--into a momentary
+propriety of behaviour under the nearest chair. In the big
+billiard-room perspiring men in thin cotton singlets would stop
+the game, listen, cue in hand, for a while through the open
+windows, then nod their moist faces at each other sagaciously and
+whisper: "The old fellow is talking about his river."
+
+His river! The whispers of curious men, the mystery of the
+thing, were to Lingard a source of never-ending delight. The
+common talk of ignorance exaggerated the profits of his queer
+monopoly, and, although strictly truthful in general, he liked,
+on that matter, to mislead speculation still further by boasts
+full of cold raillery. His river! By it he was not only
+rich--he was interesting. This secret of his which made him
+different to the other traders of those seas gave intimate
+satisfaction to that desire for singularity which he shared with
+the rest of mankind, without being aware of its presence within
+his breast. It was the greater part of his happiness, but he
+only knew it after its loss, so unforeseen, so sudden and so
+cruel.
+
+After his conversation with Almayer he went on board the
+schooner, sent Joanna on shore, and shut himself up in his cabin,
+feeling very unwell. He made the most of his indisposition to
+Almayer, who came to visit him twice a day. It was an excuse for
+doing nothing just yet. He wanted to think. He was very angry.
+Angry with himself, with Willems. Angry at what Willems had
+done--and also angry at what he had left undone. The scoundrel
+was not complete. The conception was perfect, but the execution,
+unaccountably, fell short. Why? He ought to have cut Almayer's
+throat and burnt the place to ashes--then cleared out. Got out
+of his way; of him, Lingard! Yet he didn't. Was it impudence,
+contempt--or what? He felt hurt at the implied disrespect of his
+power, and the incomplete rascality of the proceeding disturbed
+him exceedingly. There was something short, something wanting,
+something that would have given him a free hand in the work of
+retribution. The obvious, the right thing to do, was to shoot
+Willems. Yet how could he? Had the fellow resisted, showed
+fight, or ran away; had he shown any consciousness of harm done,
+it would have been more possible, more natural. But no! The
+fellow actually had sent him a message. Wanted to see him. What
+for? The thing could not be explained. An unexampled,
+cold-blooded treachery, awful, incomprehensible. Why did he do
+it? Why? Why? The old seaman in the stuffy solitude of his
+little cabin on board the schooner groaned out many times that
+question, striking with an open palm his perplexed forehead.
+
+During his four days of seclusion he had received two messages
+from the outer world; from that world of Sambir which had, so
+suddenly and so finally, slipped from his grasp. One, a few
+words from Willems written on a torn-out page of a small
+notebook; the other, a communication from Abdulla caligraphed
+carefully on a large sheet of flimsy paper and delivered to him
+in a green silk wrapper. The first he could not understand. It
+said: "Come and see me. I am not afraid. Are you? W." He
+tore it up angrily, but before the small bits of dirty paper had
+the time to flutter down and settle on the floor, the anger was
+gone and was replaced by a sentiment that induced him to go on
+his knees, pick up the fragments of the torn message, piece it
+together on the top of his chronometer box, and contemplate it
+long and thoughtfully, as if he had hoped to read the answer of
+the horrible riddle in the very form of the letters that went to
+make up that fresh insult. Abdulla's letter he read carefully
+and rammed it into his pocket, also with anger, but with anger
+that ended in a half-resigned, half-amused smile. He would never
+give in as long as there was a chance. "It's generally the
+safest way to stick to the ship as long as she will swim," was
+one of his favourite sayings: "The safest and the right way. To
+abandon a craft because it leaks is easy--but poor work. Poor
+work!" Yet he was intelligent enough to know when he was beaten,
+and to accept the situation like a man, without repining. When
+Almayer came on board that afternoon he handed him the letter
+without comment.
+
+Almayer read it, returned it in silence, and leaning over the
+taffrail (the two men were on deck) looked down for some time at
+the play of the eddies round the schooner's rudder. At last he
+said without looking up--
+
+"That's a decent enough letter. Abdulla gives him up to you. I
+told you they were getting sick of him. What are you going to
+do?"
+
+Lingard cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, opened his mouth
+with great determination, but said nothing for a while. At last
+he murmured--
+
+"I'll be hanged if I know--just yet."
+
+"I wish you would do something soon . . ."
+
+"What's the hurry?" interrupted Lingard. "He can't get away. As
+it stands he is at my mercy, as far as I can see."
+
+"Yes," said Almayer, reflectively--"and very little mercy he
+deserves too. Abdulla's meaning--as I can make it out amongst
+all those compliments--is: 'Get rid for me of that white man--and
+we shall live in peace and share the trade."'
+
+"You believe that?" asked Lingard, contemptuously.
+
+"Not altogether," answered Almayer. "No doubt we will share the
+trade for a time--till he can grab the lot. Well, what are you
+going to do?"
+
+He looked up as he spoke and was surprised to see Lingard's
+discomposed face.
+
+"You ain't well. Pain anywhere?" he asked, with real solicitude.
+
+"I have been queer--you know--these last few days, but no pain."
+He struck his broad chest several times, cleared his throat with
+a powerful "Hem!" and repeated: "No. No pain. Good for a few
+years yet. But I am bothered with all this, I can tell you!"
+
+"You must take care of yourself," said Almayer. Then after a
+pause he added: "You will see Abdulla. Won't you?"
+
+"I don't know. Not yet. There's plenty of time," said Lingard,
+impatiently.
+
+"I wish you would do something," urged Almayer, moodily. "You
+know, that woman is a perfect nuisance to me. She and her brat!
+Yelps all day. And the children don't get on together. Yesterday
+the little devil wanted to fight with my Nina. Scratched her
+face, too. A perfect savage! Like his honourable papa. Yes,
+really. She worries about her husband, and whimpers from morning
+to night. When she isn't weeping she is furious with me.
+Yesterday she tormented me to tell her when he would be back and
+cried because he was engaged in such dangerous work. I said
+something about it being all right--no necessity to make a fool
+of herself, when she turned upon me like a wild cat. Called me a
+brute, selfish, heartless; raved about her beloved Peter risking
+his life for my benefit, while I did not care. Said I took
+advantage of his generous good-nature to get him to do dangerous
+work--my work. That he was worth twenty of the likes of me.
+That she would tell you--open your eyes as to the kind of man I
+was, and so on. That's what I've got to put up with for your
+sake. You really might consider me a little. I haven't robbed
+anybody," went on Almayer, with an attempt at bitter irony--"or
+sold my best friend, but still you ought to have some pity on me.
+It's like living in a hot fever. She is out of her wits. You
+make my house a refuge for scoundrels and lunatics. It isn't
+fair. 'Pon my word it isn't! When she is in her tantrums she is
+ridiculously ugly and screeches so--it sets my teeth on edge.
+Thank God! my wife got a fit of the sulks and cleared out of the
+house. Lives in a riverside hut since that affair--you know.
+But this Willems' wife by herself is almost more than I can bear.
+And I ask myself why should I? You are exacting and no mistake.
+This morning I thought she was going to claw me. Only think!
+She wanted to go prancing about the settlement. She might have
+heard something there, so I told her she mustn't. It wasn't safe
+outside our fences, I said. Thereupon she rushes at me with her
+ten nails up to my eyes. 'You miserable man,' she yells, 'even
+this place is not safe, and you've sent him up this awful river
+where he may lose his head. If he dies before forgiving me,
+Heaven will punish you for your crime . . .' My crime! I ask
+myself sometimes whether I am dreaming! It will make me ill, all
+this. I've lost my appetite already."
+
+He flung his hat on deck and laid hold of his hair despairingly.
+Lingard looked at him with concern.
+
+"What did she mean by it?" he muttered, thoughtfully.
+
+"Mean! She is crazy, I tell you--and I will be, very soon, if
+this lasts!"
+
+"Just a little patience, Kaspar," pleaded Lingard. "A day or so
+more."
+
+Relieved or tired by his violent outburst, Almayer calmed down,
+picked up his hat and, leaning against the bulwark, commenced to
+fan himself with it.
+
+"Days do pass," he said, resignedly--"but that kind of thing
+makes a man old before his time. What is there to think
+about?--I can't imagine! Abdulla says plainly that if you
+undertake to pilot his ship out and instruct the half-caste, he
+will drop Willems like a hot potato and be your friend ever
+after. I believe him perfectly, as to Willems. It's so natural.
+As to being your friend it's a lie of course, but we need not
+bother about that just yet. You just say yes to Abdulla, and
+then whatever happens to Willems will be nobody's business."
+
+He interrupted himself and remained silent for a while, glaring
+about with set teeth and dilated nostrils.
+
+"You leave it to me. I'll see to it that something happens to
+him," he said at last, with calm ferocity. Lingard smiled
+faintly.
+
+"The fellow isn't worth a shot. Not the trouble of it," he
+whispered, as if to himself. Almayer fired up suddenly.
+
+"That's what you think," he cried. "You haven't been sewn up in
+your hammock to be made a laughing-stock of before a parcel of
+savages. Why! I daren't look anybody here in the face while
+that scoundrel is alive. I will . . . I will settle him."
+
+"I don't think you will," growled Lingard.
+
+"Do you think I am afraid of him?"
+
+"Bless you! no!" said Lingard with alacrity. "Afraid! Not you.
+I know you. I don't doubt your courage. It's your head, my boy,
+your head that I . . ."
+
+"That's it," said the aggrieved Almayer. "Go on. Why don't you
+call me a fool at once?"
+
+"Because I don't want to," burst out Lingard, with nervous
+irritability. "If I wanted to call you a fool, I would do so
+without asking your leave." He began to walk athwart the narrow
+quarter-deck, kicking ropes' ends out of his way and growling to
+himself: "Delicate gentleman . . . what next? . . . I've done
+man's work before you could toddle. Understand . . . say what I
+like."
+
+"Well! well!" said Almayer, with affected resignation. "There's
+no talking to you these last few days." He put on his hat,
+strolled to the gangway and stopped, one foot on the little
+inside ladder, as if hesitating, came back and planted himself in
+Lingard's way, compelling him to stand still and listen.
+
+"Of course you will do what you like. You never take advice--I
+know that; but let me tell you that it wouldn't be honest to let
+that fellow get away from here. If you do nothing, that
+scoundrel will leave in Abdulla's ship for sure. Abdulla will
+make use of him to hurt you and others elsewhere. Willems knows
+too much about your affairs. He will cause you lots of trouble.
+You mark my words. Lots of trouble. To you--and to others
+perhaps. Think of that, Captain Lingard. That's all I've got to
+say. Now I must go back on shore. There's lots of work. We
+will begin loading this schooner to-morrow morning, first thing.
+All the bundles are ready. If you should want me for anything,
+hoist some kind of flag on the mainmast. At night two shots will
+fetch me." Then he added, in a friendly tone, "Won't you come
+and dine in the house to-night? It can't be good for you to stew
+on board like that, day after day."
+
+Lingard did not answer. The image evoked by Almayer; the picture
+of Willems ranging over the islands and disturbing the harmony of
+the universe by robbery, treachery, and violence, held him
+silent, entranced--painfully spellbound. Almayer, after waiting
+for a little while, moved reluctantly towards the gangway,
+lingered there, then sighed and got over the side, going down
+step by step. His head disappeared slowly below the rail.
+Lingard, who had been staring at him absently, started suddenly,
+ran to the side, and looking over, called out--
+
+"Hey! Kaspar! Hold on a bit!"
+
+Almayer signed to his boatmen to cease paddling, and turned his
+head towards the schooner. The boat drifted back slowly abreast
+of Lingard, nearly alongside.
+
+"Look here," said Lingard, looking down--"I want a good canoe
+with four men to-day."
+
+"Do you want it now?" asked Almayer.
+
+"No! Catch this rope. Oh, you clumsy devil! . . . No, Kaspar,"
+went on Lingard, after the bow-man had got hold of the end of the
+brace he had thrown down into the canoe--"No, Kaspar. The sun is
+too much for me. And it would be better to keep my affairs
+quiet, too. Send the canoe--four good paddlers, mind, and your
+canvas chair for me to sit in. Send it about sunset. D'ye
+hear?"
+
+"All right, father," said Almayer, cheerfully--"I will send Ali
+for a steersman, and the best men I've got. Anything else?"
+
+"No, my lad. Only don't let them be late."
+
+"I suppose it's no use asking you where you are going," said
+Almayer, tentatively. "Because if it is to see Abdulla, I . . ."
+
+"I am not going to see Abdulla. Not to-day. Now be off with
+you."
+
+He watched the canoe dart away shorewards, waved his hand in
+response to Almayer's nod, and walked to the taffrail smoothing
+out Abdulla's letter, which he had pulled out of his pocket. He
+read it over carefully, crumpled it up slowly, smiling the while
+and closing his fingers firmly over the crackling paper as though
+he had hold there of Abdulla's throat. Halfway to his pocket he
+changed his mind, and flinging the ball overboard looked at it
+thoughtfully as it spun round in the eddies for a moment, before
+the current bore it away down-stream, towards the sea.
+
+
+
+
+PART IV
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+The night was very dark. For the first time in many months the
+East Coast slept unseen by the stars under a veil of motionless
+cloud that, driven before the first breath of the rainy monsoon,
+had drifted slowly from the eastward all the afternoon; pursuing
+the declining sun with its masses of black and grey that seemed
+to chase the light with wicked intent, and with an ominous and
+gloomy steadiness, as though conscious of the message of violence
+and turmoil they carried. At the sun's disappearance below the
+western horizon, the immense cloud, in quickened motion, grappled
+with the glow of retreating light, and rolling down to the clear
+and jagged outline of the distant mountains, hung arrested above
+the steaming forests; hanging low, silent and menacing over the
+unstirring tree-tops; withholding the blessing of rain, nursing
+the wrath of its thunder; undecided--as if brooding over its own
+power for good or for evil.
+
+Babalatchi, coming out of the red and smoky light of his little
+bamboo house, glanced upwards, drew in a long breath of the warm
+and stagnant air, and stood for a moment with his good eye closed
+tightly, as if intimidated by the unwonted and deep silence of
+Lakamba's courtyard. When he opened his eye he had recovered his
+sight so far, that he could distinguish the various degrees of
+formless blackness which marked the places of trees, of abandoned
+houses, of riverside bushes, on the dark background of the night.
+
+The careworn sage walked cautiously down the deserted courtyard
+to the waterside, and stood on the bank listening to the voice of
+the invisible river that flowed at his feet; listening to the
+soft whispers, to the deep murmurs, to the sudden gurgles and the
+short hisses of the swift current racing along the bank through
+the hot darkness.
+
+He stood with his face turned to the river, and it seemed to him
+that he could breathe easier with the knowledge of the clear vast
+space before him; then, after a while he leaned heavily forward
+on his staff, his chin fell on his breast, and a deep sigh was
+his answer to the selfish discourse of the river that hurried on
+unceasing and fast, regardless of joy or sorrow, of suffering and
+of strife, of failures and triumphs that lived on its banks. The
+brown water was there, ready to carry friends or enemies, to
+nurse love or hate on its submissive and heartless bosom, to help
+or to hinder, to save life or give death; the great and rapid
+river: a deliverance, a prison, a refuge or a grave.
+
+Perchance such thoughts as these caused Babalatchi to send
+another mournful sigh into the trailing mists of the unconcerned
+Pantai. The barbarous politician had forgotten the recent
+success of his plottings in the melancholy contemplation of a
+sorrow that made the night blacker, the clammy heat more
+oppressive, the still air more heavy, the dumb solitude more
+significant of torment than of peace. He had spent the night
+before by the side of the dying Omar, and now, after twenty-four
+hours, his memory persisted in returning to that low and sombre
+reed hut from which the fierce spirit of the incomparably
+accomplished pirate took its flight, to learn too late, in a
+worse world, the error of its earthly ways. The mind of the
+savage statesman, chastened by bereavement, felt for a moment the
+weight of his loneliness with keen perception worthy even of a
+sensibility exasperated by all the refinements of tender
+sentiment that a glorious civilization brings in its train, among
+other blessings and virtues, into this excellent world. For the
+space of about thirty seconds, a half-naked, betel-chewing
+pessimist stood upon the bank of the tropical river, on the edge
+of the still and immense forests; a man angry, powerless,
+empty-handed, with a cry of bitter discontent ready on his lips;
+a cry that, had it come out, would have rung through the virgin
+solitudes of the woods, as true, as great, as profound, as any
+philosophical shriek that ever came from the depths of an
+easy-chair to disturb the impure wilderness of chimneys and
+roofs.
+
+For half a minute and no more did Babalatchi face the gods in the
+sublime privilege of his revolt, and then the one-eyed puller of
+wires became himself again, full of care and wisdom and
+far-reaching plans, and a victim to the tormenting superstitions
+of his race. The night, no matter how quiet, is never perfectly
+silent to attentive ears, and now Babalatchi fancied he could
+detect in it other noises than those caused by the ripples and
+eddies of the river. He turned his head sharply to the right and
+to the left in succession, and then spun round quickly in a
+startled and watchful manner, as if he had expected to see the
+blind ghost of his departed leader wandering in the obscurity of
+the empty courtyard behind his back. Nothing there. Yet he had
+heard a noise; a strange noise! No doubt a ghostly voice of a
+complaining and angry spirit. He listened. Not a sound.
+Reassured, Babalatchi made a few paces towards his house, when a
+very human noise, that of hoarse coughing, reached him from the
+river. He stopped, listened attentively, but now without any
+sign of emotion, and moving briskly back to the waterside stood
+expectant with parted lips, trying to pierce with his eye the
+wavering curtain of mist that hung low over the water. He could
+see nothing, yet some people in a canoe must have been very near,
+for he heard words spoken in an ordinary tone.
+
+"Do you think this is the place, Ali? I can see nothing."
+
+"It must be near here, Tuan," answered another voice. "Shall we
+try the bank?"
+
+"No! . . . Let drift a little. If you go poking into the bank
+in the dark you might stove the canoe on some log. We must be
+careful. . . . Let drift! Let drift! . . . This does seem to be
+a clearing of some sort. We may see a light by and by from some
+house or other. In Lakamba's campong there are many houses?
+Hey?"
+
+"A great number, Tuan . . . I do not see any light."
+
+"Nor I," grumbled the first voice again, this time nearly abreast
+of the silent Babalatchi who looked uneasily towards his own
+house, the doorway of which glowed with the dim light of a torch
+burning within. The house stood end on to the river, and its
+doorway faced down-stream, so Babalatchi reasoned rapidly that
+the strangers on the river could not see the light from the
+position their boat was in at the moment. He could not make up
+his mind to call out to them, and while he hesitated he heard the
+voices again, but now some way below the landing-place where he
+stood.
+
+"Nothing. This cannot be it. Let them give way, Ali! Dayong
+there!"
+
+That order was followed by the splash of paddles, then a sudden
+cry--
+
+"I see a light. I see it! Now I know where to land, Tuan."
+
+There was more splashing as the canoe was paddled sharply round
+and came back up-stream close to the bank.
+
+"Call out," said very near a deep voice, which Babalatchi felt
+sure must belong to a white man. "Call out--and somebody may
+come with a torch. I can't see anything."
+
+The loud hail that succeeded these words was emitted nearly under
+the silent listener's nose. Babalatchi, to preserve appearances,
+ran with long but noiseless strides halfway up the courtyard, and
+only then shouted in answer and kept on shouting as he walked
+slowly back again towards the river bank. He saw there an
+indistinct shape of a boat, not quite alongside the
+landing-place.
+
+"Who speaks on the river?" asked Babalatchi, throwing a tone of
+surprise into his question.
+
+"A white man," answered Lingard from the canoe. "Is there not
+one torch in rich Lakamba's campong to light a guest on his
+landing?"
+
+"There are no torches and no men. I am alone here," said
+Babalatchi, with some hesitation.
+
+"Alone!" exclaimed Lingard. "Who are you?"
+
+"Only a servant of Lakamba. But land, Tuan Putih, and see my
+face. Here is my hand. No! Here! . . . By your mercy. . . .
+Ada! . . . Now you are safe."
+
+"And you are alone here?" said Lingard, moving with precaution a
+few steps into the courtyard. "How dark it is," he muttered to
+himself--"one would think the world had been painted black."
+
+"Yes. Alone. What more did you say, Tuan? I did not understand
+your talk."
+
+"It is nothing. I expected to find here . . . But where are they
+all?"
+
+"What matters where they are?" said Babalatchi, gloomily. "Have
+you come to see my people? The last departed on a long
+journey--and I am alone. Tomorrow I go too."
+
+"I came to see a white man," said Lingard, walking on slowly.
+"He is not gone, is he?"
+
+"No!" answered Babalatchi, at his elbow. "A man with a red skin
+and hard eyes," he went on, musingly, "whose hand is strong, and
+whose heart is foolish and weak. A white man indeed . . . But
+still a man."
+
+They were now at the foot of the short ladder which led to the
+split-bamboo platform surrounding Babalatchi's habitation. The
+faint light from the doorway fell down upon the two men's faces
+as they stood looking at each other curiously.
+
+"Is he there?" asked Lingard, in a low voice, with a wave of his
+hand upwards.
+
+Babalatchi, staring hard at his long-expected visitor, did not
+answer at once. "No, not there," he said at last, placing his
+foot on the lowest rung and looking back. "Not there, Tuan--yet
+not very far. Will you sit down in my dwelling? There may be
+rice and fish and clear water--not from the river, but from a
+spring . . ."
+
+"I am not hungry," interrupted Lingard, curtly, "and I did not
+come here to sit in your dwelling. Lead me to the white man who
+expects me. I have no time to lose."
+
+"The night is long, Tuan," went on Babalatchi, softly, "and there
+are other nights and other days. Long. Very long . . . How much
+time it takes for a man to die! O Rajah Laut!"
+
+ Lingard started.
+
+ "You know me!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Ay--wa! I have seen your face and felt your hand before--many
+years ago," said Babalatchi, holding on halfway up the ladder,
+and bending down from above to peer into Lingard's upturned face.
+"You do not remember--but I have not forgotten. There are many
+men like me: there is only one Rajah Laut."
+
+He climbed with sudden agility the last few steps, and stood on
+the platform waving his hand invitingly to Lingard, who followed
+after a short moment of indecision.
+
+The elastic bamboo floor of the hut bent under the heavy weight
+of the old seaman, who, standing within the threshold, tried to
+look into the smoky gloom of the low dwelling. Under the torch,
+thrust into the cleft of a stick, fastened at a right angle to
+the middle stay of the ridge pole, lay a red patch of light,
+showing a few shabby mats and a corner of a big wooden chest the
+rest of which was lost in shadow. In the obscurity of the more
+remote parts of the house a lance-head, a brass tray hung on the
+wall, the long barrel of a gun leaning against the chest, caught
+the stray rays of the smoky illumination in trembling gleams that
+wavered, disappeared, reappeared, went out, came back--as if
+engaged in a doubtful struggle with the darkness that, lying in
+wait in distant corners, seemed to dart out viciously towards its
+feeble enemy. The vast space under the high pitch of the roof
+was filled with a thick cloud of smoke, whose under-side--level
+like a ceiling--reflected the light of the swaying dull flame,
+while at the top it oozed out through the imperfect thatch of
+dried palm leaves. An indescribable and complicated smell, made
+up of the exhalation of damp earth below, of the taint of dried
+fish and of the effluvia of rotting vegetable matter, pervaded
+the place and caused Lingard to sniff strongly as he strode over,
+sat on the chest, and, leaning his elbows on his knees, took his
+head between his hands and stared at the doorway thoughtfully.
+
+Babalatchi moved about in the shadows, whispering to an
+indistinct form or two that flitted about at the far end of the
+hut. Without stirring Lingard glanced sideways, and caught sight
+of muffled-up human shapes that hovered for a moment near the
+edge of light and retreated suddenly back into the darkness.
+Babalatchi approached, and sat at Lingard's feet on a rolled-up
+bundle of mats.
+
+"Will you eat rice and drink sagueir?" he said. "I have waked up
+my household."
+
+"My friend," said Lingard, without looking at him, "when I come
+to see Lakamba, or any of Lakamba's servants, I am never hungry
+and never thirsty. Tau! Savee! Never! Do you think I am devoid
+of reason? That there is nothing there?"
+
+He sat up, and, fixing abruptly his eyes on Babalatchi, tapped
+his own forehead significantly.
+
+"Tse! Tse! Tse! How can you talk like that, Tuan!" exclaimed
+Babalatchi, in a horrified tone.
+
+"I talk as I think. I have lived many years," said Lingard,
+stretching his arm negligently to take up the gun, which he began
+to examine knowingly, cocking it, and easing down the hammer
+several times. "This is good. Mataram make. Old, too," he went
+on.
+
+"Hai!" broke in Babalatchi, eagerly. "I got it when I was young.
+He was an Aru trader, a man with a big stomach and a loud voice,
+and brave--very brave. When we came up with his prau in the grey
+morning, he stood aft shouting to his men and fired this gun at
+us once. Only once!" . . . He paused, laughed softly, and went
+on in a low, dreamy voice. "In the grey morning we came up:
+forty silent men in a swift Sulu prau; and when the sun was so
+high"--here he held up his hands about three feet apart--"when
+the sun was only so high, Tuan, our work was done--and there was
+a feast ready for the fishes of the sea."
+
+"Aye! aye!" muttered Lingard, nodding his head slowly. "I see.
+You should not let it get rusty like this," he added.
+
+He let the gun fall between his knees, and moving back on his
+seat, leaned his head against the wall of the hut, crossing his
+arms on his breast.
+
+"A good gun," went on Babalatchi. "Carry far and true. Better
+than this--there."
+
+With the tips of his fingers he touched gently the butt of a
+revolver peeping out of the right pocket of Lingard's white
+jacket.
+
+"Take your hand off that," said Lingard sharply, but in a
+good-humoured tone and without making the slightest movement.
+
+Babalatchi smiled and hitched his seat a little further off.
+
+For some time they sat in silence. Lingard, with his head tilted
+back, looked downwards with lowered eyelids at Babalatchi, who
+was tracing invisible lines with his finger on the mat between
+his feet. Outside, they could hear Ali and the other boatmen
+chattering and laughing round the fire they had lighted in the
+big and deserted courtyard.
+
+"Well, what about that white man?" said Lingard, quietly.
+
+It seemed as if Babalatchi had not heard the question. He went
+on tracing elaborate patterns on the floor for a good while.
+Lingard waited motionless. At last the Malay lifted his head.
+
+"Hai! The white man. I know!" he murmured absently. "This
+white man or another. . . . Tuan," he said aloud with unexpected
+animation, "you are a man of the sea?"
+
+"You know me. Why ask?" said Lingard, in a low tone.
+
+"Yes. A man of the sea--even as we are. A true Orang Laut,"
+went on Babalatchi, thoughtfully, "not like the rest of the white
+men."
+
+"I am like other whites, and do not wish to speak many words when
+the truth is short. I came here to see the white man that helped
+Lakamba against Patalolo, who is my friend. Show me where that
+white man lives; I want him to hear my talk."
+
+"Talk only? Tuan! Why hurry? The night is long and death is
+swift--as you ought to know; you who have dealt it to so many of
+my people. Many years ago I have faced you, arms in hand. Do
+you not remember? It was in Carimata--far from here."
+
+"I cannot remember every vagabond that came in my way," protested
+Lingard, seriously.
+
+"Hai! Hai!" continued Babalatchi, unmoved and dreamy. "Many
+years ago. Then all this"--and looking up suddenly at Lingard's
+beard, he flourished his fingers below his own beardless
+chin--"then all this was like gold in sunlight, now it is like
+the foam of an angry sea."
+
+"Maybe, maybe," said Lingard, patiently, paying the involuntary
+tribute of a faint sigh to the memories of the past evoked by
+Babalatchi's words.
+
+He had been living with Malays so long and so close that the
+extreme deliberation and deviousness of their mental proceedings
+had ceased to irritate him much. To-night, perhaps, he was less
+prone to impatience than ever. He was disposed, if not to listen
+to Babalatchi, then to let him talk. It was evident to him that
+the man had something to say, and he hoped that from the talk a
+ray of light would shoot through the thick blackness of
+inexplicable treachery, to show him clearly--if only for a
+second--the man upon whom he would have to execute the verdict of
+justice. Justice only! Nothing was further from his thoughts
+than such an useless thing as revenge. Justice only. It was his
+duty that justice should be done--and by his own hand. He did
+not like to think how. To him, as to Babalatchi, it seemed that
+the night would be long enough for the work he had to do. But he
+did not define to himself the nature of the work, and he sat very
+still, and willingly dilatory, under the fearsome oppression of
+his call. What was the good to think about it? It was
+inevitable, and its time was near. Yet he could not command his
+memories that came crowding round him in that evil-smelling hut,
+while Babalatchi talked on in a flowing monotone, nothing of him
+moving but the lips, in the artificially inanimated face.
+Lingard, like an anchored ship that had broken her sheer, darted
+about here and there on the rapid tide of his recollections. The
+subdued sound of soft words rang around him, but his thoughts
+were lost, now in the contemplation of the past sweetness and
+strife of Carimata days, now in the uneasy wonder at the failure
+of his judgment; at the fatal blindness of accident that had
+caused him, many years ago, to rescue a half-starved runaway from
+a Dutch ship in Samarang roads. How he had liked the man: his
+assurance, his push, his desire to get on, his conceited
+good-humour and his selfish eloquence. He had liked his very
+faults--those faults that had so many, to him, sympathetic sides.
+
+And he had always dealt fairly by him from the very beginning;
+and he would deal fairly by him now--to the very end. This last
+thought darkened Lingard's features with a responsive and
+menacing frown. The doer of justice sat with compressed lips and
+a heavy heart, while in the calm darkness outside the silent
+world seemed to be waiting breathlessly for that justice he held
+in his hand--in his strong hand:--ready to strike--reluctant to move.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+Babalatchi ceased speaking. Lingard shifted his feet a little,
+uncrossed his arms, and shook his head slowly. The narrative of
+the events in Sambir, related from the point of view of the
+astute statesman, the sense of which had been caught here and
+there by his inattentive ears, had been yet like a thread to
+guide him out of the sombre labyrinth of his thoughts; and now he
+had come to the end of it, out of the tangled past into the
+pressing necessities of the present. With the palms of his hands
+on his knees, his elbows squared out, he looked down on
+Babalatchi who sat in a stiff attitude, inexpressive and mute as
+a talking doll the mechanism of which had at length run down.
+
+"You people did all this," said Lingard at last, "and you will be
+sorry for it before the dry wind begins to blow again. Abdulla's
+voice will bring the Dutch rule here."
+
+Babalatchi waved his hand towards the dark doorway.
+
+"There are forests there. Lakamba rules the land now. Tell me,
+Tuan, do you think the big trees know the name of the ruler? No.
+They are born, they grow, they live and they die--yet know not,
+feel not. It is their land."
+
+"Even a big tree may be killed by a small axe," said Lingard,
+drily. "And, remember, my one-eyed friend, that axes are made by
+white hands. You will soon find that out, since you have hoisted
+the flag of the Dutch."
+
+"Ay--wa!" said Babalatchi, slowly. "It is written that the earth
+belongs to those who have fair skins and hard but foolish hearts.
+The farther away is the master, the easier it is for the slave,
+Tuan! You were too near. Your voice rang in our ears always.
+Now it is not going to be so. The great Rajah in Batavia is
+strong, but he may be deceived. He must speak very loud to be
+heard here. But if we have need to shout, then he must hear the
+many voices that call for protection. He is but a white man."
+
+"If I ever spoke to Patalolo, like an elder brother, it was for
+your good--for the good of all," said Lingard with great
+earnestness.
+
+"This is a white man's talk," exclaimed Babalatchi, with bitter
+exultation. "I know you. That is how you all talk while you
+load your guns and sharpen your swords; and when you are ready,
+then to those who are weak you say: 'Obey me and be happy, or
+die! You are strange, you white men. You think it is only your
+wisdom and your virtue and your happiness that are true. You are
+stronger than the wild beasts, but not so wise. A black tiger
+knows when he is not hungry--you do not. He knows the difference
+between himself and those that can speak; you do not understand
+the difference between yourselves and us--who are men. You are
+wise and great--and you shall always be fools."
+
+He threw up both his hands, stirring the sleeping cloud of smoke
+that hung above his head, and brought the open palms on the
+flimsy floor on each side of his outstretched legs. The whole
+hut shook. Lingard looked at the excited statesman curiously.
+
+"Apa! Apa! What's the matter?" he murmured, soothingly. "Whom
+did I kill here? Where are my guns? What have I done? What have
+I eaten up?"
+
+Babalatchi calmed down, and spoke with studied courtesy.
+
+"You, Tuan, are of the sea, and more like what we are. Therefore
+I speak to you all the words that are in my heart. . . . Only
+once has the sea been stronger than the Rajah of the sea."
+
+"You know it; do you?" said Lingard, with pained sharpness.
+
+"Hai! We have heard about your ship--and some rejoiced. Not I.
+Amongst the whites, who are devils, you are a man."
+
+"Trima kassi! I give you thanks," said Lingard, gravely.
+
+Babalatchi looked down with a bashful smile, but his face became
+saddened directly, and when he spoke again it was in a mournful
+tone.
+
+"Had you come a day sooner, Tuan, you would have seen an enemy
+die. You would have seen him die poor, blind, unhappy--with no
+son to dig his grave and speak of his wisdom and courage. Yes;
+you would have seen the man that fought you in Carimata many
+years ago, die alone--but for one friend. A great sight to you."
+
+"Not to me," answered Lingard. "I did not even remember him till
+you spoke his name just now. You do not understand us. We
+fight, we vanquish--and we forget."
+
+"True, true," said Babalatchi, with polite irony; "you whites are
+so great that you disdain to remember your enemies. No! No!" he
+went on, in the same tone, "you have so much mercy for us, that
+there is no room for any remembrance. Oh, you are great and
+good! But it is in my mind that amongst yourselves you know how
+to remember. Is it not so, Tuan?"
+
+Lingard said nothing. His shoulders moved imperceptibly. He
+laid his gun across his knees and stared at the flint lock
+absently.
+
+"Yes," went on Babalatchi, falling again into a mournful mood,
+"yes, he died in darkness. I sat by his side and held his hand,
+but he could not see the face of him who watched the faint breath
+on his lips. She, whom he had cursed because of the white man,
+was there too, and wept with covered face. The white man walked
+about the courtyard making many noises. Now and then he would
+come to the doorway and glare at us who mourned. He stared with
+wicked eyes, and then I was glad that he who was dying was blind.
+This is true talk. I was glad; for a white man's eyes are not
+good to see when the devil that lives within is looking out
+through them."
+
+"Devil! Hey?" said Lingard, half aloud to himself, as if struck
+with the obviousness of some novel idea. Babalatchi went on:
+
+"At the first hour of the morning he sat up--he so weak--and said
+plainly some words that were not meant for human ears. I held
+his hand tightly, but it was time for the leader of brave men to
+go amongst the Faithful who are happy. They of my household
+brought a white sheet, and I began to dig a grave in the hut in
+which he died. She mourned aloud. The white man came to the
+doorway and shouted. He was angry. Angry with her because she
+beat her breast, and tore her hair, and mourned with shrill cries
+as a woman should. Do you understand what I say, Tuan? That
+white man came inside the hut with great fury, and took her by
+the shoulder, and dragged her out. Yes, Tuan. I saw Omar dead,
+and I saw her at the feet of that white dog who has deceived me.
+I saw his face grey, like the cold mist of the morning; I saw his
+pale eyes looking down at Omar's daughter beating her head on the
+ground at his feet. At the feet of him who is Abdulla's slave.
+Yes, he lives by Abdulla's will. That is why I held my hand
+while I saw all this. I held my hand because we are now under
+the flag of the Orang Blanda, and Abdulla can speak into the ears
+of the great. We must not have any trouble with white men.
+Abdulla has spoken--and I must obey."
+
+"That's it, is it?" growled Lingard in his moustache. Then in
+Malay, "It seems that you are angry, O Babalatchi!"
+
+"No; I am not angry, Tuan," answered Babalatchi, descending from
+the insecure heights of his indignation into the insincere depths
+of safe humility. "I am not angry. What am I to be angry? I am
+only an Orang Laut, and I have fled before your people many
+times. Servant of this one--protected of another; I have given
+my counsel here and there for a handful of rice. What am I, to
+be angry with a white man? What is anger without the power to
+strike? But you whites have taken all: the land, the sea, and the
+power to strike! And there is nothing left for us in the islands
+but your white men's justice; your great justice that knows not
+anger."
+
+He got up and stood for a moment in the doorway, sniffing the hot
+air of the courtyard, then turned back and leaned against the
+stay of the ridge pole, facing Lingard who kept his seat on the
+chest. The torch, consumed nearly to the end, burned noisily.
+Small explosions took place in the heart of the flame, driving
+through its smoky blaze strings of hard, round puffs of white
+smoke, no bigger than peas, which rolled out of doors in the
+faint draught that came from invisible cracks of the bamboo
+walls. The pungent taint of unclean things below and about the
+hut grew heavier, weighing down Lingard's resolution and his
+thoughts in an irresistible numbness of the brain. He thought
+drowsily of himself and of that man who wanted to see him--who
+waited to see him. Who waited! Night and day. Waited. . . . A
+spiteful but vaporous idea floated through his brain that such
+waiting could not be very pleasant to the fellow. Well, let him
+wait. He would see him soon enough. And for how long? Five
+seconds--five minutes--say nothing--say something. What? No!
+Just give him time to take one good look, and then . . .
+
+Suddenly Babalatchi began to speak in a soft voice. Lingard
+blinked, cleared his throat--sat up straight.
+
+"You know all now, Tuan. Lakamba dwells in the stockaded house
+of Patalolo; Abdulla has begun to build godowns of plank and
+stone; and now that Omar is dead, I myself shall depart from this
+place and live with Lakamba and speak in his ear. I have served
+many. The best of them all sleeps in the ground in a white
+sheet, with nothing to mark his grave but the ashes of the hut in
+which he died. Yes, Tuan! the white man destroyed it himself.
+With a blazing brand in his hand he strode around, shouting to me
+to come out--shouting to me, who was throwing earth on the body
+of a great leader. Yes; swearing to me by the name of your God
+and ours that he would burn me and her in there if we did not
+make haste. . . . Hai! The white men are very masterful and
+wise. I dragged her out quickly!"
+
+"Oh, damn it!" exclaimed Lingard--then went on in Malay, speaking
+earnestly. "Listen. That man is not like other white men. You
+know he is not. He is not a man at all. He is . . . I don't
+know."
+
+Babalatchi lifted his hand deprecatingly. His eye twinkled, and
+his red-stained big lips, parted by an expressionless grin,
+uncovered a stumpy row of black teeth filed evenly to the gums.
+
+"Hai! Hai! Not like you. Not like you," he said, increasing
+the softness of his tones as he neared the object uppermost in
+his mind during that much-desired interview. "Not like you,
+Tuan, who are like ourselves, only wiser and stronger. Yet he,
+also, is full of great cunning, and speaks of you without any
+respect, after the manner of white men when they talk of one
+another."
+
+Lingard leaped in his seat as if he had been prodded.
+
+"He speaks! What does he say?" he shouted.
+
+"Nay, Tuan," protested the composed Babalatchi; "what matters his
+talk if he is not a man? I am nothing before you--why should I
+repeat words of one white man about another? He did boast to
+Abdulla of having learned much from your wisdom in years past.
+Other words I have forgotten. Indeed, Tuan, I have . . ."
+
+Lingard cut short Babalatchi's protestations by a contemptuous
+wave of the hand and reseated himself with dignity.
+
+"I shall go," said Babalatchi, "and the white man will remain
+here, alone with the spirit of the dead and with her who has been
+the delight of his heart. He, being white, cannot hear the voice
+of those that died. . . . Tell me, Tuan," he went on, looking at
+Lingard with curiosity--"tell me, Tuan, do you white people ever
+hear the voices of the invisible ones?"
+
+"We do not," answered Lingard, "because those that we cannot see
+do not speak."
+
+"Never speak! And never complain with sounds that are not
+words?" exclaimed Babalatchi, doubtingly. "It may be so--or your
+ears are dull. We Malays hear many sounds near the places where
+men are buried. To-night I heard . . . Yes, even I have heard.
+. . . I do not want to hear any more," he added, nervously.
+"Perhaps I was wrong when I . . . There are things I regret.
+The trouble was heavy in his heart when he died. Sometimes I
+think I was wrong . . . but I do not want to hear the complaint
+of invisible lips. Therefore I go, Tuan. Let the unquiet spirit
+speak to his enemy the white man who knows not fear, or love, or
+mercy--knows nothing but contempt and violence. I have been
+wrong! I have! Hai! Hai!"
+
+He stood for awhile with his elbow in the palm of his left hand,
+the fingers of the other over his lips as if to stifle the
+expression of inconvenient remorse; then, after glancing at the
+torch, burnt out nearly to its end, he moved towards the wall by
+the chest, fumbled about there and suddenly flung open a large
+shutter of attaps woven in a light framework of sticks. Lingard
+swung his legs quickly round the corner of his seat.
+
+"Hallo!" he said, surprised.
+
+The cloud of smoke stirred, and a slow wisp curled out through
+the new opening. The torch flickered, hissed, and went out, the
+glowing end falling on the mat, whence Babalatchi snatched it up
+and tossed it outside through the open square. It described a
+vanishing curve of red light, and lay below, shining feebly in
+the vast darkness. Babalatchi remained with his arm stretched
+out into the empty night.
+
+"There," he said, "you can see the white man's courtyard, Tuan,
+and his house."
+
+ "I can see nothing," answered Lingard, putting his head through
+the shutter-hole. "It's too dark."
+
+"Wait, Tuan," urged Babalatchi. "You have been looking long at
+the burning torch. You will soon see. Mind the gun, Tuan. It
+is loaded."
+
+"There is no flint in it. You could not find a fire-stone for a
+hundred miles round this spot," said Lingard, testily. "Foolish
+thing to load that gun."
+
+"I have a stone. I had it from a man wise and pious that lives
+in Menang Kabau. A very pious man--very good fire. He spoke
+words over that stone that make its sparks good. And the gun is
+good--carries straight and far. Would carry from here to the
+door of the white man's house, I believe, Tuan."
+
+"Tida apa. Never mind your gun," muttered Lingard, peering into
+the formless darkness. "Is that the house--that black thing over
+there?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," answered Babalatchi; "that is his house. He lives there
+by the will of Abdulla, and shall live there till . . . From
+where you stand, Tuan, you can look over the fence and across the
+courtyard straight at the door--at the door from which he comes
+out every morning, looking like a man that had seen Jehannum in
+his sleep."
+
+Lingard drew his head in. Babalatchi touched his shoulder with a
+groping hand.
+
+"Wait a little, Tuan. Sit still. The morning is not far off
+now--a morning without sun after a night without stars. But
+there will be light enough to see the man who said not many days
+ago that he alone has made you less than a child in Sambir."
+
+He felt a slight tremor under his hand, but took it off directly
+and began feeling all over the lid of the chest, behind Lingard's
+back, for the gun.
+
+"What are you at?" said Lingard, impatiently. "You do worry about
+that rotten gun. You had better get a light."
+
+"A light! I tell you, Tuan, that the light of heaven is very
+near," said Babalatchi, who had now obtained possession of the
+object of his solicitude, and grasping it strongly by its long
+barrel, grounded the stock at his feet.
+
+"Perhaps it is near," said Lingard, leaning both his elbows on
+the lower cross-piece of the primitive window and looking out.
+"It is very black outside yet," he remarked carelessly.
+
+Babalatchi fidgeted about.
+
+"It is not good for you to sit where you may be seen," he
+muttered.
+
+"Why not?" asked Lingard.
+
+"The white man sleeps, it is true," explained Babalatchi, softly;
+"yet he may come out early, and he has arms."
+
+"Ah! he has arms?" said Lingard.
+
+"Yes; a short gun that fires many times--like yours here.
+Abdulla had to give it to him."
+
+Lingard heard Babalatchi's words, but made no movement. To the
+old adventurer the idea that fire arms could be dangerous in
+other hands than his own did not occur readily, and certainly not
+in connection with Willems. He was so busy with the thoughts
+about what he considered his own sacred duty, that he could not
+give any consideration to the probable actions of the man of whom
+he thought--as one may think of an executed criminal--with
+wondering indignation tempered by scornful pity. While he sat
+staring into the darkness, that every minute grew thinner before
+his pensive eyes, like a dispersing mist, Willems appeared to him
+as a figure belonging already wholly to the past--a figure that
+could come in no way into his life again. He had made up his
+mind, and the thing was as well as done. In his weary thoughts
+he had closed this fatal, inexplicable, and horrible episode in
+his life. The worst had happened. The coming days would see the
+retribution.
+
+He had removed an enemy once or twice before, out of his path; he
+had paid off some very heavy scores a good many times. Captain
+Tom had been a good friend to many: but it was generally
+understood, from Honolulu round about to Diego Suarez, that
+Captain Tom's enmity was rather more than any man single-handed
+could easily manage. He would not, as he said often, hurt a fly
+as long as the fly left him alone; yet a man does not live for
+years beyond the pale of civilized laws without evolving for
+himself some queer notions of justice. Nobody of those he knew
+had ever cared to point out to him the errors of his conceptions.
+
+It was not worth anybody's while to run counter to Lingard's
+ideas of the fitness of things--that fact was acquired to the
+floating wisdom of the South Seas, of the Eastern Archipelago,
+and was nowhere better understood than in out-of-the-way nooks of
+the world; in those nooks which he filled, unresisted and
+masterful, with the echoes of his noisy presence. There is not
+much use in arguing with a man who boasts of never having
+regretted a single action of his life, whose answer to a mild
+criticism is a good-natured shout--"You know nothing about it. I
+would do it again. Yes, sir!" His associates and his
+acquaintances accepted him, his opinions, his actions like things
+preordained and unchangeable; looked upon his many-sided
+manifestations with passive wonder not unmixed with that
+admiration which is only the rightful due of a successful man.
+But nobody had ever seen him in the mood he was in now. Nobody
+had seen Lingard doubtful and giving way to doubt, unable to make
+up his mind and unwilling to act; Lingard timid and hesitating
+one minute, angry yet inactive the next; Lingard puzzled in a
+word, because confronted with a situation that discomposed him by
+its unprovoked malevolence, by its ghastly injustice, that to his
+rough but unsophisticated palate tasted distinctly of sulphurous
+fumes from the deepest hell.
+
+The smooth darkness filling the shutter-hole grew paler and
+became blotchy with ill-defined shapes, as if a new universe was
+being evolved out of sombre chaos. Then outlines came out,
+defining forms without any details, indicating here a tree, there
+a bush; a black belt of forest far off; the straight lines of a
+house, the ridge of a high roof near by. Inside the hut,
+Babalatchi, who lately had been only a persuasive voice, became a
+human shape leaning its chin imprudently on the muzzle of a gun
+and rolling an uneasy eye over the reappearing world. The day
+came rapidly, dismal and oppressed by the fog of the river and by
+the heavy vapours of the sky--a day without colour and without
+sunshine: incomplete, disappointing, and sad.
+
+Babalatchi twitched gently Lingard's sleeve, and when the old
+seaman had lifted up his head interrogatively, he stretched out
+an arm and a pointing forefinger towards Willems' house, now
+plainly visible to the right and beyond the big tree of the
+courtyard.
+
+"Look, Tuan!" he said. "He lives there. That is the door--his
+door. Through it he will appear soon, with his hair in disorder
+and his mouth full of curses. That is so. He is a white man,
+and never satisfied. It is in my mind he is angry even in his
+sleep. A dangerous man. As Tuan may observe," he went on,
+obsequiously, "his door faces this opening, where you condescend
+to sit, which is concealed from all eyes. Faces it--straight--and
+not far. Observe, Tuan, not at all far."
+
+"Yes, yes; I can see. I shall see him when he wakes."
+
+"No doubt, Tuan. When he wakes. . . . If you remain here he can
+not see you. I shall withdraw quickly and prepare my canoe
+myself. I am only a poor man, and must go to Sambir to greet
+Lakamba when he opens his eyes. I must bow before Abdulla who
+has strength--even more strength than you. Now if you remain
+here, you shall easily behold the man who boasted to Abdulla that
+he had been your friend, even while he prepared to fight those
+who called you protector. Yes, he plotted with Abdulla for that
+cursed flag. Lakamba was blind then, and I was deceived. But
+you, Tuan! Remember, he deceived you more. Of that he boasted
+before all men."
+
+He leaned the gun quietly against the wall close to the window,
+and said softly: "Shall I go now, Tuan? Be careful of the gun.
+I have put the fire-stone in. The fire-stone of the wise man,
+which never fails."
+
+Lingard's eyes were fastened on the distant doorway. Across his
+line of sight, in the grey emptiness of the courtyard, a big
+fruit-pigeon flapped languidly towards the forests with a loud
+booming cry, like the note of a deep gong: a brilliant bird
+looking in the gloom of threatening day as black as a crow. A
+serried flock of white rice birds rose above the trees with a
+faint scream, and hovered, swaying in a disordered mass that
+suddenly scattered in all directions, as if burst asunder by a
+silent explosion. Behind his back Lingard heard a shuffle of
+feet--women leaving the hut. In the other courtyard a voice was
+heard complaining of cold, and coming very feeble, but
+exceedingly distinct, out of the vast silence of the abandoned
+houses and clearings. Babalatchi coughed discreetly. From under
+the house the thumping of wooden pestles husking the rice started
+with unexpected abruptness. The weak but clear voice in the yard
+again urged, "Blow up the embers, O brother!" Another voice
+answered, drawling in modulated, thin sing-song, "Do it yourself,
+O shivering pig!" and the drawl of the last words stopped short,
+as if the man had fallen into a deep hole. Babalatchi coughed
+again a little impatiently, and said in a confidential tone--
+
+"Do you think it is time for me to go, Tuan? Will you take care
+of my gun, Tuan? I am a man that knows how to obey; even obey
+Abdulla, who has deceived me. Nevertheless this gun carries far
+and true--if you would want to know, Tuan. And I have put in a
+double measure of powder, and three slugs. Yes, Tuan.
+Now--perhaps--I go."
+
+When Babalatchi commenced speaking, Lingard turned slowly round
+and gazed upon him with the dull and unwilling look of a sick man
+waking to another day of suffering. As the astute statesman
+proceeded, Lingard's eyebrows came close, his eyes became
+animated, and a big vein stood out on his forehead, accentuating
+a lowering frown. When speaking his last words Babalatchi
+faltered, then stopped, confused, before the steady gaze of the
+old seaman.
+
+Lingard rose. His face cleared, and he looked down at the
+anxious Babalatchi with sudden benevolence.
+
+"So! That's what you were after," he said, laying a heavy hand
+on Babalatchi's yielding shoulder. "You thought I came here to
+murder him. Hey? Speak! You faithful dog of an Arab trader!"
+
+"And what else, Tuan?" shrieked Babalatchi, exasperated into
+sincerity. "What else, Tuan! Remember what he has done; he
+poisoned our ears with his talk about you. You are a man. If
+you did not come to kill, Tuan, then either I am a fool or . . ."
+
+He paused, struck his naked breast with his open palm, and
+finished in a discouraged whisper--"or, Tuan, you are."
+
+Lingard looked down at him with scornful serenity. After his
+long and painful gropings amongst the obscure abominations of
+Willems' conduct, the logical if tortuous evolutions of
+Babalatchi's diplomatic mind were to him welcome as daylight.
+There was something at last he could understand--the clear effect
+of a simple cause. He felt indulgent towards the disappointed
+sage.
+
+"So you are angry with your friend, O one-eyed one!" he said
+slowly, nodding his fierce countenance close to Babalatchi's
+discomfited face. "It seems to me that you must have had much to
+do with what happened in Sambir lately. Hey? You son of a burnt
+father."
+
+"May I perish under your hand, O Rajah of the sea, if my words
+are not true!" said Babalatchi, with reckless excitement. "You
+are here in the midst of your enemies. He the greatest. Abdulla
+would do nothing without him, and I could do nothing without
+Abdulla. Strike me--so that you strike all!"
+
+"Who are you," exclaimed Lingard contemptuously--"who are you to
+dare call yourself my enemy! Dirt! Nothing! Go out first," he
+went on severely. "Lakas! quick. March out!"
+
+He pushed Babalatchi through the doorway and followed him down
+the short ladder into the courtyard. The boatmen squatting over
+the fire turned their slow eyes with apparent difficulty towards
+the two men; then, unconcerned, huddled close together again,
+stretching forlornly their hands over the embers. The women
+stopped in their work and with uplifted pestles flashed quick and
+curious glances from the gloom under the house.
+
+"Is that the way?" asked Lingard with a nod towards the little
+wicket-gate of Willems' enclosure.
+
+"If you seek death, that is surely the way," answered Babalatchi
+in a dispassionate voice, as if he had exhausted all the
+emotions. "He lives there: he who destroyed your friends; who
+hastened Omar's death; who plotted with Abdulla first against
+you, then against me. I have been like a child. O shame! . . .
+But go, Tuan. Go there."
+
+"I go where I like," said Lingard, emphatically, "and you may go
+to the devil; I do not want you any more. The islands of these
+seas shall sink before I, Rajah Laut, serve the will of any of
+your people. Tau? But I tell you this: I do not care what you
+do with him after to-day. And I say that because I am merciful."
+
+"Tida! I do nothing," said Babalatchi, shaking his head with
+bitter apathy. "I am in Abdulla's hand and care not, even as you
+do. No! no!" he added, turning away, "I have learned much wisdom
+this morning. There are no men anywhere. You whites are cruel
+to your friends and merciful to your enemies--which is the work
+of fools."
+
+He went away towards the riverside, and, without once looking
+back, disappeared in the low bank of mist that lay over the water
+and the shore. Lingard followed him with his eyes thoughtfully.
+After awhile he roused himself and called out to his boatmen--
+
+"Hai--ya there! After you have eaten rice, wait for me with your
+paddles in your hands. You hear?"
+
+"Ada, Tuan!" answered Ali through the smoke of the morning fire
+that was spreading itself, low and gentle, over the
+courtyard--"we hear!"
+
+Lingard opened slowly the little wicket-gate, made a few steps
+into the empty enclosure, and stopped. He had felt about his
+head the short breath of a puff of wind that passed him, made
+every leaf of the big tree shiver--and died out in a hardly
+perceptible tremor of branches and twigs. Instinctively he
+glanced upwards with a seaman's impulse. Above him, under the
+grey motionless waste of a stormy sky, drifted low black vapours,
+in stretching bars, in shapeless patches, in sinuous wisps and
+tormented spirals. Over the courtyard and the house floated a
+round, sombre, and lingering cloud, dragging behind a tail of
+tangled and filmy streamers--like the dishevelled hair of a
+mourning woman.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+
+"Beware!"
+
+The tremulous effort and the broken, inadequate tone of the faint
+cry, surprised Lingard more than the unexpected suddenness of the
+warning conveyed, he did not know by whom and to whom. Besides
+himself there was no one in the courtyard as far as he could see.
+
+The cry was not renewed, and his watchful eyes, scanning warily
+the misty solitude of Willems' enclosure, were met everywhere
+only by the stolid impassiveness of inanimate things: the big
+sombre-looking tree, the shut-up, sightless house, the glistening
+bamboo fences, the damp and drooping bushes further off--all
+these things, that condemned to look for ever at the
+incomprehensible afflictions or joys of mankind, assert in their
+aspect of cold unconcern the high dignity of lifeless matter that
+surrounds, incurious and unmoved, the restless mysteries of the
+ever-changing, of the never-ending life.
+
+Lingard, stepping aside, put the trunk of the tree between
+himself and the house, then, moving cautiously round one of the
+projecting buttresses, had to tread short in order to avoid
+scattering a small heap of black embers upon which he came
+unexpectedly on the other side. A thin, wizened, little old
+woman, who, standing behind the tree, had been looking at the
+house, turned towards him with a start, gazed with faded,
+expressionless eyes at the intruder, then made a limping attempt
+to get away. She seemed, however, to realize directly the
+hopelessness or the difficulty of the undertaking, stopped,
+hesitated, tottered back slowly; then, after blinking dully, fell
+suddenly on her knees amongst the white ashes, and, bending over
+the heap of smouldering coals, distended her sunken cheeks in a
+steady effort to blow up the hidden sparks into a useful blaze.
+Lingard looked down on her, but she seemed to have made up her
+mind that there was not enough life left in her lean body for
+anything else than the discharge of the simple domestic duty,
+and, apparently, she begrudged him the least moment of attention.
+
+After waiting for awhile, Lingard asked--
+
+"Why did you call, O daughter?"
+
+"I saw you enter," she croaked feebly, still grovelling with her
+face near the ashes and without looking up, "and I called--the
+cry of warning. It was her order. Her order," she repeated,
+with a moaning sigh.
+
+"And did she hear?" pursued Lingard, with gentle composure.
+
+Her projecting shoulder-blades moved uneasily under the thin
+stuff of the tight body jacket. She scrambled up with difficulty
+to her feet, and hobbled away, muttering peevishly to herself,
+towards a pile of dry brushwood heaped up against the fence.
+
+Lingard, looking idly after her, heard the rattle of loose planks
+that led from the ground to the door of the house. He moved his
+head beyond the shelter of the tree and saw Aissa coming down the
+inclined way into the courtyard. After making a few hurried
+paces towards the tree, she stopped with one foot advanced in an
+appearance of sudden terror, and her eyes glanced wildly right
+and left. Her head was uncovered. A blue cloth wrapped her from
+her head to foot in close slanting folds, with one end thrown
+over her shoulder. A tress of her black hair strayed across her
+bosom. Her bare arms pressed down close to her body, with hands
+open and outstretched fingers; her slightly elevated shoulders
+and the backward inclination of her torso gave her the aspect of
+one defiant yet shrinking from a coming blow. She had closed the
+door of the house behind her; and as she stood solitary in the
+unnatural and threatening twilight of the murky day, with
+everything unchanged around her, she appeared to Lingard as if
+she had been made there, on the spot, out of the black vapours of
+the sky and of the sinister gleams of feeble sunshine that
+struggled, through the thickening clouds, into the colourless
+desolation of the world.
+
+After a short but attentive glance towards the shut-up house,
+Lingard stepped out from behind the tree and advanced slowly
+towards her. The sudden fixity of her--till then--restless eyes
+and a slight twitch of her hands were the only signs she gave at
+first of having seen him. She made a long stride forward, and
+putting herself right in his path, stretched her arms across; her
+black eyes opened wide, her lips parted as if in an uncertain
+attempt to speak--but no sound came out to break the significant
+silence of their meeting. Lingard stopped and looked at her with
+stern curiosity. After a while he said composedly--
+
+"Let me pass. I came here to talk to a man. Does he hide? Has
+he sent you?"
+
+She made a step nearer, her arms fell by her side, then she put
+them straight out nearly touching Lingard's breast.
+
+"He knows not fear," she said, speaking low, with a forward throw
+of her head, in a voice trembling but distinct. "It is my own
+fear that has sent me here. He sleeps."
+
+"He has slept long enough," said Lingard, in measured tones. "I
+am come--and now is the time of his waking. Go and tell him
+this--or else my own voice will call him up. A voice he knows
+well."
+
+He put her hands down firmly and again made as if to pass by her.
+
+"Do not!" she exclaimed, and fell at his feet as if she had been
+cut down by a scythe. The unexpected suddenness of her movement
+startled Lingard, who stepped back.
+
+"What's this?" he exclaimed in a wondering whisper--then added in
+a tone of sharp command: "Stand up!"
+
+She rose at once and stood looking at him, timorous and fearless;
+yet with a fire of recklessness burning in her eyes that made
+clear her resolve to pursue her purpose even to the death.
+Lingard went on in a severe voice--
+
+"Go out of my path. You are Omar's daughter, and you ought to
+know that when men meet in daylight women must be silent and
+abide their fate."
+
+"Women!" she retorted, with subdued vehemence. "Yes, I am a
+woman! Your eyes see that, O Rajah Laut, but can you see my
+life? I also have heard--O man of many fights--I also have heard
+the voice of fire-arms; I also have felt the rain of young twigs
+and of leaves cut up by bullets fall down about my head; I also
+know how to look in silence at angry faces and at strong hands
+raised high grasping sharp steel. I also saw men fall dead
+around me without a cry of fear and of mourning; and I have
+watched the sleep of weary fugitives, and looked at night shadows
+full of menace and death with eyes that knew nothing but
+watchfulness. And," she went on, with a mournful drop in her
+voice, "I have faced the heartless sea, held on my lap the heads
+of those who died raving from thirst, and from their cold hands
+took the paddle and worked so that those with me did not know
+that one man more was dead. I did all this. What more have you
+done? That was my life. What has been yours?"
+
+The matter and the manner of her speech held Lingard motionless,
+attentive and approving against his will. She ceased speaking,
+and from her staring black eyes with a narrow border of white
+above and below, a double ray of her very soul streamed out in a
+fierce desire to light up the most obscure designs of his heart.
+After a long silence, which served to emphasize the meaning of
+her words, she added in the whisper of bitter regret--
+
+"And I have knelt at your feet! And I am afraid!"
+
+"You," said Lingard deliberately, and returning her look with an
+interested gaze, "you are a woman whose heart, I believe, is
+great enough to fill a man's breast: but still you are a woman,
+and to you, I, Rajah Laut, have nothing to say."
+
+She listened bending her head in a movement of forced attention;
+and his voice sounded to her unexpected, far off, with the
+distant and unearthly ring of voices that we hear in dreams,
+saying faintly things startling, cruel or absurd, to which there
+is no possible reply. To her he had nothing to say! She wrung
+her hands, glanced over the courtyard with that eager and
+distracted look that sees nothing, then looked up at the hopeless
+sky of livid grey and drifting black; at the unquiet mourning of
+the hot and brilliant heaven that had seen the beginning of her
+love, that had heard his entreaties and her answers, that had
+seen his desire and her fear; that had seen her joy, her
+surrender--and his defeat. Lingard moved a little, and this
+slight stir near her precipitated her disordered and shapeless
+thoughts into hurried words.
+
+"Wait!" she exclaimed in a stifled voice, and went on
+disconnectedly and rapidly--"Stay. I have heard. Men often
+spoke by the fires . . . men of my people. And they said of
+you--the first on the sea--they said that to men's cries you were
+deaf in battle, but after . . . No! even while you fought, your
+ears were open to the voice of children and women. They said . .
+. that. Now I, a woman, I . . ."
+
+She broke off suddenly and stood before him with dropped eyelids
+and parted lips, so still now that she seemed to have been
+changed into a breathless, an unhearing, an unseeing figure,
+without knowledge of fear or hope, of anger or despair. In the
+astounding repose that came on her face, nothing moved but the
+delicate nostrils that expanded and collapsed quickly,
+flutteringly, in interrupted beats, like the wings of a snared
+bird.
+
+"I am white," said Lingard, proudly, looking at her with a steady
+gaze where simple curiosity was giving way to a pitying
+annoyance, "and men you have heard, spoke only what is true over
+the evening fires. My ears are open to your prayer. But listen
+to me before you speak. For yourself you need not be afraid. You
+can come even now with me and you shall find refuge in the
+household of Syed Abdulla--who is of your own faith. And this
+also you must know: nothing that you may say will change my
+purpose towards the man who is sleeping--or hiding--in that
+house."
+
+Again she gave him the look that was like a stab, not of anger
+but of desire; of the intense, over-powering desire to see in, to
+see through, to understand everything: every thought, emotion,
+purpose; every impulse, every hesitation inside that man; inside
+that white-clad foreign being who looked at her, who spoke to
+her, who breathed before her like any other man, but bigger,
+red-faced, white-haired and mysterious. It was the future
+clothed in flesh; the to-morrow; the day after; all the days, all
+the years of her life standing there before her alive and secret,
+with all their good or evil shut up within the breast of that
+man; of that man who could be persuaded, cajoled, entreated,
+perhaps touched, worried; frightened--who knows?--if only first
+he could be understood! She had seen a long time ago whither
+events were tending. She had noted the contemptuous yet menacing
+coldness of Abdulla; she had heard--alarmed yet
+unbelieving--Babalatchi's gloomy hints, covert allusions and
+veiled suggestions to abandon the useless white man whose fate
+would be the price of the peace secured by the wise and good who
+had no need of him any more. And he--himself! She clung to him.
+There was nobody else. Nothing else. She would try to cling to
+him always--all the life! And yet he was far from her. Further
+every day. Every day he seemed more distant, and she followed
+him patiently, hopefully, blindly, but steadily, through all the
+devious wanderings of his mind. She followed as well as she
+could. Yet at times--very often lately--she had felt lost like
+one strayed in the thickets of tangled undergrowth of a great
+forest. To her the ex-clerk of old Hudig appeared as remote, as
+brilliant, as terrible, as necessary, as the sun that gives life
+to these lands: the sun of unclouded skies that dazzles and
+withers; the sun beneficent and wicked--the giver of light,
+perfume, and pestilence. She had watched him--watched him close;
+fascinated by love, fascinated by danger. He was alone now--but
+for her; and she saw--she thought she saw--that he was like a man
+afraid of something. Was it possible? He afraid? Of what? Was
+it of that old white man who was coming--who had come? Possibly.
+She had heard of that man ever since she could remember. The
+bravest were afraid of him! And now what was in the mind of this
+old, old man who looked so strong? What was he going to do with
+the light of her life? Put it out? Take it away? Take it away
+for ever!--for ever!--and leave her in darkness:--not in the
+stirring, whispering, expectant night in which the hushed world
+awaits the return of sunshine; but in the night without end, the
+night of the grave, where nothing breathes, nothing moves,
+nothing thinks--the last darkness of cold and silence without
+hope of another sunrise.
+
+She cried--"Your purpose! You know nothing. I must . . ."
+
+He interrupted--unreasonably excited, as if she had, by her look,
+inoculated him with some of her own distress.
+
+"I know enough."
+
+She approached, and stood facing him at arm's length, with both
+her hands on his shoulders; and he, surprised by that audacity,
+closed and opened his eyes two or three times, aware of some
+emotion arising within him, from her words, her tone, her
+contact; an emotion unknown, singular, penetrating and sad--at
+the close sight of that strange woman, of that being savage and
+tender, strong and delicate, fearful and resolute, that had got
+entangled so fatally between their two lives--his own and that
+other white man's, the abominable scoundrel.
+
+"How can you know?" she went on, in a persuasive tone that seemed
+to flow out of her very heart--"how can you know? I live with
+him all the days. All the nights. I look at him; I see his
+every breath, every glance of his eye, every movement of his
+lips. I see nothing else! What else is there? And even I do
+not understand. I do not understand him!--Him!--My life! Him
+who to me is so great that his presence hides the earth and the
+water from my sight!"
+
+Lingard stood straight, with his hands deep in the pockets of his
+jacket. His eyes winked quickly, because she spoke very close to
+his face. She disturbed him and he had a sense of the efforts he
+was making to get hold of her meaning, while all the time he
+could not help telling himself that all this was of no use.
+
+She added after a pause--"There has been a time when I could
+understand him. When I knew what was in his mind better than he
+knew it himself. When I felt him. When I held him. . . . And
+now he has escaped."
+
+"Escaped? What? Gone away!" shouted Lingard.
+
+"Escaped from me," she said; "left me alone. Alone. And I am
+ever near him. Yet alone."
+
+Her hands slipped slowly off Lingard's shoulders and her arms
+fell by her side, listless, discouraged, as if to her--to her,
+the savage, violent, and ignorant creature--had been revealed
+clearly in that moment the tremendous fact of our isolation, of
+the loneliness impenetrable and transparent, elusive and
+everlasting; of the indestructible loneliness that surrounds,
+envelopes, clothes every human soul from the cradle to the grave,
+and, perhaps, beyond.
+
+"Aye! Very well! I understand. His face is turned away from
+you," said Lingard. "Now, what do you want?"
+
+"I want . . . I have looked--for help . . . everywhere . . .
+against men. . . . All men . . . I do not know. First they
+came, the invisible whites, and dealt death from afar . . . then
+he came. He came to me who was alone and sad. He came; angry
+with his brothers; great amongst his own people; angry with those
+I have not seen: with the people where men have no mercy and
+women have no shame. He was of them, and great amongst them.
+For he was great?"
+
+Lingard shook his head slightly. She frowned at him, and went on
+in disordered haste--
+
+"Listen. I saw him. I have lived by the side of brave men . . .
+of chiefs. When he came I was the daughter of a beggar--of a
+blind man without strength and hope. He spoke to me as if I had
+been brighter than the sunshine--more delightful than the cool
+water of the brook by which we met--more . . ." Her anxious eyes
+saw some shade of expression pass on her listener's face that
+made her hold her breath for a second, and then explode into
+pained fury so violent that it drove Lingard back a pace, like an
+unexpected blast of wind. He lifted both his hands,
+incongruously paternal in his venerable aspect, bewildered and
+soothing, while she stretched her neck forward and shouted at
+him.
+
+"I tell you I was all that to him. I know it! I saw it! . . .
+There are times when even you white men speak the truth. I saw
+his eyes. I felt his eyes, I tell you! I saw him tremble when I
+came near--when I spoke--when I touched him. Look at me! You
+have been young. Look at me. Look, Rajah Laut!"
+
+She stared at Lingard with provoking fixity, then, turning her
+head quickly, she sent over her shoulder a glance, full of humble
+fear, at the house that stood high behind her back--dark, closed,
+rickety and silent on its crooked posts.
+
+Lingard's eyes followed her look, and remained gazing expectantly
+at the house. After a minute or so he muttered, glancing at her
+suspiciously--
+
+"If he has not heard your voice now, then he must be far away--or
+dead."
+
+"He is there," she whispered, a little calmed but still
+anxious--"he is there. For three days he waited. Waited for you
+night and day. And I waited with him. I waited, watching his
+face, his eyes, his lips; listening to his words.--To the words I
+could not understand.--To the words he spoke in daylight; to the
+words he spoke at night in his short sleep. I listened. He
+spoke to himself walking up and down here--by the river; by the
+bushes. And I followed. I wanted to know--and I could not! He
+was tormented by things that made him speak in the words of his
+own people. Speak to himself--not to me. Not to me! What was
+he saying? What was he going to do? Was he afraid of you?--Of
+death? What was in his heart? . . . Fear? . . . Or anger? . .
+. what desire? . . . what sadness? He spoke; spoke; many words.
+All the time! And I could not know! I wanted to speak to him.
+He was deaf to me. I followed him everywhere, watching for some
+word I could understand; but his mind was in the land of his
+people--away from me. When I touched him he was angry--so!"
+
+She imitated the movement of some one shaking off roughly an
+importunate hand, and looked at Lingard with tearful and unsteady
+eyes.
+
+After a short interval of laboured panting, as if she had been
+out of breath with running or fighting, she looked down and went
+on--
+
+"Day after day, night after night, I lived watching him--seeing
+nothing. And my heart was heavy--heavy with the presence of
+death that dwelt amongst us. I could not believe. I thought he
+was afraid. Afraid of you! Then I, myself, knew fear. . . .
+Tell me, Rajah Laut, do you know the fear without voice--the fear
+of silence--the fear that comes when there is no one near--when
+there is no battle, no cries, no angry faces or armed hands
+anywhere? . . . The fear from which there is no escape!"
+
+She paused, fastened her eyes again on the puzzled Lingard, and
+hurried on in a tone of despair--
+
+"And I knew then he would not fight you! Before--many days
+ago--I went away twice to make him obey my desire; to make him
+strike at his own people so that he could be mine--mine! O
+calamity! His hand was false as your white hearts. It struck
+forward, pushed by my desire--by his desire of me. . . . It
+struck that strong hand, and--O shame!--it killed nobody! Its
+fierce and lying blow woke up hate without any fear. Round me
+all was lies. His strength was a lie. My own people lied to me
+and to him. And to meet you--you, the great!--he had no one but
+me? But me with my rage, my pain, my weakness. Only me! And to
+me he would not even speak. The fool!"
+
+She came up close to Lingard, with the wild and stealthy aspect
+of a lunatic longing to whisper out an insane secret--one of
+those misshapen, heart-rending, and ludicrous secrets; one of
+those thoughts that, like monsters--cruel, fantastic, and
+mournful, wander about terrible and unceasing in the night of
+madness. Lingard looked at her, astounded but unflinching. She
+spoke in his face, very low.
+
+"He is all! Everything. He is my breath, my light, my heart. .
+. . Go away. . . . Forget him. . . . He has no courage and no
+wisdom any more . . . and I have lost my power. . . . Go away and
+forget. There are other enemies. . . . Leave him to me. He had
+been a man once. . . . You are too great. Nobody can withstand
+you. . . . I tried. . . . I know now. . . . I cry for mercy.
+Leave him to me and go away."
+
+The fragments of her supplicating sentences were as if tossed on
+the crest of her sobs. Lingard, outwardly impassive, with his
+eyes fixed on the house, experienced that feeling of
+condemnation, deep-seated, persuasive, and masterful; that
+illogical impulse of disapproval which is half disgust, half
+vague fear, and that wakes up in our hearts in the presence of
+anything new or unusual, of anything that is not run into the
+mould of our own conscience; the accursed feeling made up of
+disdain, of anger, and of the sense of superior virtue that
+leaves us deaf, blind, contemptuous and stupid before anything
+which is not like ourselves.
+
+He answered, not looking at her at first, but speaking towards
+the house that fascinated him--
+"_I_ go away! He wanted me to come--he himself did! . . . YOU
+must go away. You do not know what you are asking for. Listen.
+Go to your own people. Leave him. He is . . ."
+
+He paused, looked down at her with his steady eyes; hesitated, as
+if seeking an adequate expression; then snapped his fingers, and
+said--
+
+"Finish."
+
+She stepped back, her eyes on the ground, and pressed her temples
+with both her hands, which she raised to her head in a slow and
+ample movement full of unconscious tragedy. The tone of her
+words was gentle and vibrating, like a loud meditation. She
+said--
+
+"Tell the brook not to run to the river; tell the river not to
+run to the sea. Speak loud. Speak angrily. Maybe they will
+obey you. But it is in my mind that the brook will not care.
+The brook that springs out of the hillside and runs to the great
+river. He would not care for your words: he that cares not for
+the very mountain that gave him life; he that tears the earth
+from which he springs. Tears it, eats it, destroys it--to hurry
+faster to the river--to the river in which he is lost for ever. .
+. . O Rajah Laut! I do not care."
+
+She drew close again to Lingard, approaching slowly, reluctantly,
+as if pushed by an invisible hand, and added in words that seemed
+to be torn out of her--
+
+"I cared not for my own father. For him that died. I would have
+rather . . . You do not know what I have done . . . I . . ."
+
+"You shall have his life," said Lingard, hastily.
+
+They stood together, crossing their glances; she suddenly
+appeased, and Lingard thoughtful and uneasy under a vague sense
+of defeat. And yet there was no defeat. He never intended to
+kill the fellow--not after the first moment of anger, a long time
+ago. The days of bitter wonder had killed anger; had left only a
+bitter indignation and a bitter wish for complete justice. He
+felt discontented and surprised. Unexpectedly he had come upon a
+human being--a woman at that--who had made him disclose his will
+before its time. She should have his life. But she must be
+told, she must know, that for such men as Willems there was no
+favour and no grace.
+
+"Understand," he said slowly, "that I leave him his life not in
+mercy but in punishment."
+
+She started, watched every word on his lips, and after he
+finished speaking she remained still and mute in astonished
+immobility. A single big drop of rain, a drop enormous, pellucid
+and heavy--like a super-human tear coming straight and rapid from
+above, tearing its way through the sombre sky--struck loudly the
+dry ground between them in a starred splash. She wrung her hands
+in the bewilderment of the new and incomprehensible fear. The
+anguish of her whisper was more piercing than the shrillest cry.
+
+"What punishment! Will you take him away then? Away from me?
+Listen to what I have done. . . . It is I who . . ."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Lingard, who had been looking at the house.
+
+"Don't you believe her, Captain Lingard," shouted Willems from
+the doorway, where he appeared with swollen eyelids and bared
+breast. He stood for a while, his hands grasping the lintels on
+each side of the door, and writhed about, glaring wildly, as if
+he had been crucified there. Then he made a sudden rush head
+foremost down the plankway that responded with hollow, short
+noises to every footstep.
+
+She heard him. A slight thrill passed on her face and the words
+that were on her lips fell back unspoken into her benighted
+heart; fell back amongst the mud, the stones--and the flowers,
+that are at the bottom of every heart.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+
+When he felt the solid ground of the courtyard under his feet,
+Willems pulled himself up in his headlong rush and moved forward
+with a moderate gait. He paced stiffly, looking with extreme
+exactitude at Lingard's face; looking neither to the right nor to
+the left but at the face only, as if there was nothing in the
+world but those features familiar and dreaded; that white-haired,
+rough and severe head upon which he gazed in a fixed effort of
+his eyes, like a man trying to read small print at the full range
+of human vision. As soon as Willems' feet had left the planks,
+the silence which had been lifted up by the jerky rattle of his
+footsteps fell down again upon the courtyard; the silence of the
+cloudy sky and of the windless air, the sullen silence of the
+earth oppressed by the aspect of coming turmoil, the silence of
+the world collecting its faculties to withstand the storm.
+Through this silence Willems pushed his way, and stopped about
+six feet from Lingard. He stopped simply because he could go no
+further. He had started from the door with the reckless purpose
+of clapping the old fellow on the shoulder. He had no idea that
+the man would turn out to be so tall, so big and so
+unapproachable. It seemed to him that he had never, never in his
+life, seen Lingard.
+
+He tried to say--
+
+"Do not believe . . ."
+
+A fit of coughing checked his sentence in a faint splutter.
+Directly afterwards he swallowed--as it were--a couple of
+pebbles, throwing his chin up in the act; and Lingard, who looked
+at him narrowly, saw a bone, sharp and triangular like the head
+of a snake, dart up and down twice under the skin of his throat.
+Then that, too, did not move. Nothing moved.
+
+"Well," said Lingard, and with that word he came unexpectedly to
+the end of his speech. His hand in his pocket closed firmly
+round the butt of his revolver bulging his jacket on the hip, and
+he thought how soon and how quickly he could terminate his
+quarrel with that man who had been so anxious to deliver himself
+into his hands--and how inadequate would be that ending! He
+could not bear the idea of that man escaping from him by going
+out of life; escaping from fear, from doubt, from remorse into
+the peaceful certitude of death. He held him now. And he was
+not going to let him go--to let him disappear for ever in the
+faint blue smoke of a pistol shot. His anger grew within him.
+He felt a touch as of a burning hand on his heart. Not on the
+flesh of his breast, but a touch on his heart itself, on the
+palpitating and untiring particle of matter that responds to
+every emotion of the soul; that leaps with joy, with terror, or
+with anger.
+
+He drew a long breath. He could see before him the bare chest of
+the man expanding and collapsing under the wide-open jacket. He
+glanced aside, and saw the bosom of the woman near him rise and
+fall in quick respirations that moved slightly up and down her
+hand, which was pressed to her breast with all the fingers spread
+out and a little curved, as if grasping something too big for its
+span. And nearly a minute passed. One of those minutes when the
+voice is silenced, while the thoughts flutter in the head, like
+captive birds inside a cage, in rushes desperate, exhausting and
+vain.
+
+During that minute of silence Lingard's anger kept rising,
+immense and towering, such as a crested wave running over the
+troubled shallows of the sands. Its roar filled his cars; a roar
+so powerful and distracting that, it seemed to him, his head must
+burst directly with the expanding volume of that sound. He
+looked at that man. That infamous figure upright on its feet,
+still, rigid, with stony eyes, as if its rotten soul had departed
+that moment and the carcass hadn't had the time yet to topple
+over. For the fraction of a second he had the illusion and the
+fear of the scoundrel having died there before the enraged glance
+of his eyes. Willems' eyelids fluttered, and the unconscious and
+passing tremor in that stiffly erect body exasperated Lingard
+like a fresh outrage. The fellow dared to stir! Dared to wink,
+to breathe, to exist; here, right before his eyes! His grip on
+the revolver relaxed gradually. As the transport of his rage
+increased, so also his contempt for the instruments that pierce
+or stab, that interpose themselves between the hand and the
+object of hate. He wanted another kind of satisfaction. Naked
+hands, by heaven! No firearms. Hands that could take him by the
+throat, beat down his defence, batter his face into shapeless
+flesh; hands that could feel all the desperation of his
+resistance and overpower it in the violent delight of a contact
+lingering and furious, intimate and brutal.
+
+He let go the revolver altogether, stood hesitating, then
+throwing his hands out, strode forward--and everything passed
+from his sight. He could not see the man, the woman, the earth,
+the sky--saw nothing, as if in that one stride he had left the
+visible world behind to step into a black and deserted space. He
+heard screams round him in that obscurity, screams like the
+melancholy and pitiful cries of sea-birds that dwell on the
+lonely reefs of great oceans. Then suddenly a face appeared
+within a few inches of his own. His face. He felt something in
+his left hand. His throat . . . Ah! the thing like a snake's
+head that darts up and down . . . He squeezed hard. He was back
+in the world. He could see the quick beating of eyelids over a
+pair of eyes that were all whites, the grin of a drawn-up lip, a
+row of teeth gleaming through the drooping hair of a moustache .
+. . Strong white teeth. Knock them down his lying throat . . .
+He drew back his right hand, the fist up to the shoulder,
+knuckles out. From under his feet rose the screams of sea-birds.
+Thousands of them. Something held his legs . . . What the devil
+. . . He delivered his blow straight from the shoulder, felt the
+jar right up his arm, and realized suddenly that he was striking
+something passive and unresisting. His heart sank within him
+with disappointment, with rage, with mortification. He pushed
+with his left arm, opening the hand with haste, as if he had just
+perceived that he got hold by accident of something repulsive--
+and he watched with stupefied eyes Willems tottering backwards in
+groping strides, the white sleeve of his jacket across his face.
+He watched his distance from that man increase, while he remained
+motionless, without being able to account to himself for the fact
+that so much empty space had come in between them. It should
+have been the other way. They ought to have been very close, and
+. . . Ah! He wouldn't fight, he wouldn't resist, he wouldn't
+defend himself! A cur! Evidently a cur! . . . He was amazed and
+aggrieved--profoundly--bitterly--with the immense and blank
+desolation of a small child robbed of a toy. He shouted--
+unbelieving:
+
+"Will you be a cheat to the end?"
+
+He waited for some answer. He waited anxiously with an
+impatience that seemed to lift him off his feet. He waited for
+some word, some sign; for some threatening stir. Nothing! Only
+two unwinking eyes glittered intently at him above the white
+sleeve. He saw the raised arm detach itself from the face and
+sink along the body. A white clad arm, with a big stain on the
+white sleeve. A red stain. There was a cut on the cheek. It
+bled. The nose bled too. The blood ran down, made one moustache
+look like a dark rag stuck over the lip, and went on in a wet
+streak down the clipped beard on one side of the chin. A drop of
+blood hung on the end of some hairs that were glued together; it
+hung for a while and took a leap down on the ground. Many more
+followed, leaping one after another in close file. One alighted
+on the breast and glided down instantly with devious vivacity,
+like a small insect running away; it left a narrow dark track on
+the white skin. He looked at it, looked at the tiny and active
+drops, looked at what he had done, with obscure satisfaction,
+with anger, with regret. This wasn't much like an act of
+justice. He had a desire to go up nearer to the man, to hear him
+speak, to hear him say something atrocious and wicked that would
+justify the violence of the blow. He made an attempt to move,
+and became aware of a close embrace round both his legs, just
+above the ankles. Instinctively, he kicked out with his foot,
+broke through the close bond and felt at once the clasp
+transferred to his other leg; the clasp warm, desperate and soft,
+of human arms. He looked down bewildered. He saw the body of
+the woman stretched at length, flattened on the ground like a
+dark blue rag. She trailed face downwards, clinging to his leg
+with both arms in a tenacious hug. He saw the top of her head,
+the long black hair streaming over his foot, all over the beaten
+earth, around his boot. He couldn't see his foot for it. He
+heard the short and repeated moaning of her breath. He imagined
+the invisible face close to his heel. With one kick into that
+face he could free himself. He dared not stir, and shouted
+down--
+
+"Let go! Let go! Let go!"
+
+The only result of his shouting was a tightening of the pressure
+of her arms. With a tremendous effort he tried to bring his
+right foot up to his left, and succeeded partly. He heard
+distinctly the rub of her body on the ground as he jerked her
+along. He tried to disengage himself by drawing up his foot. He
+stamped. He heard a voice saying sharply--
+
+"Steady, Captain Lingard, steady!"
+
+His eyes flew back to Willems at the sound of that voice, and, in
+the quick awakening of sleeping memories, Lingard stood suddenly
+still, appeased by the clear ring of familiar words. Appeased as
+in days of old, when they were trading together, when Willems was
+his trusted and helpful companion in out-of-the-way and dangerous
+places; when that fellow, who could keep his temper so much
+better than he could himself, had spared him many a difficulty,
+had saved him from many an act of hasty violence by the timely
+and good-humoured warning, whispered or shouted, "Steady, Captain
+Lingard, steady." A smart fellow. He had brought him up. The
+smartest fellow in the islands. If he had only stayed with him,
+then all this . . . He called out to Willems--
+
+"Tell her to let me go or . . ."
+
+He heard Willems shouting something, waited for awhile, then
+glanced vaguely down and saw the woman still stretched out
+perfectly mute and unstirring, with her head at his feet. He
+felt a nervous impatience that, somehow, resembled fear.
+
+"Tell her to let go, to go away, Willems, I tell you. I've had
+enough of this," he cried.
+
+"All right, Captain Lingard," answered the calm voice of Willems,
+"she has let go. Take your foot off her hair; she can't get up."
+
+Lingard leaped aside, clean away, and spun round quickly. He saw
+her sit up and cover her face with both hands, then he turned
+slowly on his heel and looked at the man. Willems held himself
+very straight, but was unsteady on his feet, and moved about
+nearly on the same spot, like a tipsy man attempting to preserve
+his balance. After gazing at him for a while, Lingard called,
+rancorous and irritable--
+
+"What have you got to say for yourself?"
+
+Willems began to walk towards him. He walked slowly, reeling a
+little before he took each step, and Lingard saw him put his hand
+to his face, then look at it holding it up to his eyes, as if he
+had there, concealed in the hollow of the palm, some small object
+which he wanted to examine secretly. Suddenly he drew it, with a
+brusque movement, down the front of his jacket and left a long
+smudge.
+
+"That's a fine thing to do," said Willems.
+
+He stood in front of Lingard, one of his eyes sunk deep in the
+increasing swelling of his cheek, still repeating mechanically
+the movement of feeling his damaged face; and every time he did
+this he pressed the palm to some clean spot on his jacket,
+covering the white cotton with bloody imprints as of some
+deformed and monstrous hand. Lingard said nothing, looking on.
+At last Willems left off staunching the blood and stood, his arms
+hanging by his side, with his face stiff and distorted under the
+patches of coagulated blood; and he seemed as though he had been
+set up there for a warning: an incomprehensible figure marked all
+over with some awful and symbolic signs of deadly import.
+Speaking with difficulty, he repeated in a reproachful tone--
+
+"That was a fine thing to do."
+
+"After all," answered Lingard, bitterly, "I had too good an
+opinion of you."
+
+"And I of you. Don't you see that I could have had that fool
+over there killed and the whole thing burnt to the ground, swept
+off the face of the earth. You wouldn't have found as much as a
+heap of ashes had I liked. I could have done all that. And I
+wouldn't."
+
+"You--could--not. You dared not. You scoundrel!" cried Lingard.
+
+"What's the use of calling me names?"
+
+"True," retorted Lingard--"there's no name bad enough for you."
+
+There was a short interval of silence. At the sound of their
+rapidly exchanged words, Aissa had got up from the ground where
+she had been sitting, in a sorrowful and dejected pose, and
+approached the two men. She stood on one side and looked on
+eagerly, in a desperate effort of her brain, with the quick and
+distracted eyes of a person trying for her life to penetrate the
+meaning of sentences uttered in a foreign tongue: the meaning
+portentous and fateful that lurks in the sounds of mysterious
+words; in the sounds surprising, unknown and strange.
+
+Willems let the last speech of Lingard pass by; seemed by a
+slight movement of his hand to help it on its way to join the
+other shadows of the past. Then he said--
+
+"You have struck me; you have insulted me . . ."
+
+"Insulted you!" interrupted Lingard, passionately. "Who--what
+can insult you . . . you . . ."
+
+He choked, advanced a step.
+
+"Steady! steady!" said Willems calmly. "I tell you I sha'n't
+fight. Is it clear enough to you that I sha'n't?
+I--shall--not--lift--a--finger."
+
+As he spoke, slowly punctuating each word with a slight jerk of
+his head, he stared at Lingard, his right eye open and big, the
+left small and nearly closed by the swelling of one half of his
+face, that appeared all drawn out on one side like faces seen in
+a concave glass. And they stood exactly opposite each other: one
+tall, slight and disfigured; the other tall, heavy and severe.
+
+Willems went on--
+
+"If I had wanted to hurt you--if I had wanted to destroy you, it
+was easy. I stood in the doorway long enough to pull a
+trigger--and you know I shoot straight."
+
+"You would have missed," said Lingard, with assurance. "There
+is, under heaven, such a thing as justice."
+
+The sound of that word on his own lips made him pause, confused,
+like an unexpected and unanswerable rebuke. The anger of his
+outraged pride, the anger of his outraged heart, had gone out in
+the blow; and there remained nothing but the sense of some
+immense infamy--of something vague, disgusting and terrible,
+which seemed to surround him on all sides, hover about him with
+shadowy and stealthy movements, like a band of assassins in the
+darkness of vast and unsafe places. Was there, under heaven,
+such a thing as justice? He looked at the man before him with
+such an intensity of prolonged glance that he seemed to see right
+through him, that at last he saw but a floating and unsteady mist
+in human shape. Would it blow away before the first breath of
+the breeze and leave nothing behind?
+
+The sound of Willems' voice made him start violently. Willems was
+saying--
+
+"I have always led a virtuous life; you know I have. You always
+praised me for my steadiness; you know you have. You know also I
+never stole--if that's what you're thinking of. I borrowed. You
+know how much I repaid. It was an error of judgment. But then
+consider my position there. I had been a little unlucky in my
+private affairs, and had debts. Could I let myself go under
+before the eyes of all those men who envied me? But that's all
+over. It was an error of judgment. I've paid for it. An error
+of judgment."
+
+Lingard, astounded into perfect stillness, looked down. He
+looked down at Willems' bare feet. Then, as the other had
+paused, he repeated in a blank tone--
+
+"An error of judgment . . ."
+
+"Yes," drawled out Willems, thoughtfully, and went on with
+increasing animation: "As I said, I have always led a virtuous
+life. More so than Hudig--than you. Yes, than you. I drank a
+little, I played cards a little. Who doesn't? But I had
+principles from a boy. Yes, principles. Business is business,
+and I never was an ass. I never respected fools. They had to
+suffer for their folly when they dealt with me. The evil was in
+them, not in me. But as to principles, it's another matter. I
+kept clear of women. It's forbidden--I had no time--and I
+despised them. Now I hate them!"
+
+He put his tongue out a little; a tongue whose pink and moist end
+ran here and there, like something independently alive, under his
+swollen and blackened lip; he touched with the tips of his
+fingers the cut on his cheek, felt all round it with precaution:
+and the unharmed side of his face appeared for a moment to be
+preoccupied and uneasy about the state of that other side which
+was so very sore and stiff.
+
+He recommenced speaking, and his voice vibrated as though with
+repressed emotion of some kind.
+
+"You ask my wife, when you see her in Macassar, whether I have no
+reason to hate her. She was nobody, and I made her Mrs. Willems.
+A half-caste girl! You ask her how she showed her gratitude to
+me. You ask . . . Never mind that. Well, you came and dumped
+me here like a load of rubbish; dumped me here and left me with
+nothing to do--nothing good to remember--and damn little to hope
+for. You left me here at the mercy of that fool, Almayer, who
+suspected me of something. Of what? Devil only knows. But he
+suspected and hated me from the first; I suppose because you
+befriended me. Oh! I could read him like a book. He isn't very
+deep, your Sambir partner, Captain Lingard, but he knows how to
+be disagreeable. Months passed. I thought I would die of sheer
+weariness, of my thoughts, of my regrets And then . . ."
+
+He made a quick step nearer to Lingard, and as if moved by the
+same thought, by the same instinct, by the impulse of his will,
+Aissa also stepped nearer to them. They stood in a close group,
+and the two men could feel the calm air between their faces
+stirred by the light breath of the anxious woman who enveloped
+them both in the uncomprehending, in the despairing and wondering
+glances of her wild and mournful eyes.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+
+Willems turned a little from her and spoke lower.
+
+"Look at that," he said, with an almost imperceptible movement of
+his head towards the woman to whom he was presenting his
+shoulder. "Look at that! Don't believe her! What has she been
+saying to you? What? I have been asleep. Had to sleep at last.
+I've been waiting for you three days and nights. I had to sleep
+some time. Hadn't I? I told her to remain awake and watch for
+you, and call me at once. She did watch. You can't believe her.
+You can't believe any woman. Who can tell what's inside their
+heads? No one. You can know nothing. The only thing you can
+know is that it isn't anything like what comes through their
+lips. They live by the side of you. They seem to hate you, or
+they seem to love you; they caress or torment you; they throw you
+over or stick to you closer than your skin for some inscrutable
+and awful reason of their own--which you can never know! Look at
+her--and look at me. At me!--her infernal work. What has she
+been saying?"
+
+His voice had sunk to a whisper. Lingard listened with great
+attention, holding his chin in his hand, which grasped a great
+handful of his white beard. His elbow was in the palm of his
+other hand, and his eyes were still fixed on the ground. He
+murmured, without looking up--
+
+"She begged me for your life--if you want to know--as if the
+thing were worth giving or taking!"
+
+"And for three days she begged me to take yours," said Willems
+quickly. "For three days she wouldn't give me any peace. She
+was never still. She planned ambushes. She has been looking for
+places all over here where I could hide and drop you with a safe
+shot as you walked up. It's true. I give you my word."
+
+"Your word," muttered Lingard, contemptuously.
+
+Willems took no notice.
+
+"Ah! She is a ferocious creature," he went on. "You don't know .
+. . I wanted to pass the time--to do something--to have
+something to think about--to forget my troubles till you came
+back. And . . . look at her . . . she took me as if I did not
+belong to myself. She did. I did not know there was something
+in me she could get hold of. She, a savage. I, a civilized
+European, and clever! She that knew no more than a wild animal!
+Well, she found out something in me. She found it out, and I was
+lost. I knew it. She tormented me. I was ready to do anything.
+I resisted--but I was ready. I knew that too. That frightened
+me more than anything; more than my own sufferings; and that was
+frightful enough, I assure you."
+
+Lingard listened, fascinated and amazed like a child listening to
+a fairy tale, and, when Willems stopped for breath, he shuffled
+his feet a little.
+
+"What does he say?" cried out Aissa, suddenly.
+
+The two men looked at her quickly, and then looked at one
+another.
+
+Willems began again, speaking hurriedly--
+
+"I tried to do something. Take her away from those people. I
+went to Almayer; the biggest blind fool that you ever . . . Then
+Abdulla came--and she went away. She took away with her
+something of me which I had to get back. I had to do it. As far
+as you are concerned, the change here had to happen sooner or
+later; you couldn't be master here for ever. It isn't what I
+have done that torments me. It is the why. It's the madness
+that drove me to it. It's that thing that came over me. That
+may come again, some day."
+
+"It will do no harm to anybody then, I promise you," said
+Lingard, significantly.
+
+Willems looked at him for a second with a blank stare, then went
+on--
+
+"I fought against her. She goaded me to violence and to murder.
+Nobody knows why. She pushed me to it persistently, desperately,
+all the time. Fortunately Abdulla had sense. I don't know what
+I wouldn't have done. She held me then. Held me like a
+nightmare that is terrible and sweet. By and by it was another
+life. I woke up. I found myself beside an animal as full of
+harm as a wild cat. You don't know through what I have passed.
+Her father tried to kill me--and she very nearly killed him. I
+believe she would have stuck at nothing. I don't know which was
+more terrible! She would have stuck at nothing to defend her
+own. And when I think that it was me--me--Willems . . . I hate
+her. To-morrow she may want my life. How can I know what's in
+her? She may want to kill me next!"
+
+He paused in great trepidation, then added in a scared tone--
+
+"I don't want to die here."
+
+"Don't you?" said Lingard, thoughtfully.
+
+Willems turned towards Aissa and pointed at her with a bony
+forefinger.
+
+"Look at her! Always there. Always near. Always watching,
+watching . . . for something. Look at her eyes. Ain't they big?
+Don't they stare? You wouldn't think she can shut them like
+human beings do. I don't believe she ever does. I go to sleep,
+if I can, under their stare, and when I wake up I see them fixed
+on me and moving no more than the eyes of a corpse. While I am
+still they are still. By God--she can't move them till I stir,
+and then they follow me like a pair of jailers. They watch me;
+when I stop they seem to wait patient and glistening till I am
+off my guard--for to do something. To do something horrible.
+Look at them! You can see nothing in them. They are big,
+menacing--and empty. The eyes of a savage; of a damned mongrel,
+half-Arab, half-Malay. They hurt me! I am white! I swear to
+you I can't stand this! Take me away. I am white! All white!"
+
+He shouted towards the sombre heaven, proclaiming desperately
+under the frown of thickening clouds the fact of his pure and
+superior descent. He shouted, his head thrown up, his arms
+swinging about wildly; lean, ragged, disfigured; a tall madman
+making a great disturbance about something invisible; a being
+absurd, repulsive, pathetic, and droll. Lingard, who was looking
+down as if absorbed in deep thought, gave him a quick glance from
+under his eyebrows: Aissa stood with clasped hands. At the other
+end of the courtyard the old woman, like a vague and decrepit
+apparition, rose noiselessly to look, then sank down again with a
+stealthy movement and crouched low over the small glow of the
+fire. Willems' voice filled the enclosure, rising louder with
+every word, and then, suddenly, at its very loudest, stopped
+short--like water stops running from an over-turned vessel. As
+soon as it had ceased the thunder seemed to take up the burden in
+a low growl coming from the inland hills. The noise approached
+in confused mutterings which kept on increasing, swelling into a
+roar that came nearer, rushed down the river, passed close in a
+tearing crash--and instantly sounded faint, dying away in
+monotonous and dull repetitions amongst the endless sinuosities
+of the lower reaches. Over the great forests, over all the
+innumerable people of unstirring trees--over all that living
+people immense, motionless, and mute--the silence, that had
+rushed in on the track of the passing tumult, remained suspended
+as deep and complete as if it had never been disturbed from the
+beginning of remote ages. Then, through it, after a time, came
+to Lingard's ears the voice of the running river: a voice low,
+discreet, and sad, like the persistent and gentle voices that
+speak of the past in the silence of dreams.
+
+He felt a great emptiness in his heart. It seemed to him that
+there was within his breast a great space without any light,
+where his thoughts wandered forlornly, unable to escape, unable
+to rest, unable to die, to vanish--and to relieve him from the
+fearful oppression of their existence. Speech, action, anger,
+forgiveness, all appeared to him alike useless and vain, appeared
+to him unsatisfactory, not worth the effort of hand or brain that
+was needed to give them effect. He could not see why he should
+not remain standing there, without ever doing anything, to the
+end of time. He felt something, something like a heavy chain,
+that held him there. This wouldn't do. He backed away a little
+from Willems and Aissa, leaving them close together, then stopped
+and looked at both. The man and the woman appeared to him much
+further than they really were. He had made only about three
+steps backward, but he believed for a moment that another step
+would take him out of earshot for ever. They appeared to him
+slightly under life size, and with a great cleanness of outlines,
+like figures carved with great precision of detail and highly
+finished by a skilful hand. He pulled himself together. The
+strong consciousness of his own personality came back to him. He
+had a notion of surveying them from a great and inaccessible
+height.
+
+He said slowly: "You have been possessed of a devil."
+
+"Yes," answered Willems gloomily, and looking at Aissa. "Isn't
+it pretty?"
+
+"I've heard this kind of talk before," said Lingard, in a
+scornful tone; then paused, and went on steadily after a while:
+"I regret nothing. I picked you up by the waterside, like a
+starving cat--by God. I regret nothing; nothing that I have
+done. Abdulla--twenty others--no doubt Hudig himself, were after
+me. That's business--for them. But that you should . . . Money
+belongs to him who picks it up and is strong enough to keep
+it--but this thing was different. It was part of my life. . . .
+I am an old fool."
+
+He was. The breath of his words, of the very words he spoke,
+fanned the spark of divine folly in his breast, the spark that
+made him--the hard-headed, heavy-handed adventurer--stand out
+from the crowd, from the sordid, from the joyous, unscrupulous,
+and noisy crowd of men that were so much like himself.
+
+Willems said hurriedly: "It wasn't me. The evil was not in me,
+Captain Lingard."
+
+"And where else confound you! Where else?" interrupted Lingard,
+raising his voice. "Did you ever see me cheat and lie and steal?
+Tell me that. Did you? Hey? I wonder where in perdition you
+came from when I found you under my feet. . . . No matter. You
+will do no more harm."
+
+Willems moved nearer, gazing upon him anxiously. Lingard went on
+with distinct deliberation--
+
+"What did you expect when you asked me to see you? What? You
+know me. I am Lingard. You lived with me. You've heard men
+speak. You knew what you had done. Well! What did you expect?"
+
+"How can I know?" groaned Willems, wringing his hands; "I was
+alone in that infernal savage crowd. I was delivered into their
+hands. After the thing was done, I felt so lost and weak that I
+would have called the devil himself to my aid if it had been any
+good--if he hadn't put in all his work already. In the whole
+world there was only one man that had ever cared for me. Only
+one white man. You! Hate is better than being alone! Death is
+better! I expected . . . anything. Something to expect.
+Something to take me out of this. Out of her sight!"
+
+He laughed. His laugh seemed to be torn out from him against his
+will, seemed to be brought violently on the surface from under
+his bitterness, his self-contempt, from under his despairing
+wonder at his own nature.
+
+"When I think that when I first knew her it seemed to me that my
+whole life wouldn't be enough to . . . And now when I look at
+her! She did it all. I must have been mad. I was mad. Every
+time I look at her I remember my madness. It frightens me. . . .
+And when I think that of all my life, of all my past, of all my
+future, of my intelligence, of my work, there is nothing left but
+she, the cause of my ruin, and you whom I have mortally offended
+. . ."
+
+He hid his face for a moment in his hands, and when he took them
+away he had lost the appearance of comparative calm and gave way
+to a wild distress.
+
+"Captain Lingard . . . anything . . . a deserted island . . .
+anywhere . . . I promise . . ."
+
+"Shut up!" shouted Lingard, roughly.
+
+He became dumb, suddenly, completely.
+
+The wan light of the clouded morning retired slowly from the
+courtyard, from the clearings, from the river, as if it had gone
+unwillingly to hide in the enigmatical solitudes of the gloomy
+and silent forests. The clouds over their heads thickened into a
+low vault of uniform blackness. The air was still and
+inexpressibly oppressive. Lingard unbuttoned his jacket, flung
+it wide open and, inclining his body sideways a little, wiped his
+forehead with his hand, which he jerked sharply afterwards. Then
+he looked at Willems and said--
+
+"No promise of yours is any good to me. I am going to take your
+conduct into my own hands. Pay attention to what I am going to
+say. You are my prisoner."
+
+Willems' head moved imperceptibly; then he became rigid and
+still. He seemed not to breathe.
+
+"You shall stay here," continued Lingard, with sombre
+deliberation. "You are not fit to go amongst people. Who could
+suspect, who could guess, who could imagine what's in you? I
+couldn't! You are my mistake. I shall hide you here. If I let
+you out you would go amongst unsuspecting men, and lie, and
+steal, and cheat for a little money or for some woman. I don't
+care about shooting you. It would be the safest way though. But
+I won't. Do not expect me to forgive you. To forgive one must
+have been angry and become contemptuous, and there is nothing in
+me now--no anger, no contempt, no disappointment. To me you are
+not Willems, the man I befriended and helped through thick and
+thin, and thought much of . . . You are not a human being that
+may be destroyed or forgiven. You are a bitter thought, a
+something without a body and that must be hidden . . . You are
+my shame."
+
+He ceased and looked slowly round. How dark it was! It seemed
+to him that the light was dying prematurely out of the world and
+that the air was already dead.
+
+"Of course," he went on, "I shall see to it that you don't
+starve."
+
+"You don't mean to say that I must live here, Captain Lingard?"
+said Willems, in a kind of mechanical voice without any
+inflections.
+
+"Did you ever hear me say something I did not mean?" asked
+Lingard. "You said you didn't want to die here--well, you must
+live . . . Unless you change your mind," he added, as if in
+involuntary afterthought.
+
+He looked at Willems narrowly, then shook his head.
+
+"You are alone," he went on. "Nothing can help you. Nobody
+will. You are neither white nor brown. You have no colour as
+you have no heart. Your accomplices have abandoned you to me
+because I am still somebody to be reckoned with. You are alone
+but for that woman there. You say you did this for her. Well,
+you have her."
+
+Willems mumbled something, and then suddenly caught his hair with
+both his hands and remained standing so. Aissa, who had been
+looking at him, turned to Lingard.
+
+"What did you say, Rajah Laut?" she cried.
+
+There was a slight stir amongst the filmy threads of her
+disordered hair, the bushes by the river sides trembled, the big
+tree nodded precipitately over them with an abrupt rustle, as if
+waking with a start from a troubled sleep--and the breath of hot
+breeze passed, light, rapid, and scorching, under the clouds that
+whirled round, unbroken but undulating, like a restless phantom
+of a sombre sea.
+
+Lingard looked at her pityingly before he said--
+
+"I have told him that he must live here all his life . . . and
+with you."
+
+The sun seemed to have gone out at last like a flickering light
+away up beyond the clouds, and in the stifling gloom of the
+courtyard the three figures stood colourless and shadowy, as if
+surrounded by a black and superheated mist. Aissa looked at
+Willems, who remained still, as though he had been changed into
+stone in the very act of tearing his hair. Then she turned her
+head towards Lingard and shouted--
+
+"You lie! You lie! . . . White man. Like you all do. You . .
+. whom Abdulla made small. You lie!"
+
+Her words rang out shrill and venomous with her secret scorn,
+with her overpowering desire to wound regardless of consequences;
+in her woman's reckless desire to cause suffering at any cost, to
+cause it by the sound of her own voice--by her own voice, that
+would carry the poison of her thought into the hated heart.
+
+Willems let his hands fall, and began to mumble again. Lingard
+turned his ear towards him instinctively, caught something that
+sounded like "Very well"--then some more mumbling--then a sigh.
+
+"As far as the rest of the world is concerned," said Lingard,
+after waiting for awhile in an attentive attitude, "your life is
+finished. Nobody will be able to throw any of your villainies in
+my teeth; nobody will be able to point at you and say, 'Here goes
+a scoundrel of Lingard's up-bringing.' You are buried here."
+
+"And you think that I will stay . . . that I will submit?"
+exclaimed Willems, as if he had suddenly recovered the power of
+speech.
+
+"You needn't stay here--on this spot," said Lingard, drily.
+"There are the forests--and here is the river. You may swim.
+Fifteen miles up, or forty down. At one end you will meet
+Almayer, at the other the sea. Take your choice."
+
+He burst into a short, joyless laugh, then added with severe
+gravity--
+
+"There is also another way."
+
+"If you want to drive my soul into damnation by trying to drive
+me to suicide you will not succeed," said Willems in wild
+excitement. "I will live. I shall repent. I may escape. . . .
+Take that woman away--she is sin."
+
+A hooked dart of fire tore in two the darkness of the distant
+horizon and lit up the gloom of the earth with a dazzling and
+ghastly flame. Then the thunder was heard far away, like an
+incredibly enormous voice muttering menaces.
+
+Lingard said--
+
+"I don't care what happens, but I may tell you that without that
+woman your life is not worth much--not twopence. There is a
+fellow here who . . . and Abdulla himself wouldn't stand on any
+ceremony. Think of that! And then she won't go."
+
+He began, even while he spoke, to walk slowly down towards the
+little gate. He didn't look, but he felt as sure that Willems
+was following him as if he had been leading him by a string.
+Directly he had passed through the wicket-gate into the big
+courtyard he heard a voice, behind his back, saying--
+
+"I think she was right. I ought to have shot you. I couldn't
+have been worse off."
+
+"Time yet," answered Lingard, without stopping or looking back.
+"But, you see, you can't. There is not even that in you."
+
+"Don't provoke me, Captain Lingard," cried Willems.
+
+Lingard turned round sharply. Willems and Aissa stopped.
+Another forked flash of lightning split up the clouds overhead,
+and threw upon their faces a sudden burst of light--a blaze
+violent, sinister and fleeting; and in the same instant they were
+deafened by a near, single crash of thunder, which was followed
+by a rushing noise, like a frightened sigh of the startled earth.
+
+"Provoke you!" said the old adventurer, as soon as he could make
+himself heard. "Provoke you! Hey! What's there in you to
+provoke? What do I care?"
+
+"It is easy to speak like that when you know that in the whole
+world--in the whole world--I have no friend," said Willems.
+
+"Whose fault?" said Lingard, sharply.
+
+Their voices, after the deep and tremendous noise, sounded to
+them very unsatisfactory--thin and frail, like the voices of
+pigmies--and they became suddenly silent, as if on that account.
+From up the courtyard Lingard's boatmen came down and passed
+them, keeping step in a single file, their paddles on shoulder,
+and holding their heads straight with their eyes fixed on the
+river. Ali, who was walking last, stopped before Lingard, very
+stiff and upright. He said--
+
+"That one-eyed Babalatchi is gone, with all his women. He took
+everything. All the pots and boxes. Big. Heavy. Three boxes."
+
+He grinned as if the thing had been amusing, then added with an
+appearance of anxious concern, "Rain coming."
+
+"We return," said Lingard. "Make ready."
+
+"Aye, aye, sir!" ejaculated Ali with precision, and moved on. He
+had been quartermaster with Lingard before making up his mind to
+stay in Sambir as Almayer's head man. He strutted towards the
+landing-place thinking proudly that he was not like those other
+ignorant boatmen, and knew how to answer properly the very
+greatest of white captains.
+
+"You have misunderstood me from the first, Captain Lingard," said
+Willems.
+
+"Have I? It's all right, as long as there is no mistake about my
+meaning," answered Lingard, strolling slowly to the
+landing-place. Willems followed him, and Aissa followed Willems.
+
+Two hands were extended to help Lingard in embarking. He stepped
+cautiously and heavily into the long and narrow canoe, and sat in
+the canvas folding-chair that had been placed in the middle. He
+leaned back and turned his head to the two figures that stood on
+the bank a little above him. Aissa's eyes were fastened on his
+face in a visible impatience to see him gone. Willems' look went
+straight above the canoe, straight at the forest on the other
+side of the river.
+
+"All right, Ali," said Lingard, in a low voice.
+
+A slight stir animated the faces, and a faint murmur ran along
+the line of paddlers. The foremost man pushed with the point of
+his paddle, canted the fore end out of the dead water into the
+current; and the canoe fell rapidly off before the rush of brown
+water, the stern rubbing gently against the low bank.
+
+"We shall meet again, Captain Lingard!" cried Willems, in an
+unsteady voice.
+
+"Never!" said Lingard, turning half round in his chair to look at
+Willems. His fierce red eyes glittered remorselessly over the
+high back of his seat.
+
+"Must cross the river. Water less quick over there," said Ali.
+
+He pushed in his turn now with all his strength, throwing his
+body recklessly right out over the stern. Then he recovered
+himself just in time into the squatting attitude of a monkey
+perched on a high shelf, and shouted: "Dayong!"
+
+The paddles struck the water together. The canoe darted forward
+and went on steadily crossing the river with a sideways motion
+made up of its own speed and the downward drift of the current.
+
+Lingard watched the shore astern. The woman shook her hand at
+him, and then squatted at the feet of the man who stood
+motionless. After a while she got up and stood beside him,
+reaching up to his head--and Lingard saw then that she had wetted
+some part of her covering and was trying to wash the dried blood
+off the man's immovable face, which did not seem to know anything
+about it. Lingard turned away and threw himself back in his
+chair, stretching his legs out with a sigh of fatigue. His head
+fell forward; and under his red face the white beard lay fan-like
+on his breast, the ends of fine long hairs all astir in the faint
+draught made by the rapid motion of the craft that carried him
+away from his prisoner--from the only thing in his life he wished
+to hide.
+
+In its course across the river the canoe came into the line of
+Willems' sight and his eyes caught the image, followed it eagerly
+as it glided, small but distinct, on the dark background of the
+forest. He could see plainly the figure of the man sitting in
+the middle. All his life he had felt that man behind his back, a
+reassuring presence ready with help, with commendation, with
+advice; friendly in reproof, enthusiastic in approbation; a man
+inspiring confidence by his strength, by his fearlessness, by the
+very weakness of his simple heart. And now that man was going
+away. He must call him back.
+
+He shouted, and his words, which he wanted to throw across the
+river, seemed to fall helplessly at his feet. Aissa put her hand
+on his arm in a restraining attempt, but he shook it off. He
+wanted to call back his very life that was going away from him.
+He shouted again--and this time he did not even hear himself. No
+use. He would never return. And he stood in sullen silence
+looking at the white figure over there, lying back in the chair
+in the middle of the boat; a figure that struck him suddenly as
+very terrible, heartless and astonishing, with its unnatural
+appearance of running over the water in an attitude of languid
+repose.
+
+For a time nothing on earth stirred, seemingly, but the canoe,
+which glided up-stream with a motion so even and smooth that it
+did not convey any sense of movement. Overhead, the massed
+clouds appeared solid and steady as if held there in a powerful
+grip, but on their uneven surface there was a continuous and
+trembling glimmer, a faint reflection of the distant lightning
+from the thunderstorm that had broken already on the coast and
+was working its way up the river with low and angry growls.
+Willems looked on, as motionless as everything round him and
+above him. Only his eyes seemed to live, as they followed the
+canoe on its course that carried it away from him, steadily,
+unhesitatingly, finally, as if it were going, not up the great
+river into the momentous excitement of Sambir, but straight into
+the past, into the past crowded yet empty, like an old cemetery
+full of neglected graves, where lie dead hopes that never return.
+
+From time to time he felt on his face the passing, warm touch of
+an immense breath coming from beyond the forest, like the short
+panting of an oppressed world. Then the heavy air round him was
+pierced by a sharp gust of wind, bringing with it the fresh, damp
+feel of the falling rain; and all the innumerable tree-tops of
+the forests swayed to the left and sprang back again in a
+tumultuous balancing of nodding branches and shuddering leaves.
+A light frown ran over the river, the clouds stirred slowly,
+changing their aspect but not their place, as if they had turned
+ponderously over; and when the sudden movement had died out in a
+quickened tremor of the slenderest twigs, there was a short
+period of formidable immobility above and below, during which the
+voice of the thunder was heard, speaking in a sustained, emphatic
+and vibrating roll, with violent louder bursts of crashing sound,
+like a wrathful and threatening discourse of an angry god. For a
+moment it died out, and then another gust of wind passed, driving
+before it a white mist which filled the space with a cloud of
+waterdust that hid suddenly from Willems the canoe, the forests,
+the river itself; that woke him up from his numbness in a forlorn
+shiver, that made him look round despairingly to see nothing but
+the whirling drift of rain spray before the freshening breeze,
+while through it the heavy big drops fell about him with sonorous
+and rapid beats upon the dry earth. He made a few hurried steps
+up the courtyard and was arrested by an immense sheet of water
+that fell all at once on him, fell sudden and overwhelming from
+the clouds, cutting his respiration, streaming over his head,
+clinging to him, running down his body, off his arms, off his
+legs. He stood gasping while the water beat him in a vertical
+downpour, drove on him slanting in squalls, and he felt the drops
+striking him from above, from everywhere; drops thick, pressed
+and dashing at him as if flung from all sides by a mob of
+infuriated hands. From under his feet a great vapour of broken
+water floated up, he felt the ground become soft--melt under
+him--and saw the water spring out from the dry earth to meet the
+water that fell from the sombre heaven. An insane dread took
+possession of him, the dread of all that water around him, of the
+water that ran down the courtyard towards him, of the water that
+pressed him on every side, of the slanting water that drove
+across his face in wavering sheets which gleamed pale red with
+the flicker of lightning streaming through them, as if fire and
+water were falling together, monstrously mixed, upon the stunned
+earth.
+
+He wanted to run away, but when he moved it was to slide about
+painfully and slowly upon that earth which had become mud so
+suddenly under his feet. He fought his way up the courtyard like
+a man pushing through a crowd, his head down, one shoulder
+forward, stopping often, and sometimes carried back a pace or two
+in the rush of water which his heart was not stout enough to
+face. Aissa followed him step by step, stopping when he stopped,
+recoiling with him, moving forward with him in his toilsome way
+up the slippery declivity of the courtyard, of that courtyard,
+from which everything seemed to have been swept away by the first
+rush of the mighty downpour. They could see nothing. The tree,
+the bushes, the house, and the fences--all had disappeared in the
+thickness of the falling rain. Their hair stuck, streaming, to
+their heads; their clothing clung to them, beaten close to their
+bodies; water ran off them, off their heads over their shoulders.
+They moved, patient, upright, slow and dark, in the gleam clear
+or fiery of the falling drops, under the roll of unceasing
+thunder, like two wandering ghosts of the drowned that, condemned
+to haunt the water for ever, had come up from the river to look
+at the world under a deluge.
+
+On the left the tree seemed to step out to meet them, appearing
+vaguely, high, motionless and patient; with a rustling plaint of
+its innumerable leaves through which every drop of water tore its
+separate way with cruel haste. And then, to the right, the house
+surged up in the mist, very black, and clamorous with the quick
+patter of rain on its high-pitched roof above the steady splash
+of the water running off the eaves. Down the plankway leading to
+the door flowed a thin and pellucid stream, and when Willems
+began his ascent it broke over his foot as if he were going up a
+steep ravine in the bed of a rapid and shallow torrent. Behind
+his heels two streaming smudges of mud stained for an instant the
+purity of the rushing water, and then he splashed his way up with
+a spurt and stood on the bamboo platform before the open door
+under the shelter of the overhanging eaves--under shelter at
+last!
+
+A low moan ending in a broken and plaintive mutter arrested
+Willems on the threshold. He peered round in the half-light
+under the roof and saw the old woman crouching close to the wall
+in a shapeless heap, and while he looked he felt a touch of two
+arms on his shoulders. Aissa! He had forgotten her. He turned,
+and she clasped him round the neck instantly, pressing close to
+him as if afraid of violence or escape. He stiffened himself in
+repulsion, in horror, in the mysterious revolt of his heart;
+while she clung to him--clung to him as if he were a refuge from
+misery, from storm, from weariness, from fear, from despair; and
+it was on the part of that being an embrace terrible, enraged and
+mournful, in which all her strength went out to make him captive,
+to hold him for ever.
+
+He said nothing. He looked into her eyes while he struggled with
+her fingers about the nape of his neck, and suddenly he tore her
+hands apart, holding her arms up in a strong grip of her wrists,
+and bending his swollen face close over hers, he said--
+
+"It is all your doing. You . . ."
+
+She did not understand him--not a word. He spoke in the language
+of his people--of his people that know no mercy and no shame.
+And he was angry. Alas! he was always angry now, and always
+speaking words that she could not understand. She stood in
+silence, looking at him through her patient eyes, while he shook
+her arms a little and then flung them down.
+
+"Don't follow me!" he shouted. "I want to be alone--I mean to be
+left alone!"
+
+He went in, leaving the door open.
+
+She did not move. What need to understand the words when they
+are spoken in such a voice? In that voice which did not seem to
+be his voice--his voice when he spoke by the brook, when he was
+never angry and always smiling! Her eyes were fixed upon the
+dark doorway, but her hands strayed mechanically upwards; she
+took up all her hair, and, inclining her head slightly over her
+shoulder, wrung out the long black tresses, twisting them
+persistently, while she stood, sad and absorbed, like one
+listening to an inward voice--the voice of bitter, of unavailing
+regret. The thunder had ceased, the wind had died out, and the
+rain fell perpendicular and steady through a great pale
+clearness--the light of remote sun coming victorious from amongst
+the dissolving blackness of the clouds. She stood near the
+doorway. He was there--alone in the gloom of the dwelling. He
+was there. He spoke not. What was in his mind now? What fear?
+What desire? Not the desire of her as in the days when he used
+to smile . . . How could she know? . . .
+
+A sigh coming from the bottom of her heart, flew out into the
+world through her parted lips. A sigh faint, profound, and
+broken; a sigh full of pain and fear, like the sigh of those who
+are about to face the unknown: to face it in loneliness, in
+doubt, and without hope. She let go her hair, that fell
+scattered over her shoulders like a funeral veil, and she sank
+down suddenly by the door. Her hands clasped her ankles; she
+rested her head on her drawn-up knees, and remained still, very
+still, under the streaming mourning of her hair. She was
+thinking of him; of the days by the brook; she was thinking of
+all that had been their love--and she sat in the abandoned
+posture of those who sit weeping by the dead, of those who watch
+and mourn over a corpse.
+
+
+
+
+PART V
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE
+
+Almayer propped, alone on the verandah of his house, with both
+his elbows on the table, and holding his head between his hands,
+stared before him, away over the stretch of sprouting young grass
+in his courtyard, and over the short jetty with its cluster of
+small canoes, amongst which his big whale-boat floated high, like
+a white mother of all that dark and aquatic brood. He stared on
+the river, past the schooner anchored in mid-stream, past the
+forests of the left bank; he stared through and past the illusion
+of the material world.
+
+The sun was sinking. Under the sky was stretched a network of
+white threads, a network fine and close-meshed, where here and
+there were caught thicker white vapours of globular shape; and to
+the eastward, above the ragged barrier of the forests, surged the
+summits of a chain of great clouds, growing bigger slowly, in
+imperceptible motion, as if careful not to disturb the glowing
+stillness of the earth and of the sky. Abreast of the house the
+river was empty but for the motionless schooner. Higher up, a
+solitary log came out from the bend above and went on drifting
+slowly down the straight reach: a dead and wandering tree going
+out to its grave in the sea, between two ranks of trees
+motionless and living.
+
+And Almayer sat, his face in his hands, looking on and hating all
+this: the muddy river; the faded blue of the sky; the black log
+passing by on its first and last voyage; the green sea of
+leaves--the sea that glowed shimmered, and stirred above the
+uniform and impenetrable gloom of the forests--the joyous sea of
+living green powdered with the brilliant dust of oblique sunrays.
+
+He hated all this; he begrudged every day--every minute--of his
+life spent amongst all these things; he begrudged it bitterly,
+angrily, with enraged and immense regret, like a miser compelled
+to give up some of his treasure to a near relation. And yet all
+this was very precious to him. It was the present sign of a
+splendid future.
+
+He pushed the table away impatiently, got up, made a few steps
+aimlessly, then stood by the balustrade and again looked at the
+river--at that river which would have been the instrument for the
+making of his fortune if . . . if . . .
+
+"What an abominable brute!" he said.
+
+He was alone, but he spoke aloud, as one is apt to do under the
+impulse of a strong, of an overmastering thought.
+
+"What a brute!" he muttered again.
+
+The river was dark now, and the schooner lay on it, a black, a
+lonely, and a graceful form, with the slender masts darting
+upwards from it in two frail and raking lines. The shadows of
+the evening crept up the trees, crept up from bough to bough,
+till at last the long sunbeams coursing from the western horizon
+skimmed lightly over the topmost branches, then flew upwards
+amongst the piled-up clouds, giving them a sombre and fiery
+aspect in the last flush of light. And suddenly the light
+disappeared as if lost in the immensity of the great, blue, and
+empty hollow overhead. The sun had set: and the forests became a
+straight wall of formless blackness. Above them, on the edge of
+lingering clouds, a single star glimmered fitfully, obscured now
+and then by the rapid flight of high and invisible vapours.
+
+Almayer fought with the uneasiness within his breast. He heard
+Ali, who moved behind him preparing his evening meal, and he
+listened with strange attention to the sounds the man made--to
+the short, dry bang of the plate put upon the table, to the clink
+of glass and the metallic rattle of knife and fork. The man went
+away. Now he was coming back. He would speak directly; and
+Almayer, notwithstanding the absorbing gravity of his thoughts,
+listened for the sound of expected words. He heard them, spoken
+in English with painstaking distinctness.
+
+"Ready, sir!"
+
+"All right," said Almayer, curtly. He did not move. He remained
+pensive, with his back to the table upon which stood the lighted
+lamp brought by Ali. He was thinking: Where was Lingard now?
+Halfway down the river probably, in Abdulla's ship. He would be
+back in about three days--perhaps less. And then? Then the
+schooner would have to be got out of the river, and when that
+craft was gone they--he and Lingard--would remain here; alone
+with the constant thought of that other man, that other man
+living near them! What an extraordinary idea to keep him there
+for ever. For ever! What did that mean--for ever? Perhaps a
+year, perhaps ten years. Preposterous! Keep him there ten
+years--or may be twenty! The fellow was capable of living more
+than twenty years. And for all that time he would have to be
+watched, fed, looked after. There was nobody but Lingard to have
+such notions. Twenty years! Why, no! In less than ten years
+their fortune would be made and they would leave this place,
+first for Batavia--yes, Batavia--and then for Europe. England,
+no doubt. Lingard would want to go to England. And would they
+leave that man here? How would that fellow look in ten years?
+Very old probably. Well, devil take him. Nina would be fifteen.
+She would be rich and very pretty and he himself would not be so
+old then. . . ."
+
+Almayer smiled into the night.
+
+. . . Yes, rich! Why! Of course! Captain Lingard was a
+resourceful man, and he had plenty of money even now. They were
+rich already; but not enough. Decidedly not enough. Money
+brings money. That gold business was good. Famous! Captain
+Lingard was a remarkable man. He said the gold was there--and it
+was there. Lingard knew what he was talking about. But he had
+queer ideas. For instance, about Willems. Now what did he want
+to keep him alive for? Why?
+
+"That scoundrel," muttered Almayer again.
+
+"Makan Tuan!" ejaculated Ali suddenly, very loud in a pressing
+tone.
+
+Almayer walked to the table, sat down, and his anxious visage
+dropped from above into the light thrown down by the lamp-shade.
+He helped himself absently, and began to eat in great mouthfuls.
+
+. . . Undoubtedly, Lingard was the man to stick to! The man
+undismayed, masterful and ready. How quickly he had planned a
+new future when Willems' treachery destroyed their established
+position in Sambir! And the position even now was not so bad.
+What an immense prestige that Lingard had with all those
+people--Arabs, Malays and all. Ah, it was good to be able to
+call a man like that father. Fine! Wonder how much money really
+the old fellow had. People talked--they exaggerated surely, but
+if he had only half of what they said . . .
+
+He drank, throwing his head up, and fell to again.
+
+. . . Now, if that Willems had known how to play his cards well,
+had he stuck to the old fellow he would have been in his
+position, he would be now married to Lingard's adopted daughter
+with his future assured--splendid . . .
+
+"The beast!" growled Almayer, between two mouthfuls.
+
+Ali stood rigidly straight with an uninterested face, his gaze
+lost in the night which pressed round the small circle of light
+that shone on the table, on the glass, on the bottle, and on
+Almayer's head as he leaned over his plate moving his jaws.
+
+. . . A famous man Lingard--yet you never knew what he would do
+next. It was notorious that he had shot a white man once for
+less than Willems had done. For less? . . . Why, for nothing,
+so to speak! It was not even his own quarrel. It was about some
+Malay returning from pilgrimage with wife and children.
+Kidnapped, or robbed, or something. A stupid story--an old
+story. And now he goes to see that Willems and--nothing. Comes
+back talking big about his prisoner; but after all he said very
+little. What did that Willems tell him? What passed between
+them? The old fellow must have had something in his mind when he
+let that scoundrel off. And Joanna! She would get round the old
+fellow. Sure. Then he would forgive perhaps. Impossible. But
+at any rate he would waste a lot of money on them. The old man
+was tenacious in his hates, but also in his affections. He had
+known that beast Willems from a boy. They would make it up in a
+year or so. Everything is possible: why did he not rush off at
+first and kill the brute? That would have been more like
+Lingard. . . .
+
+Almayer laid down his spoon suddenly, and pushing his plate away,
+threw himself back in the chair.
+
+. . . Unsafe. Decidedly unsafe. He had no mind to share
+Lingard's money with anybody. Lingard's money was Nina's money
+in a sense. And if Willems managed to become friendly with the
+old man it would be dangerous for him--Almayer. Such an
+unscrupulous scoundrel! He would oust him from his position. He
+would lie and slander. Everything would be lost. Lost. Poor
+Nina. What would become of her? Poor child. For her sake he
+must remove that Willems. Must. But how? Lingard wanted to be
+obeyed. Impossible to kill Willems. Lingard might be angry.
+Incredible, but so it was. He might . . .
+
+A wave of heat passed through Almayer's body, flushed his face,
+and broke out of him in copious perspiration. He wriggled in his
+chair, and pressed his hands together under the table. What an
+awful prospect! He fancied he could see Lingard and Willems
+reconciled and going away arm-in-arm, leaving him alone in this
+God-forsaken hole--in Sambir--in this deadly swamp! And all his
+sacrifices, the sacrifice of his independence, of his best years,
+his surrender to Lingard's fancies and caprices, would go for
+nothing! Horrible! Then he thought of his little daughter--his
+daughter!--and the ghastliness of his supposition overpowered
+him. He had a deep emotion, a sudden emotion that made him feel
+quite faint at the idea of that young life spoiled before it had
+fairly begun. His dear child's life! Lying back in his chair he
+covered his face with both his hands.
+
+Ali glanced down at him and said, unconcernedly--"Master finish?"
+
+Almayer was lost in the immensity of his commiseration for
+himself, for his daughter, who was--perhaps--not going to be the
+richest woman in the world--notwithstanding Lingard's promises.
+He did not understand the other's question, and muttered through
+his fingers in a doleful tone--
+
+"What did you say? What? Finish what?"
+
+"Clear up meza," explained Ali.
+
+"Clear up!" burst out Almayer, with incomprehensible
+exasperation. "Devil take you and the table. Stupid!
+Chatterer! Chelakka! Get out!"
+
+He leaned forward, glaring at his head man, then sank back in his
+seat with his arms hanging straight down on each side of the
+chair. And he sat motionless in a meditation so concentrated and
+so absorbing, with all his power of thought so deep within
+himself, that all expression disappeared from his face in an
+aspect of staring vacancy.
+
+Ali was clearing the table. He dropped negligently the tumbler
+into the greasy dish, flung there the spoon and fork, then
+slipped in the plate with a push amongst the remnants of food.
+He took up the dish, tucked up the bottle under his armpit, and
+went off.
+
+"My hammock!" shouted Almayer after him.
+
+"Ada! I come soon," answered Ali from the doorway in an offended
+tone, looking back over his shoulder. . . . How could he clear
+the table and hang the hammock at the same time. Ya-wa! Those
+white men were all alike. Wanted everything done at once. Like
+children . . .
+
+The indistinct murmur of his criticism went away, faded and died
+out together with the soft footfall of his bare feet in the dark
+passage.
+
+For some time Almayer did not move. His thoughts were busy at
+work shaping a momentous resolution, and in the perfect silence
+of the house he believed that he could hear the noise of the
+operation as if the work had been done with a hammer. He
+certainly felt a thumping of strokes, faint, profound, and
+startling, somewhere low down in his breast; and he was aware of
+a sound of dull knocking, abrupt and rapid, in his ears. Now and
+then he held his breath, unconsciously, too long, and had to
+relieve himself by a deep expiration that whistled dully through
+his pursed lips. The lamp standing on the far side of the table
+threw a section of a lighted circle on the floor, where his
+out-stretched legs stuck out from under the table with feet rigid
+and turned up like the feet of a corpse; and his set face with
+fixed eyes would have been also like the face of the dead, but
+for its vacant yet conscious aspect; the hard, the stupid, the
+stony aspect of one not dead, but only buried under the dust,
+ashes, and corruption of personal thoughts, of base fears, of
+selfish desires.
+
+"I will do it!"
+
+Not till he heard his own voice did he know that he had spoken.
+It startled him. He stood up. The knuckles of his hand,
+somewhat behind him, were resting on the edge of the table as he
+remained still with one foot advanced, his lips a little open,
+and thought: It would not do to fool about with Lingard. But I
+must risk it. It's the only way I can see. I must tell her.
+She has some little sense. I wish they were a thousand miles off
+already. A hundred thousand miles. I do. And if it fails. And
+she blabs out then to Lingard? She seemed a fool. No; probably
+they will get away. And if they did, would Lingard believe me?
+Yes. I never lied to him. He would believe. I don't know . . .
+Perhaps he won't. . . . "I must do it. Must!" he argued aloud
+to himself.
+
+For a long time he stood still, looking before him with an
+intense gaze, a gaze rapt and immobile, that seemed to watch the
+minute quivering of a delicate balance, coming to a rest.
+
+To the left of him, in the whitewashed wall of the house that
+formed the back of the verandah, there was a closed door. Black
+letters were painted on it proclaiming the fact that behind that
+door there was the office of Lingard & Co. The interior had been
+furnished by Lingard when he had built the house for his adopted
+daughter and her husband, and it had been furnished with reckless
+prodigality. There was an office desk, a revolving chair,
+bookshelves, a safe: all to humour the weakness of Almayer, who
+thought all those paraphernalia necessary to successful trading.
+Lingard had laughed, but had taken immense trouble to get the
+things. It pleased him to make his protege, his adopted
+son-in-law, happy. It had been the sensation of Sambir some five
+years ago. While the things were being landed, the whole
+settlement literally lived on the river bank in front of the
+Rajah Laut's house, to look, to wonder, to admire. . . . What a
+big meza, with many boxes fitted all over it and under it! What
+did the white man do with such a table? And look, look, O
+Brothers! There is a green square box, with a gold plate on it,
+a box so heavy that those twenty men cannot drag it up the bank.
+Let us go, brothers, and help pull at the ropes, and perchance we
+may see what's inside. Treasure, no doubt. Gold is heavy and
+hard to hold, O Brothers! Let us go and earn a recompense from
+the fierce Rajah of the Sea who shouts over there, with a red
+face. See! There is a man carrying a pile of books from the
+boat! What a number of books. What were they for? . . . And an
+old invalided jurumudi, who had travelled over many seas and had
+heard holy men speak in far-off countries, explained to a small
+knot of unsophisticated citizens of Sambir that those books were
+books of magic--of magic that guides the white men's ships over
+the seas, that gives them their wicked wisdom and their strength;
+of magic that makes them great, powerful, and irresistible while
+they live, and--praise be to Allah!--the victims of Satan, the
+slaves of Jehannum when they die.
+
+And when he saw the room furnished, Almayer had felt proud. In
+his exultation of an empty-headed quill-driver, he thought
+himself, by the virtue of that furniture, at the head of a
+serious business. He had sold himself to Lingard for these
+things--married the Malay girl of his adoption for the reward of
+these things and of the great wealth that must necessarily follow
+upon conscientious book-keeping. He found out very soon that
+trade in Sambir meant something entirely different. He could not
+guide Patalolo, control the irrepressible old Sahamin, or
+restrain the youthful vagaries of the fierce Bahassoen with pen,
+ink, and paper. He found no successful magic in the blank pages
+of his ledgers; and gradually he lost his old point of view in
+the saner appreciation of his situation. The room known as the
+office became neglected then like a temple of an exploded
+superstition. At first, when his wife reverted to her original
+savagery, Almayer, now and again, had sought refuge from her
+there; but after their child began to speak, to know him, he
+became braver, for he found courage and consolation in his
+unreasoning and fierce affection for his daughter--in the
+impenetrable mantle of selfishness he wrapped round both their
+lives: round himself, and that young life that was also his.
+
+When Lingard ordered him to receive Joanna into his house, he had
+a truckle bed put into the office--the only room he could spare.
+The big office desk was pushed on one side, and Joanna came with
+her little shabby trunk and with her child and took possession in
+her dreamy, slack, half-asleep way; took possession of the dust,
+dirt, and squalor, where she appeared naturally at home, where
+she dragged a melancholy and dull existence; an existence made up
+of sad remorse and frightened hope, amongst the hopeless
+disorder--the senseless and vain decay of all these emblems of
+civilized commerce. Bits of white stuff; rags yellow, pink,
+blue: rags limp, brilliant and soiled, trailed on the floor, lay
+on the desk amongst the sombre covers of books soiled, grimy, but
+stiff-backed, in virtue, perhaps, of their European origin. The
+biggest set of bookshelves was partly hidden by a petticoat, the
+waistband of which was caught upon the back of a slender book
+pulled a little out of the row so as to make an improvised
+clothespeg. The folding canvas bedstead stood nearly in the
+middle of the room, stood anyhow, parallel to no wall, as if it
+had been, in the process of transportation to some remote place,
+dropped casually there by tired bearers. And on the tumbled
+blankets that lay in a disordered heap on its edge, Joanna sat
+almost all day with her stockingless feet upon one of the bed
+pillows that were somehow always kicking about the floor. She
+sat there, vaguely tormented at times by the thought of her
+absent husband, but most of the time thinking tearfully of
+nothing at all, looking with swimming eyes at her little son--at
+the big-headed, pasty-faced, and sickly Louis Willems--who rolled
+a glass inkstand, solid with dried ink, about the floor, and
+tottered after it with the portentous gravity of demeanour and
+absolute absorption by the business in hand that characterize the
+pursuits of early childhood. Through the half-open shutter a ray
+of sunlight, a ray merciless and crude, came into the room, beat
+in the early morning upon the safe in the far-off corner, then,
+travelling against the sun, cut at midday the big desk in two
+with its solid and clean-edged brilliance; with its hot
+brilliance in which a swarm of flies hovered in dancing flight
+over some dirty plate forgotten there amongst yellow papers for
+many a day. And towards the evening the cynical ray seemed to
+cling to the ragged petticoat, lingered on it with wicked
+enjoyment of that misery it had exposed all day; lingered on the
+corner of the dusty bookshelf, in a red glow intense and mocking,
+till it was suddenly snatched by the setting sun out of the way
+of the coming night. And the night entered the room. The night
+abrupt, impenetrable and all-filling with its flood of darkness;
+the night cool and merciful; the blind night that saw nothing,
+but could hear the fretful whimpering of the child, the creak of
+the bedstead, Joanna's deep sighs as she turned over, sleepless,
+in the confused conviction of her wickedness, thinking of that
+man masterful, fair-headed, and strong--a man hard perhaps, but
+her husband; her clever and handsome husband to whom she had
+acted so cruelly on the advice of bad people, if her own people;
+and of her poor, dear, deceived mother.
+
+To Almayer, Joanna's presence was a constant worry, a worry
+unobtrusive yet intolerable; a constant, but mostly mute, warning
+of possible danger. In view of the absurd softness of Lingard's
+heart, every one in whom Lingard manifested the slightest
+interest was to Almayer a natural enemy. He was quite alive to
+that feeling, and in the intimacy of the secret intercourse with
+his inner self had often congratulated himself upon his own
+wide-awake comprehension of his position. In that way, and
+impelled by that motive, Almayer had hated many and various
+persons at various times. But he never had hated and feared
+anybody so much as he did hate and fear Willems. Even after
+Willems' treachery, which seemed to remove him beyond the pale of
+all human sympathy, Almayer mistrusted the situation and groaned
+in spirit every time he caught sight of Joanna.
+
+He saw her very seldom in the daytime. But in the short and
+opal-tinted twilights, or in the azure dusk of starry evenings,
+he often saw, before he slept, the slender and tall figure
+trailing to and fro the ragged tail of its white gown over the
+dried mud of the riverside in front of the house. Once or twice
+when he sat late on the verandah, with his feet upon the deal
+table on a level with the lamp, reading the seven months' old
+copy of the North China Herald, brought by Lingard, he heard the
+stairs creak, and, looking round the paper, he saw her frail and
+meagre form rise step by step and toil across the verandah,
+carrying with difficulty the big, fat child, whose head, lying on
+the mother's bony shoulder, seemed of the same size as Joanna's
+own. Several times she had assailed him with tearful clamour or
+mad entreaties: asking about her husband, wanting to know where
+he was, when he would be back; and ending every such outburst
+with despairing and incoherent self-reproaches that were
+absolutely incomprehensible to Almayer. On one or two occasions
+she had overwhelmed her host with vituperative abuse, making him
+responsible for her husband's absence. Those scenes, begun
+without any warning, ended abruptly in a sobbing flight and a
+bang of the door; stirred the house with a sudden, a fierce, and
+an evanescent disturbance; like those inexplicable whirlwinds
+that rise, run, and vanish without apparent cause upon the
+sun-scorched dead level of arid and lamentable plains.
+
+But to-night the house was quiet, deadly quiet, while Almayer
+stood still, watching that delicate balance where he was weighing
+all his chances: Joanna's intelligence, Lingard's credulity,
+Willems' reckless audacity, desire to escape, readiness to seize
+an unexpected opportunity. He weighed, anxious and attentive,
+his fears and his desires against the tremendous risk of a
+quarrel with Lingard. . . . Yes. Lingard would be angry.
+Lingard might suspect him of some connivance in his prisoner's
+escape--but surely he would not quarrel with him--Almayer--about
+those people once they were gone--gone to the devil in their own
+way. And then he had hold of Lingard through the little girl.
+Good. What an annoyance! A prisoner! As if one could keep him
+in there. He was bound to get away some time or other. Of
+course. A situation like that can't last. vAnybody could see
+that. Lingard's eccentricity passed all bounds. You may kill a
+man, but you mustn't torture him. It was almost criminal. It
+caused worry, trouble, and unpleasantness. . . . Almayer for a
+moment felt very angry with Lingard. He made him responsible for
+the anguish he suffered from, for the anguish of doubt and fear;
+for compelling him--the practical and innocent Almayer--to such
+painful efforts of mind in order to find out some issue for
+absurd situations created by the unreasonable sentimentality of
+Lingard's unpractical impulses.
+
+"Now if the fellow were dead it would be all right," said Almayer
+to the verandah.
+
+He stirred a little, and scratching his nose thoughtfully,
+revelled in a short flight of fancy, showing him his own image
+crouching in a big boat, that floated arrested--say fifty yards
+off--abreast of Willems' landing-place. In the bottom of the
+boat there was a gun. A loaded gun. One of the boatmen would
+shout, and Willems would answer--from the bushes.c The rascal
+would be suspicious. Of course. Then the man would wave a piece
+of paper urging Willems to come to the landing-place and receive
+an important message. "From the Rajah Laut" the man would yell
+as the boat edged in-shore, and that would fetch Willems out.
+Wouldn't it? Rather! And Almayer saw himself jumping up at the
+right moment, taking aim, pulling the trigger--and Willems
+tumbling over, his head in the water--the swine!
+
+He seemed to hear the report of the shot. It made him thrill
+from head to foot where he stood. . . . How simple! . . .
+Unfortunate . . . Lingard . . . He sighed, shook his head.
+Pity. Couldn't be done. And couldn't leave him there either!
+Suppose the Arabs were to get hold of him again--for instance to
+lead an expedition up the river! Goodness only knows what harm
+would come of it. . . .
+
+The balance was at rest now and inclining to the side of
+immediate action. Almayer walked to the door, walked up very
+close to it, knocked loudly, and turned his head away, looking
+frightened for a moment at what he had done. After waiting for a
+while he put his ear against the panel and listened. Nothing.
+He composed his features into an agreeable expression while he
+stood listening and thinking to himself: I hear her. Crying.
+Eh? I believe she has lost the little wits she had and is crying
+night and day since I began to prepare her for the news of her
+husband's death--as Lingard told me. I wonder what she thinks.
+It's just like father to make me invent all these stories for
+nothing at all. Out of kindness. Kindness! Damn! . . . She
+isn't deaf, surely.
+
+He knocked again, then said in a friendly tone, grinning
+benevolently at the closed door--
+
+"It's me, Mrs. Willems. I want to speak to you. I have . . .
+have . . . important news. . . ."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"News," repeated Almayer, distinctly. "News about your husband.
+Your husband! . . . Damn him!" he added, under his breath.
+
+He heard a stumbling rush inside. Things were overturned.
+Joanna's agitated voice cried--
+
+"News! What? What? I am coming out."
+
+"No," shouted Almayer. "Put on some clothes, Mrs. Willems, and
+let me in. It's . . . very confidential. You have a candle,
+haven't you?"
+
+She was knocking herself about blindly amongst the furniture in
+that room. The candlestick was upset. Matches were struck
+ineffectually. The matchbox fell. He heard her drop on her
+knees and grope over the floor while she kept on moaning in
+maddened distraction.
+
+"Oh, my God! News! Yes . . . yes. . . . Ah! where . . . where .
+. . candle. Oh, my God! . . . I can't find . . . Don't go
+away, for the love of Heaven . . ."
+
+"I don't want to go away," said Almayer, impatiently, through the
+keyhole; "but look sharp. It's coni . . . it's pressing."
+
+He stamped his foot lightly, waiting with his hand on the
+door-handle. He thought anxiously: The woman's a perfect idiot.
+Why should I go away? She will be off her head. She will never
+catch my meaning. She's too stupid.
+
+She was moving now inside the room hurriedly and in silence. He
+waited. There was a moment of perfect stillness in there, and
+then she spoke in an exhausted voice, in words that were shaped
+out of an expiring sigh--out of a sigh light and profound, like
+words breathed out by a woman before going off into a dead
+faint--
+
+"Come in."
+
+He pushed the door. Ali, coming through the passage with an
+armful of pillows and blankets pressed to his breast high up
+under his chin, caught sight of his master before the door closed
+behind him. He was so astonished that he dropped his bundle and
+stood staring at the door for a long time. He heard the voice of
+his master talking. Talking to that Sirani woman! Who was she?
+He had never thought about that really. He speculated for a
+while hazily upon things in general. She was a Sirani woman--and
+ugly. He made a disdainful grimace, picked up the bedding, and
+went about his work, slinging the hammock between two uprights of
+the verandah. . . . Those things did not concern him. She was
+ugly, and brought here by the Rajah Laut, and his master spoke to
+her in the night. Very well. He, Ali, had his work to do.
+Sling the hammock--go round and see that the watchmen were
+awake--take a look at the moorings of the boats, at the padlock
+of the big storehouse--then go to sleep. To sleep! He shivered
+pleasantly. He leaned with both arms over his master's hammock
+and fell into a light doze.
+
+A scream, unexpected, piercing--a scream beginning at once in the
+highest pitch of a woman's voice and then cut short, so short
+that it suggested the swift work of death--caused Ali to jump on
+one side away from the hammock, and the silence that succeeded
+seemed to him as startling as the awful shriek. He was
+thunderstruck with surprise. Almayer came out of the office,
+leaving the door ajar, passed close to his servant without taking
+any notice, and made straight for the water-chatty hung on a nail
+in a draughty place. He took it down and came back, missing the
+petrified Ali by an inch. He moved with long strides, yet,
+notwithstanding his haste, stopped short before the door, and,
+throwing his head back, poured a thin stream of water down his
+throat. While he came and went, while he stopped to drink, while
+he did all this, there came steadily from the dark room the sound
+of feeble and persistent crying, the crying of a sleepy and
+frightened child. After he had drunk, Almayer went in, closing
+the door carefully.
+
+Ali did not budge. That Sirani woman shrieked! He felt an
+immense curiosity very unusual to his stolid disposition. He
+could not take his eyes off the door. Was she dead in there?
+How interesting and funny! He stood with open mouth till he
+heard again the rattle of the door-handle. Master coming out.
+He pivoted on his heels with great rapidity and made believe to
+be absorbed in the contemplation of the night outside. He heard
+Almayer moving about behind his back. Chairs were displaced.
+His master sat down.
+
+"Ali," said Almayer.
+
+His face was gloomy and thoughtful. He looked at his head man,
+who had approached the table, then he pulled out his watch. It
+was going. Whenever Lingard was in Sambir Almayer's watch was
+going. He would set it by the cabin clock, telling himself every
+time that he must really keep that watch going for the future.
+And every time, when Lingard went away, he would let it run down
+and would measure his weariness by sunrises and sunsets in an
+apathetic indifference to mere hours; to hours only; to hours
+that had no importance in Sambir life, in the tired stagnation of
+empty days; when nothing mattered to him but the quality of
+guttah and the size of rattans; where there were no small hopes
+to be watched for; where to him there was nothing interesting,
+nothing supportable, nothing desirable to expect; nothing bitter
+but the slowness of the passing days; nothing sweet but the hope,
+the distant and glorious hope--the hope wearying, aching and
+precious, of getting away.
+
+He looked at the watch. Half-past eight. Ali waited stolidly.
+
+"Go to the settlement," said Almayer, "and tell Mahmat Banjer to
+come and speak to me to-night."
+
+Ali went off muttering. He did not like his errand. Banjer and
+his two brothers were Bajow vagabonds who had appeared lately in
+Sambir and had been allowed to take possession of a tumbledown
+abandoned hut, on three posts, belonging to Lingard & Co., and
+standing just outside their fence. Ali disapproved of the favour
+shown to those strangers. Any kind of dwelling was valuable in
+Sambir at that time, and if master did not want that old rotten
+house he might have given it to him, Ali, who was his servant,
+instead of bestowing it upon those bad men. Everybody knew they
+were bad. It was well known that they had stolen a boat from
+Hinopari, who was very aged and feeble and had no sons; and that
+afterwards, by the truculent recklessness of their demeanour,
+they had frightened the poor old man into holding his tongue
+about it. Yet everybody knew of it. It was one of the tolerated
+scandals of Sambir, disapproved and accepted, a manifestation of
+that base acquiescence in success, of that inexpressed and
+cowardly toleration of strength, that exists, infamous and
+irremediable, at the bottom of all hearts, in all societies;
+whenever men congregate; in bigger and more virtuous places than
+Sambir, and in Sambir also, where, as in other places, one man
+could steal a boat with impunity while another would have no
+right to look at a paddle.
+
+Almayer, leaning back in his chair, meditated. The more he
+thought, the more he felt convinced that Banjer and his brothers
+were exactly the men he wanted. Those fellows were sea gipsies,
+and could disappear without attracting notice; and if they
+returned, nobody--and Lingard least of all--would dream of
+seeking information from them. Moreover, they had no personal
+interest of any kind in Sambir affairs--had taken no sides--would
+know nothing anyway.
+
+He called in a strong voice: "Mrs. Willems!"
+
+She came out quickly, almost startling him, so much did she
+appear as though she had surged up through the floor, on the
+other side of the table. The lamp was between them, and Almayer
+moved it aside, looking up at her from his chair. She was
+crying. She was crying gently, silently, in a ceaseless welling
+up of tears that did not fall in drops, but seemed to overflow in
+a clear sheet from under her eyelids--seemed to flow at once all
+over her face, her cheeks, and over her chin that glistened with
+moisture in the light. Her breast and her shoulders were shaken
+repeatedly by a convulsive and noiseless catching in her breath,
+and after every spasmodic sob her sorrowful little head, tied up
+in a red kerchief, trembled on her long neck, round which her
+bony hand gathered and clasped the disarranged dress.
+
+"Compose yourself, Mrs. Willems," said Almayer.
+
+She emitted an inarticulate sound that seemed to be a faint, a
+very far off, a hardly audible cry of mortal distress. Then the
+tears went on flowing in profound stillness.
+
+"You must understand that I have told you all this because I am
+your friend--real friend," said Almayer, after looking at her for
+some time with visible dissatisfaction. "You, his wife, ought to
+know the danger he is in. Captain Lingard is a terrible man, you
+know."
+
+She blubbered out, sniffing and sobbing together.
+
+"Do you . . . you . . . speak . . . the . . . the truth now?"
+
+"Upon my word of honour. On the head of my child," protested
+Almayer. "I had to deceive you till now because of Captain
+Lingard. But I couldn't bear it. Think only what a risk I run
+in telling you--if ever Lingard was to know! Why should I do it?
+Pure friendship. Dear Peter was my colleague in Macassar for
+years, you know."
+
+"What shall I do . . . what shall I do!" she exclaimed, faintly,
+looking around on every side as if she could not make up her mind
+which way to rush off.
+
+"You must help him to clear out, now Lingard is away. He
+offended Lingard, and that's no joke. Lingard said he would kill
+him. He will do it, too," said Almayer, earnestly.
+
+She wrung her hands. "Oh! the wicked man. The wicked, wicked
+man!" she moaned, swaying her body from side to side.
+
+"Yes. Yes! He is terrible," assented Almayer. "You must not
+lose any time. I say! Do you understand me, Mrs. Willems?
+Think of your husband. Of your poor husband. How happy he will
+be. You will bring him his life--actually his life. Think of
+him."
+
+She ceased her swaying movement, and now, with her head sunk
+between her shoulders, she hugged herself with both her arms; and
+she stared at Almayer with wild eyes, while her teeth chattered,
+rattling violently and uninterruptedly, with a very loud sound,
+in the deep peace of the house.
+
+"Oh! Mother of God!" she wailed. "I am a miserable woman. Will
+he forgive me? The poor, innocent man. Will he forgive me? Oh,
+Mr. Almayer, he is so severe. Oh! help me. . . . I dare not. .
+. . You don't know what I've done to him. . . . I daren't! . . .
+I can't! . . . God help me!"
+
+The last words came in a despairing cry. Had she been flayed
+alive she could not have sent to heaven a more terrible, a more
+heartrending and anguished plaint.
+
+"Sh! Sh!" hissed Almayer, jumping up. "You will wake up
+everybody with your shouting."
+
+She kept on sobbing then without any noise, and Almayer stared at
+her in boundless astonishment. The idea that, maybe, he had done
+wrong by confiding in her, upset him so much that for a moment he
+could not find a connected thought in his head.
+
+At last he said: "I swear to you that your husband is in such a
+position that he would welcome the devil . . . listen well to me
+. . . the devil himself if the devil came to him in a canoe.
+Unless I am much mistaken,'' he added, under his breath. Then
+again, loudly: "If you have any little difference to make up with
+him, I assure you--I swear to you--this is your time!"
+
+The ardently persuasive tone of his words--he thought--would have
+carried irresistible conviction to a graven image. He noticed
+with satisfaction that Joanna seemed to have got some inkling of
+his meaning. He continued, speaking slowly--
+
+"Look here, Mrs. Willems. I can't do anything. Daren't. But I
+will tell you what I will do. There will come here in about ten
+minutes a Bugis man--you know the language; you are from
+Macassar. He has a large canoe; he can take you there. To the
+new Rajah's clearing, tell him. They are three brothers, ready
+for anything if you pay them . . . you have some money. Haven't
+you?"
+
+She stood--perhaps listening--but giving no sign of intelligence,
+and stared at the floor in sudden immobility, as if the horror of
+the situation, the overwhelming sense of her own wickedness and
+of her husband's great danger, had stunned her brain, her heart,
+her will--had left her no faculty but that of breathing and of
+keeping on her feet. Almayer swore to himself with much mental
+profanity that he had never seen a more useless, a more stupid
+being.
+
+"D'ye hear me?" he said, raising his voice. "Do try to
+understand. Have you any money? Money. Dollars. Guilders.
+Money! What's the matter with you?"
+
+Without raising her eyes she said, in a voice that sounded weak
+and undecided as if she had been making a desperate effort of
+memory--
+
+"The house has been sold. Mr. Hudig was angry."
+
+Almayer gripped the edge of the table with all his strength. He
+resisted manfully an almost uncontrollable impulse to fly at her
+and box her ears.
+
+"It was sold for money, I suppose," he said with studied and
+incisive calmness. "Have you got it? Who has got it?"
+
+She looked up at him, raising her swollen eyelids with a great
+effort, in a sorrowful expression of her drooping mouth, of her
+whole besmudged and tear-stained face. She whispered
+resignedly--
+
+"Leonard had some. He wanted to get married. And uncle Antonio;
+he sat at the door and would not go away. And Aghostina--she is
+so poor . . . and so many, many children--little children. And
+Luiz the engineer. He never said a word against my husband.
+Also our cousin Maria. She came and shouted, and my head was so
+bad, and my heart was worse. Then cousin Salvator and old Daniel
+da Souza, who . . ."
+
+Almayer had listened to her speechless with rage. He thought: I
+must give money now to that idiot. Must! Must get her out of
+the way now before Lingard is back. He made two attempts to
+speak before he managed to burst out--
+
+"I don't want to know their blasted names! Tell me, did all
+those infernal people leave you anything? To you! That's what I
+want to know!"
+
+"I have two hundred and fifteen dollars," said Joanna, in a
+frightened tone.
+
+Almayer breathed freely. He spoke with great friendliness--
+
+"That will do. It isn't much, but it will do. Now when the man
+comes I will be out of the way. You speak to him. Give him some
+money; only a little, mind! And promise more. Then when you get
+there you will be guided by your husband, of course. And don't
+forget to tell him that Captain Lingard is at the mouth of the
+river--the northern entrance. You will remember. Won't you?
+The northern branch. Lingard is--death."
+
+Joanna shivered. Almayer went on rapidly--
+
+"I would have given you money if you had wanted it. 'Pon my
+word! Tell your husband I've sent you to him. And tell him not
+to lose any time. And also say to him from me that we shall
+meet--some day. That I could not die happy unless I met him once
+more. Only once. I love him, you know. I prove it. Tremendous
+risk to me--this business is!"
+
+Joanna snatched his hand and before he knew what she would be at,
+pressed it to her lips.
+
+"Mrs. Willems! Don't. What are you . . ." cried the abashed
+Almayer, tearing his hand away.
+
+"Oh, you are good!" she cried, with sudden exaltation, "You are
+noble . . . I shall pray every day . . . to all the saints . . .
+I shall . . ."
+
+"Never mind . . . never mind!" stammered out Almayer, confusedly,
+without knowing very well what he was saying. "Only look out for
+Lingard. . . . I am happy to be able . . . in your sad situation
+. . . believe me. . . . "
+
+They stood with the table between them, Joanna looking down, and
+her face, in the half-light above the lamp, appeared like a
+soiled carving of old ivory--a carving, with accentuated anxious
+hollows, of old, very old ivory. Almayer looked at her,
+mistrustful, hopeful. He was saying to himself: How frail she
+is! I could upset her by blowing at her. She seems to have got
+some idea of what must be done, but will she have the strength to
+carry it through? I must trust to luck now!
+
+Somewhere far in the back courtyard Ali's voice rang suddenly in
+angry remonstrance--
+
+"Why did you shut the gate, O father of all mischief? You a
+watchman! You are only a wild man. Did I not tell you I was
+coming back? You . . ."
+
+"I am off, Mrs. Willems," exclaimed Almayer. "That man is
+here--with my servant. Be calm. Try to . . ."
+
+He heard the footsteps of the two men in the passage, and without
+finishing his sentence ran rapidly down the steps towards the
+riverside.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO
+
+For the next half-hour Almayer, who wanted to give Joanna plenty
+of time, stumbled amongst the lumber in distant parts of his
+enclosure, sneaked along the fences; or held his breath,
+flattened against grass walls behind various outhouses: all this
+to escape Ali's inconveniently zealous search for his master. He
+heard him talk with the head watchman--sometimes quite close to
+him in the darkness--then moving off, coming back, wondering,
+and, as the time passed, growing uneasy.
+
+"He did not fall into the river?--say, thou blind watcher!" Ali
+was growling in a bullying tone, to the other man. "He told me
+to fetch Mahmat, and when I came back swiftly I found him not in
+the house. There is that Sirani woman there, so that Mahmat
+cannot steal anything, but it is in my mind, the night will be
+half gone before I rest."
+
+He shouted--
+
+"Master! O master! O mast . . ."
+
+"What are you making that noise for?" said Almayer, with
+severity, stepping out close to them.
+
+The two Malays leaped away from each other in their surprise.
+
+"You may go. I don't want you any more tonight, Ali," went on
+Almayer. "Is Mahmat there?"
+
+"Unless the ill-behaved savage got tired of waiting. Those men
+know not politeness. They should not be spoken to by white men,"
+said Ali, resentfully.
+
+Almayer went towards the house, leaving his servants to wonder
+where he had sprung from so unexpectedly. The watchman hinted
+obscurely at powers of invisibility possessed by the master, who
+often at night . . . Ali interrupted him with great scorn. Not
+every white man has the power. Now, the Rajah Laut could make
+himself invisible. Also, he could be in two places at once, as
+everybody knew; except he--the useless watchman--who knew no more
+about white men than a wild pig! Ya-wa!
+
+And Ali strolled towards his hut, yawning loudly.
+
+As Almayer ascended the steps he heard the noise of a door flung
+to, and when he entered the verandah he saw only Mahmat there,
+close to the doorway of the passage. Mahmat seemed to be caught
+in the very act of slinking away, and Almayer noticed that with
+satisfaction. Seeing the white man, the Malay gave up his
+attempt and leaned against the wall. He was a short, thick,
+broad-shouldered man with very dark skin and a wide, stained,
+bright-red mouth that uncovered, when he spoke, a close row of
+black and glistening teeth. His eyes were big, prominent, dreamy
+and restless. He said sulkily, looking all over the place from
+under his eyebrows--
+
+"White Tuan, you are great and strong--and I a poor man. Tell me
+what is your will, and let me go in the name of God. It is
+late."
+
+Almayer examined the man thoughtfully. How could he find out
+whether . . . He had it! Lately he had employed that man and
+his two brothers as extra boatmen to carry stores, provisions,
+and new axes to a camp of rattan cutters some distance up the
+river. A three days' expedition. He would test him now in that
+way. He said negligently--
+
+"I want you to start at once for the camp, with surat for the
+Kavitan. One dollar a day."
+
+The man appeared plunged in dull hesitation, but Almayer, who
+knew his Malays, felt pretty sure from his aspect that nothing
+would induce the fellow to go. He urged--
+
+"It is important--and if you are swift I shall give two dollars
+for the last day."
+
+"No, Tuan. We do not go," said the man, in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"We start on another journey."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"To a place we know of," said Mahmat, a little louder, in a
+stubborn manner, and looking at the floor.
+
+Almayer experienced a feeling of immense joy. He said, with
+affected annoyance--
+
+"You men live in my house and it is as if it were your own. I
+may want my house soon."
+
+Mahmat looked up.
+
+"We are men of the sea and care not for a roof when we have a
+canoe that will hold three, and a paddle apiece. The sea is our
+house. Peace be with you, Tuan."
+
+He turned and went away rapidly, and Almayer heard him directly
+afterwards in the courtyard calling to the watchman to open the
+gate. Mahmat passed through the gate in silence, but before the
+bar had been put up behind him he had made up his mind that if
+the white man ever wanted to eject him from his hut, he would
+burn it and also as many of the white man's other buildings as he
+could safely get at. And he began to call his brothers before he
+was inside the dilapidated dwelling.
+
+"All's well!" muttered Almayer to himself, taking some loose Java
+tobacco from a drawer in the table. "Now if anything comes out I
+am clear. I asked the man to go up the river. I urged him. He
+will say so himself. Good."
+
+He began to charge the china bowl of his pipe, a pipe with a long
+cherry stem and a curved mouthpiece, pressing the tobacco down
+with his thumb and thinking: No. I sha'n't see her again.
+Don't want to. I will give her a good start, then go in
+chase--and send an express boat after father. Yes! that's it.
+
+He approached the door of the office and said, holding his pipe
+away from his lips--
+
+"Good luck to you, Mrs. Willems. Don't lose any time. You may
+get along by the bushes; the fence there is out of repair. Don't
+lose time. Don't forget that it is a matter of . . . life and
+death. And don't forget that I know nothing. I trust you."
+
+He heard inside a noise as of a chest-lid falling down. She made
+a few steps. Then a sigh, profound and long, and some faint
+words which he did not catch. He moved away from the door on
+tiptoe, kicked off his slippers in a corner of the verandah, then
+entered the passage puffing at his pipe; entered cautiously in a
+gentle creaking of planks and turned into a curtained entrance to
+the left. There was a big room. On the floor a small binnacle
+lamp--that had found its way to the house years ago from the
+lumber-room of the Flash--did duty for a night-light. It
+glimmered very small and dull in the great darkness. Almayer
+walked to it, and picking it up revived the flame by pulling the
+wick with his fingers, which he shook directly after with a
+grimace of pain. Sleeping shapes, covered--head and all--with
+white sheets, lay about on the mats on the floor. In the middle
+of the room a small cot, under a square white mosquito net,
+stood--the only piece of furniture between the four
+walls--looking like an altar of transparent marble in a gloomy
+temple. A woman, half-lying on the floor with her head dropped
+on her arms, which were crossed on the foot of the cot, woke up
+as Almayer strode over her outstretched legs. She sat up without
+a word, leaning forward, and, clasping her knees, stared down
+with sad eyes, full of sleep.
+
+Almayer, the smoky light in one hand, his pipe in the other,
+stood before the curtained cot looking at his daughter--at his
+little Nina--at that part of himself, at that small and
+unconscious particle of humanity that seemed to him to contain
+all his soul. And it was as if he had been bathed in a bright
+and warm wave of tenderness, in a tenderness greater than the
+world, more precious than life; the only thing real, living,
+sweet, tangible, beautiful and safe amongst the elusive, the
+distorted and menacing shadows of existence. On his face, lit up
+indistinctly by the short yellow flame of the lamp, came a look
+of rapt attention while he looked into her future. And he could
+see things there! Things charming and splendid passing before
+him in a magic unrolling of resplendent pictures; pictures of
+events brilliant, happy, inexpressibly glorious, that would make
+up her life. He would do it! He would do it. He would! He
+would--for that child! And as he stood in the still night, lost
+in his enchanting and gorgeous dreams, while the ascending, thin
+thread of tobacco smoke spread into a faint bluish cloud above
+his head, he appeared strangely impressive and ecstatic: like a
+devout and mystic worshipper, adoring, transported and mute;
+burning incense before a shrine, a diaphanous shrine of a
+child-idol with closed eyes; before a pure and vaporous shrine of
+a small god--fragile, powerless, unconscious and sleeping.
+
+When Ali, roused by loud and repeated shouting of his name,
+stumbled outside the door of his hut, he saw a narrow streak of
+trembling gold above the forests and a pale sky with faded stars
+overhead: signs of the coming day. His master stood before the
+door waving a piece of paper in his hand and shouting
+excitedly--"Quick, Ali! Quick!" When he saw his servant he
+rushed forward, and pressing the paper on him objurgated him, in
+tones which induced Ali to think that something awful had
+happened, to hurry up and get the whale-boat ready to go
+immediately--at once, at once--after Captain Lingard. Ali
+remonstrated, agitated also, having caught the infection of
+distracted haste.
+
+"If must go quick, better canoe. Whale-boat no can catch, same
+as small canoe."
+
+"No, no! Whale-boat! whale-boat! You dolt! you wretch!" howled
+Almayer, with all the appearance of having gone mad. "Call the
+men! Get along with it. Fly!"
+
+And Ali rushed about the courtyard kicking the doors of huts open
+to put his head in and yell frightfully inside; and as he dashed
+from hovel to hovel, men shivering and sleepy were coming out,
+looking after him stupidly, while they scratched their ribs with
+bewildered apathy. It was hard work to put them in motion. They
+wanted time to stretch themselves and to shiver a little. Some
+wanted food. One said he was sick. Nobody knew where the rudder
+was. Ali darted here and there, ordering, abusing, pushing one,
+then another, and stopping in his exertions at times to wring his
+hands hastily and groan, because the whale-boat was much slower
+than the worst canoe and his master would not listen to his
+protestations.
+
+Almayer saw the boat go off at last, pulled anyhow by men that
+were cold, hungry, and sulky; and he remained on the jetty
+watching it down the reach. It was broad day then, and the sky
+was perfectly cloudless. Almayer went up to the house for a
+moment. His household was all astir and wondering at the strange
+disappearance of the Sirani woman, who had taken her child and
+had left her luggage. Almayer spoke to no one, got his revolver,
+and went down to the river again. He jumped into a small canoe
+and paddled himself towards the schooner. He worked very
+leisurely, but as soon as he was nearly alongside he began to
+hail the silent craft with the tone and appearance of a man in a
+tremendous hurry.
+
+"Schooner ahoy! schooner ahoy!" he shouted.
+
+A row of blank faces popped up above the bulwark. After a while a
+man with a woolly head of hair said--
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"The mate! the mate! Call him, steward!" said Almayer,
+excitedly, making a frantic grab at a rope thrown down to him by
+somebody.
+
+In less than a minute the mate put his head over. He asked,
+surprised--
+
+"What can I do for you, Mr. Almayer?"
+
+"Let me have the gig at once, Mr. Swan--at once. I ask in
+Captain Lingard's name. I must have it. Matter of life and
+death."
+
+The mate was impressed by Almayer's agitation
+
+"You shall have it, sir. . . . Man the gig there! Bear a hand,
+serang! . . . It's hanging astern, Mr. Almayer," he said,
+looking down again. "Get into it, sir. The men are coming down
+by the painter."
+
+By the time Almayer had clambered over into the stern sheets,
+four calashes were in the boat and the oars were being passed
+over the taffrail. The mate was looking on. Suddenly he said--
+
+"Is it dangerous work? Do you want any help? I would come . . ."
+
+"Yes, yes!" cried Almayer. "Come along. Don't lose a moment.
+Go and get your revolver. Hurry up! hurry up!"
+
+Yet, notwithstanding his feverish anxiety to be off, he lolled
+back very quiet and unconcerned till the mate got in and, passing
+over the thwarts, sat down by his side. Then he seemed to wake
+up, and called out--
+
+"Let go--let go the painter!"
+
+"Let go the painter--the painter!" yelled the bowman, jerking at
+it.
+
+People on board also shouted "Let go!" to one another, till it
+occurred at last to somebody to cast off the rope; and the boat
+drifted rapidly away from the schooner in the sudden silencing of
+all voices.
+
+Almayer steered. The mate sat by his side, pushing the
+cartridges into the chambers of his revolver. When the weapon was
+loaded he asked--
+
+"What is it? Are you after somebody?"
+
+"Yes," said Almayer, curtly, with his eyes fixed ahead on the
+river. "We must catch a dangerous man."
+
+"I like a bit of a chase myself," declared the mate, and then,
+discouraged by Almayer's aspect of severe thoughtfulness, said
+nothing more.
+
+Nearly an hour passed. The calashes stretched forward head first
+and lay back with their faces to the sky, alternately, in a
+regular swing that sent the boat flying through the water; and
+the two sitters, very upright in the stern sheets, swayed
+rhythmically a little at every stroke of the long oars plied
+vigorously.
+
+The mate observed: "The tide is with us."
+
+"The current always runs down in this river," said Almayer.
+
+"Yes--I know," retorted the other; "but it runs faster on the
+ebb. Look by the land at the way we get over the ground! A
+five-knot current here, I should say."
+
+"H'm!" growled Almayer. Then suddenly: "There is a passage
+between two islands that will save us four miles. But at low
+water the two islands, in the dry season, are like one with only
+a mud ditch between them. Still, it's worth trying."
+
+"Ticklish job that, on a falling tide," said the mate, coolly.
+"You know best whether there's time to get through."
+
+"I will try," said Almayer, watching the shore intently. "Look
+out now!"
+
+He tugged hard at the starboard yoke-line.
+
+"Lay in your oars!" shouted the mate.
+
+The boat swept round and shot through the narrow opening of a
+creek that broadened out before the craft had time to lose its
+way.
+
+"Out oars! . . . Just room enough," muttered the mate.
+
+It was a sombre creek of black water speckled with the gold of
+scattered sunlight falling through the boughs that met overhead
+in a soaring, restless arc full of gentle whispers passing,
+tremulous, aloft amongst the thick leaves. The creepers climbed
+up the trunks of serried trees that leaned over, looking insecure
+and undermined by floods which had eaten away the earth from
+under their roots. And the pungent, acrid smell of rotting
+leaves, of flowers, of blossoms and plants dying in that
+poisonous and cruel gloom, where they pined for sunshine in vain,
+seemed to lay heavy, to press upon the shiny and stagnant water
+in its tortuous windings amongst the everlasting and invincible
+shadows.
+
+Almayer looked anxious. He steered badly. Several times the
+blades of the oars got foul of the bushes on one side or the
+other, checking the way of the gig. During one of those
+occurrences, while they were getting clear, one of the calashes
+said something to the others in a rapid whisper. They looked
+down at the water. So did the mate.
+
+ "Hallo!" he exclaimed. "Eh, Mr. Almayer! Look! The water is
+running out. See there! We will be caught."
+
+"Back! back! We must go back!" cried Almayer.
+
+"Perhaps better go on."
+
+"No; back! back!"
+
+He pulled at the steering line, and ran the nose of the boat into
+the bank. Time was lost again in getting clear.
+
+"Give way, men! give way!" urged the mate, anxiously.
+
+The men pulled with set lips and dilated nostrils, breathing
+hard.
+
+"Too late," said the mate, suddenly. "The oars touch the bottom
+already. We are done."
+
+The boat stuck. The men laid in the oars, and sat, panting, with
+crossed arms.
+
+"Yes, we are caught," said Almayer, composedly. "That is
+unlucky!"
+
+The water was falling round the boat. The mate watched the
+patches of mud coming to the surface. Then in a moment he
+laughed, and pointing his finger at the creek--
+
+"Look!" he said; "the blamed river is running away from us.
+Here's the last drop of water clearing out round that bend."
+
+Almayer lifted his head. The water was gone, and he looked only
+at a curved track of mud--of mud soft and black, hiding fever,
+rottenness, and evil under its level and glazed surface.
+
+"We are in for it till the evening," he said, with cheerful
+resignation. "I did my best. Couldn't help it."
+
+"We must sleep the day away," said the mate. "There's nothing to
+eat," he added, gloomily.
+
+Almayer stretched himself in the stern sheets. The Malays curled
+down between thwarts.
+
+"Well, I'm jiggered!" said the mate, starting up after a long
+pause. "I was in a devil of a hurry to go and pass the day stuck
+in the mud. Here's a holiday for you! Well! well!"
+
+They slept or sat unmoving and patient. As the sun mounted
+higher the breeze died out, and perfect stillness reigned in the
+empty creek. A troop of long-nosed monkeys appeared, and
+crowding on the outer boughs, contemplated the boat and the
+motionless men in it with grave and sorrowful intensity,
+disturbed now and then by irrational outbreaks of mad
+gesticulation. A little bird with sapphire breast balanced a
+slender twig across a slanting beam of light, and flashed in it
+to and fro like a gem dropped from the sky. His minute round eye
+stared at the strange and tranquil creatures in the boat. After
+a while he sent out a thin twitter that sounded impertinent and
+funny in the solemn silence of the great wilderness; in the great
+silence full of struggle and death.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE
+
+On Lingard's departure solitude and silence closed round Willems;
+the cruel solitude of one abandoned by men; the reproachful
+silence which surrounds an outcast ejected by his kind, the
+silence unbroken by the slightest whisper of hope; an immense and
+impenetrable silence that swallows up without echo the murmur of
+regret and the cry of revolt. The bitter peace of the abandoned
+clearings entered his heart, in which nothing could live now but
+the memory and hate of his past. Not remorse. In the breast of
+a man possessed by the masterful consciousness of his
+individuality with its desires and its rights; by the immovable
+conviction of his own importance, of an importance so
+indisputable and final that it clothes all his wishes,
+endeavours, and mistakes with the dignity of unavoidable fate,
+there could be no place for such a feeling as that of remorse.
+
+The days passed. They passed unnoticed, unseen, in the rapid
+blaze of glaring sunrises, in the short glow of tender sunsets,
+in the crushing oppression of high noons without a cloud. How
+many days? Two--three--or more? He did not know. To him, since
+Lingard had gone, the time seemed to roll on in profound
+darkness. All was night within him. All was gone from his
+sight. He walked about blindly in the deserted courtyards,
+amongst the empty houses that, perched high on their posts,
+looked down inimically on him, a white stranger, a man from other
+lands; seemed to look hostile and mute out of all the memories of
+native life that lingered between their decaying walls. His
+wandering feet stumbled against the blackened brands of extinct
+fires, kicking up a light black dust of cold ashes that flew in
+drifting clouds and settled to leeward on the fresh grass
+sprouting from the hard ground, between the shade trees. He
+moved on, and on; ceaseless, unresting, in widening circles, in
+zigzagging paths that led to no issue; he struggled on wearily
+with a set, distressed face behind which, in his tired brain,
+seethed his thoughts: restless, sombre, tangled, chilling,
+horrible and venomous, like a nestful of snakes.
+
+From afar, the bleared eyes of the old serving woman, the sombre
+gaze of Aissa followed the gaunt and tottering figure in its
+unceasing prowl along the fences, between the houses, amongst the
+wild luxuriance of riverside thickets. Those three human beings
+abandoned by all were like shipwrecked people left on an insecure
+and slippery ledge by the retiring tide of an angry
+sea--listening to its distant roar, living anguished between the
+menace of its return and the hopeless horror of their
+solitude--in the midst of a tempest of passion, of regret, of
+disgust, of despair. The breath of the storm had cast two of
+them there, robbed of everything--even of resignation. The
+third, the decrepit witness of their struggle and their torture,
+accepted her own dull conception of facts; of strength and youth
+gone; of her useless old age; of her last servitude; of being
+thrown away by her chief, by her nearest, to use up the last and
+worthless remnant of flickering life between those two
+incomprehensible and sombre outcasts: a shrivelled, an unmoved, a
+passive companion of their disaster.
+
+To the river Willems turned his eyes like a captive that looks
+fixedly at the door of his cell. If there was any hope in the
+world it would come from the river, by the river. For hours
+together he would stand in sunlight while the sea breeze sweeping
+over the lonely reach fluttered his ragged garments; the keen
+salt breeze that made him shiver now and then under the flood of
+intense heat. He looked at the brown and sparkling solitude of
+the flowing water, of the water flowing ceaseless and free in a
+soft, cool murmur of ripples at his feet. The world seemed to
+end there. The forests of the other bank appeared unattainable,
+enigmatical, for ever beyond reach like the stars of heaven--and
+as indifferent. Above and below, the forests on his side of the
+river came down to the water in a serried multitude of tall,
+immense trees towering in a great spread of twisted boughs above
+the thick undergrowth; great, solid trees, looking sombre,
+severe, and malevolently stolid, like a giant crowd of pitiless
+enemies pressing round silently to witness his slow agony. He
+was alone, small, crushed. He thought of escape--of something to
+be done. What? A raft! He imagined himself working at it,
+feverishly, desperately; cutting down trees, fastening the logs
+together and then drifting down with the current, down to the sea
+into the straits. There were ships there--ships, help, white
+men. Men like himself. Good men who would rescue him, take him
+away, take him far away where there was trade, and houses, and
+other men that could understand him exactly, appreciate his
+capabilities; where there was proper food, and money; where there
+were beds, knives, forks, carriages, brass bands, cool drinks,
+churches with well-dressed people praying in them. He would pray
+also. The superior land of refined delights where he could sit
+on a chair, eat his tiffin off a white tablecloth, nod to
+fellows--good fellows; he would be popular; always was--where he
+could be virtuous, correct, do business, draw a salary, smoke
+cigars, buy things in shops--have boots . . . be happy, free,
+become rich. O God! What was wanted? Cut down a few trees.
+No! One would do. They used to make canoes by burning out a
+tree trunk, he had heard. Yes! One would do. One tree to cut
+down . . . He rushed forward, and suddenly stood still as if
+rooted in the ground. He had a pocket-knife.
+
+And he would throw himself down on the ground by the riverside.
+He was tired, exhausted; as if that raft had been made, the
+voyage accomplished, the fortune attained. A glaze came over his
+staring eyes, over his eyes that gazed hopelessly at the rising
+river where big logs and uprooted trees drifted in the shine of
+mid-stream: a long procession of black and ragged specks. He
+could swim out and drift away on one of these trees. Anything to
+escape! Anything! Any risk! He could fasten himself up between
+the dead branches. He was torn by desire, by fear; his heart was
+wrung by the faltering of his courage. He turned over, face
+downwards, his head on his arms. He had a terrible vision of
+shadowless horizons where the blue sky and the blue sea met; or a
+circular and blazing emptiness where a dead tree and a dead man
+drifted together, endlessly, up and down, upon the brilliant
+undulations of the straits. No ships there. Only death. And
+the river led to it.
+
+He sat up with a profound groan.
+
+Yes, death. Why should he die? No! Better solitude, better
+hopeless waiting, alone. Alone. No! he was not alone, he saw
+death looking at him from everywhere; from the bushes, from the
+clouds--he heard her speaking to him in the murmur of the river,
+filling the space, touching his heart, his brain with a cold
+hand. He could see and think of nothing else. He saw it--the
+sure death--everywhere. He saw it so close that he was always on
+the point of throwing out his arms to keep it off. It poisoned
+all he saw, all he did; the miserable food he ate, the muddy
+water he drank; it gave a frightful aspect to sunrises and
+sunsets, to the brightness of hot noon, to the cooling shadows of
+the evenings. He saw the horrible form among the big trees, in
+the network of creepers in the fantastic outlines of leaves, of
+the great indented leaves that seemed to be so many enormous
+hands with big broad palms, with stiff fingers outspread to lay
+hold of him; hands gently stirring, or hands arrested in a
+frightful immobility, with a stillness attentive and watching for
+the opportunity to take him, to enlace him, to strangle him, to
+hold him till he died; hands that would hold him dead, that would
+never let go, that would cling to his body for ever till it
+perished--disappeared in their frantic and tenacious grasp.
+
+And yet the world was full of life. All the things, all the men
+he knew, existed, moved, breathed; and he saw them in a long
+perspective, far off, diminished, distinct, desirable,
+unattainable, precious . . . lost for ever. Round him,
+ceaselessly, there went on without a sound the mad turmoil of
+tropical life. After he had died all this would remain! He
+wanted to clasp, to embrace solid things; he had an immense
+craving for sensations; for touching, pressing, seeing, handling,
+holding on, to all these things. All this would remain--remain
+for years, for ages, for ever. After he had miserably died
+there, all this would remain, would live, would exist in joyous
+sunlight, would breathe in the coolness of serene nights. What
+for, then? He would be dead. He would be stretched upon the
+warm moisture of the ground, feeling nothing, seeing nothing,
+knowing nothing; he would lie stiff, passive, rotting slowly;
+while over him, under him, through him--unopposed, busy,
+hurried--the endless and minute throngs of insects, little
+shining monsters of repulsive shapes, with horns, with claws,
+with pincers, would swarm in streams, in rushes, in eager
+struggle for his body; would swarm countless, persistent,
+ferocious and greedy--till there would remain nothing but the
+white gleam of bleaching bones in the long grass; in the long
+grass that would shoot its feathery heads between the bare and
+polished ribs. There would be that only left of him; nobody
+would miss him; no one would remember him.
+
+Nonsense! It could not be. There were ways out of this.
+Somebody would turn up. Some human beings would come. He would
+speak, entreat--use force to extort help from them. He felt
+strong; he was very strong. He would . . . The discouragement,
+the conviction of the futility of his hopes would return in an
+acute sensation of pain in his heart. He would begin again his
+aimless wanderings. He tramped till he was ready to drop,
+without being able to calm by bodily fatigue the trouble of his
+soul. There was no rest, no peace within the cleared grounds of
+his prison. There was no relief but in the black release of
+sleep, of sleep without memory and without dreams; in the sleep
+coming brutal and heavy, like the lead that kills. To forget in
+annihilating sleep; to tumble headlong, as if stunned, out of
+daylight into the night of oblivion, was for him the only, the
+rare respite from this existence which he lacked the courage to
+endure--or to end.
+
+He lived, he struggled with the inarticulate delirium of his
+thoughts under the eyes of the silent Aissa. She shared his
+torment in the poignant wonder, in the acute longing, in the
+despairing inability to understand the cause of his anger and of
+his repulsion; the hate of his looks; the mystery of his silence;
+the menace of his rare words--of those words in the speech of
+white people that were thrown at her with rage, with contempt,
+with the evident desire to hurt her; to hurt her who had given
+herself, her life--all she had to give--to that white man; to
+hurt her who had wanted to show him the way to true greatness,
+who had tried to help him, in her woman's dream of everlasting,
+enduring, unchangeable affection. From the short contact with
+the whites in the crashing collapse of her old life, there
+remained with her the imposing idea of irresistible power and of
+ruthless strength. She had found a man of their race--and with
+all their qualities. All whites are alike. But this man's heart
+was full of anger against his own people, full of anger existing
+there by the side of his desire of her. And to her it had been
+an intoxication of hope for great things born in the proud and
+tender consciousness of her influence. She had heard the passing
+whisper of wonder and fear in the presence of his hesitation, of
+his resistance, of his compromises; and yet with a woman's belief
+in the durable steadfastness of hearts, in the irresistible charm
+of her own personality, she had pushed him forward, trusting the
+future, blindly, hopefully; sure to attain by his side the ardent
+desire of her life, if she could only push him far beyond the
+possibility of retreat. She did not know, and could not
+conceive, anything of his--so exalted--ideals. She thought the
+man a warrior and a chief, ready for battle, violence, and
+treachery to his own people--for her. What more natural? Was he
+not a great, strong man? Those two, surrounded each by the
+impenetrable wall of their aspirations, were hopelessly alone,
+out of sight, out of earshot of each other; each the centre of
+dissimilar and distant horizons; standing each on a different
+earth, under a different sky. She remembered his words, his
+eyes, his trembling lips, his outstretched hands; she remembered
+the great, the immeasurable sweetness of her surrender, that
+beginning of her power which was to last until death. He
+remembered the quaysides and the warehouses; the excitement of a
+life in a whirl of silver coins; the glorious uncertainty of a
+money hunt; his numerous successes, the lost possibilities of
+wealth and consequent glory. She, a woman, was the victim of her
+heart, of her woman's belief that there is nothing in the world
+but love--the everlasting thing. He was the victim of his
+strange principles, of his continence, of his blind belief in
+himself, of his solemn veneration for the voice of his boundless
+ignorance.
+
+In a moment of his idleness, of suspense, of discouragement, she
+had come--that creature--and by the touch of her hand had
+destroyed his future, his dignity of a clever and civilized man;
+had awakened in his breast the infamous thing which had driven
+him to what he had done, and to end miserably in the wilderness
+and be forgotten, or else remembered with hate or contempt. He
+dared not look at her, because now whenever he looked at her his
+thought seemed to touch crime, like an outstretched hand. She
+could only look at him--and at nothing else. What else was
+there? She followed him with a timorous gaze, with a gaze for
+ever expecting, patient, and entreating. And in her eyes there
+was the wonder and desolation of an animal that knows only
+suffering, of the incomplete soul that knows pain but knows not
+hope; that can find no refuge from the facts of life in the
+illusory conviction of its dignity, of an exalted destiny beyond;
+in the heavenly consolation of a belief in the momentous origin
+of its hate.
+
+For the first three days after Lingard went away he would not
+even speak to her. She preferred his silence to the sound of
+hated and incomprehensible words he had been lately addressing to
+her with a wild violence of manner, passing at once into complete
+apathy. And during these three days he hardly ever left the
+river, as if on that muddy bank he had felt himself nearer to his
+freedom. He would stay late; he would stay till sunset; he would
+look at the glow of gold passing away amongst sombre clouds in a
+bright red flush, like a splash of warm blood. It seemed to him
+ominous and ghastly with a foreboding of violent death that
+beckoned him from everywhere--even from the sky.
+
+One evening he remained by the riverside long after sunset,
+regardless of the night mist that had closed round him, had
+wrapped him up and clung to him like a wet winding-sheet. A
+slight shiver recalled him to his senses, and he walked up the
+courtyard towards his house. Aissa rose from before the fire,
+that glimmered red through its own smoke, which hung thickening
+under the boughs of the big tree. She approached him from the
+side as he neared the plankway of the house. He saw her stop to
+let him begin his ascent. In the darkness her figure was like
+the shadow of a woman with clasped hands put out beseechingly. He
+stopped--could not help glancing at her. In all the sombre
+gracefulness of the straight figure, her limbs, features--all was
+indistinct and vague but the gleam of her eyes in the faint
+starlight. He turned his head away and moved on. He could feel
+her footsteps behind him on the bending planks, but he walked up
+without turning his head. He knew what she wanted. She wanted
+to come in there. He shuddered at the thought of what might
+happen in the impenetrable darkness of that house if they were to
+find themselves alone--even for a moment. He stopped in the
+doorway, and heard her say--
+
+"Let me come in. Why this anger? Why this silence? . . . Let
+me watch . . by your side. . . . Have I not watched faithfully?
+Did harm ever come to you when you closed your eyes while I was
+by? . . . I have waited . . . I have waited for your smile, for
+your words . . . I can wait no more. . . . Look at me . . .
+speak to me. Is there a bad spirit in you? A bad spirit that
+has eaten up your courage and your love? Let me touch you.
+Forget all . . . All. Forget the wicked hearts, the angry faces
+. . . and remember only the day I came to you . . . to you! O my
+heart! O my life!"
+
+The pleading sadness of her appeal filled the space with the
+tremor of her low tones, that carried tenderness and tears into
+the great peace of the sleeping world. All around them the
+forests, the clearings, the river, covered by the silent veil of
+night, seemed to wake up and listen to her words in attentive
+stillness. After the sound of her voice had died out in a
+stifled sigh they appeared to listen yet; and nothing stirred
+among the shapeless shadows but the innumerable fireflies that
+twinkled in changing clusters, in gliding pairs, in wandering and
+solitary points--like the glimmering drift of scattered
+star-dust.
+
+Willems turned round slowly, reluctantly, as if compelled by main
+force. Her face was hidden in her hands, and he looked above her
+bent head, into the sombre brilliance of the night. It was one
+of those nights that give the impression of extreme vastness,
+when the sky seems higher, when the passing puffs of tepid breeze
+seem to bring with them faint whispers from beyond the stars.
+The air was full of sweet scent, of the scent charming,
+penetrating. and violent like the impulse of love. He looked
+into that great dark place odorous with the breath of life, with
+the mystery of existence, renewed, fecund, indestructible; and he
+felt afraid of his solitude, of the solitude of his body, of the
+loneliness of his soul in the presence of this unconscious and
+ardent struggle, of this lofty indifference, of this merciless
+and mysterious purpose, perpetuating strife and death through the
+march of ages. For the second time in his life he felt, in a
+sudden sense of his significance, the need to send a cry for help
+into the wilderness, and for the second time he realized the
+hopelessness of its unconcern. He could shout for help on every
+side--and nobody would answer. He could stretch out his hands,
+he could call for aid, for support, for sympathy, for relief--and
+nobody would come. Nobody. There was no one there--but that
+woman.
+
+His heart was moved, softened with pity at his own abandonment.
+His anger against her, against her who was the cause of all his
+misfortunes, vanished before his extreme need for some kind of
+consolation. Perhaps--if he must resign himself to his fate--she
+might help him to forget. To forget! For a moment, in an access
+of despair so profound that it seemed like the beginning of
+peace, he planned the deliberate descent from his pedestal, the
+throwing away of his superiority, of all his hopes, of old
+ambitions, of the ungrateful civilization. For a moment,
+forgetfulness in her arms seemed possible; and lured by that
+possibility the semblance of renewed desire possessed his breast
+in a burst of reckless contempt for everything outside
+himself--in a savage disdain of Earth and of Heaven. He said to
+himself that he would not repent. The punishment for his only
+sin was too heavy. There was no mercy under Heaven. He did not
+want any. He thought, desperately, that if he could find with
+her again the madness of the past, the strange delirium that had
+changed him, that had worked his undoing, he would be ready to
+pay for it with an eternity of perdition. He was intoxicated by
+the subtle perfumes of the night; he was carried away by the
+suggestive stir of the warm breeze; he was possessed by the
+exaltation of the solitude, of the silence, of his memories, in
+the presence of that figure offering herself in a submissive and
+patient devotion; coming to him in the name of the past, in the
+name of those days when he could see nothing, think of nothing,
+desire nothing--but her embrace.
+
+He took her suddenly in his arms, and she clasped her hands round
+his neck with a low cry of joy and surprise. He took her in his
+arms and waited for the transport, for the madness, for the
+sensations remembered and lost; and while she sobbed gently on
+his breast he held her and felt cold, sick, tired, exasperated
+with his failure--and ended by cursing himself. She clung to him
+trembling with the intensity of her happiness and her love. He
+heard her whispering--her face hidden on his shoulder--of past
+sorrow, of coming joy that would last for ever; of her unshaken
+belief in his love. She had always believed. Always! Even
+while his face was turned away from her in the dark days while
+his mind was wandering in his own land, amongst his own people.
+But it would never wander away from her any more, now it had come
+back. He would forget the cold faces and the hard hearts of the
+cruel people. What was there to remember? Nothing? Was it not
+so? . . .
+
+He listened hopelessly to the faint murmur. He stood still and
+rigid, pressing her mechanically to his breast while he thought
+that there was nothing for him in the world. He was robbed of
+everything; robbed of his passion, of his liberty, of
+forgetfulness, of consolation. She, wild with delight, whispered
+on rapidly, of love, of light, of peace, of long years. . . . He
+looked drearily above her head down into the deeper gloom of the
+courtyard. And, all at once, it seemed to him that he was
+peering into a sombre hollow, into a deep black hole full of
+decay and of whitened bones; into an immense and inevitable grave
+full of corruption where sooner or later he must, unavoidably,
+fall.
+
+In the morning he came out early, and stood for a time in the
+doorway, listening to the light breathing behind him--in the
+house. She slept. He had not closed his eyes through all that
+night. He stood swaying--then leaned against the lintel of the
+door. He was exhausted, done up; fancied himself hardly alive.
+He had a disgusted horror of himself that, as he looked at the
+level sea of mist at his feet, faded quickly into dull
+indifference. It was like a sudden and final decrepitude of his
+senses, of his body, of his thoughts. Standing on the high
+platform, he looked over the expanse of low night fog above
+which, here and there, stood out the feathery heads of tall
+bamboo clumps and the round tops of single trees, resembling
+small islets emerging black and solid from a ghostly and
+impalpable sea. Upon the faintly luminous background of the
+eastern sky, the sombre line of the great forests bounded that
+smooth sea of white vapours with an appearance of a fantastic and
+unattainable shore.
+
+He looked without seeing anything--thinking of himself. Before
+his eyes the light of the rising sun burst above the forest with
+the suddenness of an explosion. He saw nothing. Then, after a
+time, he murmured with conviction--speaking half aloud to himself
+in the shock of the penetrating thought:
+
+"I am a lost man."
+
+He shook his hand above his head in a gesture careless and
+tragic, then walked down into the mist that closed above him in
+shining undulations under the first breath of the morning breeze.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR
+
+Willems moved languidly towards the river, then retraced his
+steps to the tree and let himself fall on the seat under its
+shade. On the other side of the immense trunk he could hear the
+old woman moving about, sighing loudly, muttering to herself,
+snapping dry sticks, blowing up the fire. After a while a whiff
+of smoke drifted round to where he sat. It made him feel hungry,
+and that feeling was like a new indignity added to an intolerable
+load of humiliations. He felt inclined to cry. He felt very
+weak. He held up his arm before his eyes and watched for a
+little while the trembling of the lean limb. Skin and bone, by
+God! How thin he was! . . . He had suffered from fever a good
+deal, and now he thought with tearful dismay that Lingard,
+although he had sent him food--and what food, great Lord: a
+little rice and dried fish; quite unfit for a white man--had not
+sent him any medicine. Did the old savage think that he was like
+the wild beasts that are never ill? He wanted quinine.
+
+He leaned the back of his head against the tree and closed his
+eyes. He thought feebly that if he could get hold of Lingard he
+would like to flay him alive; but it was only a blurred, a short
+and a passing thought. His imagination, exhausted by the repeated
+delineations of his own fate, had not enough strength left to
+grip the idea of revenge. He was not indignant and rebellious.
+He was cowed. He was cowed by the immense cataclysm of his
+disaster. Like most men, he had carried solemnly within his
+breast the whole universe, and the approaching end of all things
+in the destruction of his own personality filled him with
+paralyzing awe. Everything was toppling over. He blinked his
+eyes quickly, and it seemed to him that the very sunshine of the
+morning disclosed in its brightness a suggestion of some hidden
+and sinister meaning. In his unreasoning fear he tried to hide
+within himself. He drew his feet up, his head sank between his
+shoulders, his arms hugged his sides. Under the high and
+enormous tree soaring superbly out of the mist in a vigorous
+spread of lofty boughs, with a restless and eager flutter of its
+innumerable leaves in the clear sunshine, he remained motionless,
+huddled up on his seat: terrified and still.
+
+Willems' gaze roamed over the ground, and then he watched with
+idiotic fixity half a dozen black ants entering courageously a
+tuft of long grass which, to them, must have appeared a dark and
+a dangerous jungle. Suddenly he thought: There must be something
+dead in there. Some dead insect. Death everywhere! He closed
+his eyes again in an access of trembling pain. Death
+everywhere--wherever one looks. He did not want to see the ants.
+He did not want to see anybody or anything. He sat in the
+darkness of his own making, reflecting bitterly that there was no
+peace for him. He heard voices now. . . . Illusion! Misery!
+Torment! Who would come? Who would speak to him? What business
+had he to hear voices? . . . yet he heard them faintly, from the
+river. Faintly, as if shouted far off over there, came the words
+"We come back soon." . . . Delirium and mockery! Who would come
+back? Nobody ever comes back! Fever comes back. He had it on
+him this morning. That was it. . . . He heard unexpectedly the
+old woman muttering something near by. She had come round to his
+side of the tree. He opened his eyes and saw her bent back
+before him. She stood, with her hand shading her eyes, looking
+towards the landing-place. Then she glided away. She had
+seen--and now she was going back to her cooking; a woman
+incurious; expecting nothing; without fear and without hope.
+
+She had gone back behind the tree, and now Willems could see a
+human figure on the path to the landing-place. It appeared to
+him to be a woman, in a red gown, holding some heavy bundle in
+her arms; it was an apparition unexpected, familiar and odd. He
+cursed through his teeth . . . It had wanted only this! See
+things like that in broad daylight! He was very bad--very bad. .
+. . He was horribly scared at this awful symptom of the
+desperate state of his health.
+
+This scare lasted for the space of a flash of lightning, and in
+the next moment it was revealed to him that the woman was real;
+that she was coming towards him; that she was his wife! He put
+his feet down to the ground quickly, but made no other movement.
+His eyes opened wide. He was so amazed that for a time he
+absolutely forgot his own existence. The only idea in his head
+was: Why on earth did she come here?
+
+Joanna was coming up the courtyard with eager, hurried steps.
+She carried in her arms the child, wrapped up in one of Almayer's
+white blankets that she had snatched off the bed at the last
+moment, before leaving the house. She seemed to be dazed by the
+sun in her eyes; bewildered by her strange surroundings. She
+moved on, looking quickly right and left in impatient expectation
+of seeing her husband at any moment. Then, approaching the tree,
+she perceived suddenly a kind of a dried-up, yellow corpse,
+sitting very stiff on a bench in the shade and looking at her
+with big eyes that were alive. That was her husband.
+
+She stopped dead short. They stared at one another in profound
+stillness, with astounded eyes, with eyes maddened by the
+memories of things far off that seemed lost in the lapse of time.
+Their looks crossed, passed each other, and appeared to dart at
+them through fantastic distances, to come straight from the
+incredible.
+
+Looking at him steadily she came nearer, and deposited the
+blanket with the child in it on the bench. Little Louis, after
+howling with terror in the darkness of the river most of the
+night, now slept soundly and did not wake. Willems' eyes
+followed his wife, his head turning slowly after her. He
+accepted her presence there with a tired acquiescence in its
+fabulous improbability. Anything might happen. What did she
+come for? She was part of the general scheme of his misfortune.
+He half expected that she would rush at him, pull his hair, and
+scratch his face. Why not? Anything might happen! In an
+exaggerated sense of his great bodily weakness he felt somewhat
+apprehensive of possible assault. At any rate, she would scream
+at him. He knew her of old. She could screech. He had thought
+that he was rid of her for ever. She came now probably to see
+the end. . . .
+
+Suddenly she turned, and embracing him slid gently to the ground.
+
+This startled him. With her forehead on his knees she sobbed
+noiselessly. He looked down dismally at the top of her head.
+What was she up to? He had not the strength to move--to get
+away. He heard her whispering something, and bent over to
+listen. He caught the word "Forgive."
+
+That was what she came for! All that way. Women are queer.
+Forgive. Not he! . . . All at once this thought darted through
+his brain: How did she come? In a boat. Boat! boat!
+
+He shouted "Boat!" and jumped up, knocking her over. Before she
+had time to pick herself up he pounced upon her and was dragging
+her up by the shoulders. No sooner had she regained her feet
+than she clasped him tightly round the neck, covering his face,
+his eyes, his mouth, his nose with desperate kisses. He dodged
+his head about, shaking her arms, trying to keep her off, to
+speak, to ask her. . . . She came in a boat, boat, boat! . . .
+They struggled and swung round, tramping in a semicircle. He
+blurted out, "Leave off. Listen," while he tore at her hands.
+This meeting of lawful love and sincere joy resembled fight.
+Louis Willems slept peacefully under his blanket.
+
+At last Willems managed to free himself, and held her off,
+pressing her arms down. He looked at her. He had half a
+suspicion that he was dreaming. Her lips trembled; her eyes
+wandered unsteadily, always coming back to his face. He saw her
+the same as ever, in his presence. She appeared startled,
+tremulous, ready to cry. She did not inspire him with
+confidence. He shouted--
+
+"How did you come?"
+
+She answered in hurried words, looking at him intently--
+
+"In a big canoe with three men. I know everything. Lingard's
+away. I come to save you. I know. . . . Almayer told me."
+
+"Canoe!--Almayer--Lies. Told you--You!" stammered Willems in a
+distracted manner. "Why you?--Told what?"
+
+Words failed him. He stared at his wife, thinking with fear that
+she--stupid woman--had been made a tool in some plan of treachery
+. . . in some deadly plot.
+
+She began to cry--
+
+"Don't look at me like that, Peter. What have I done? I come to
+beg--to beg--forgiveness. . . . Save--Lingard--danger."
+
+He trembled with impatience, with hope, with fear. She looked at
+him and sobbed out in a fresh outburst of grief--
+
+"Oh! Peter. What's the matter?--Are you ill? . . . Oh! you look
+so ill . . ."
+
+He shook her violently into a terrified and wondering silence.
+
+"How dare you!--I am well--perfectly well. . . . Where's that
+boat? Will you tell me where that boat is--at last? The boat, I
+say . . . You! . . ."
+
+"You hurt me," she moaned.
+
+He let her go, and, mastering her terror, she stood quivering and
+looking at him with strange intensity. Then she made a movement
+forward, but he lifted his finger, and she restrained herself
+with a long sigh. He calmed down suddenly and surveyed her with
+cold criticism, with the same appearance as when, in the old
+days, he used to find fault with the household expenses. She
+found a kind of fearful delight in this abrupt return into the
+past, into her old subjection.
+
+He stood outwardly collected now, and listened to her
+disconnected story. Her words seemed to fall round him with the
+distracting clatter of stunning hail. He caught the meaning here
+and there, and straightway would lose himself in a tremendous
+effort to shape out some intelligible theory of events. There
+was a boat. A boat. A big boat that could take him to sea if
+necessary. That much was clear. She brought it. Why did
+Almayer lie to her so? Was it a plan to decoy him into some
+ambush? Better that than hopeless solitude. She had money. The
+men were ready to go anywhere . . . she said.
+
+He interrupted her--
+
+"Where are they now?"
+
+"They are coming directly," she answered, tearfully. "Directly.
+There are some fishing stakes near here--they said. They are
+coming directly."
+
+Again she was talking and sobbing together. She wanted to be
+forgiven. Forgiven? What for? Ah! the scene in Macassar. As
+if he had time to think of that! What did he care what she had
+done months ago? He seemed to struggle in the toils of
+complicated dreams where everything was impossible, yet a matter
+of course, where the past took the aspects of the future and the
+present lay heavy on his heart--seemed to take him by the throat
+like the hand of an enemy. And while she begged, entreated,
+kissed his hands, wept on his shoulder, adjured him in the name
+of God, to forgive, to forget, to speak the word for which she
+longed, to look at his boy, to believe in her sorrow and in her
+devotion--his eyes, in the fascinated immobility of shining
+pupils, looked far away, far beyond her, beyond the river, beyond
+this land, through days, weeks, months; looked into liberty, into
+the future, into his triumph . . . into the great possibility of
+a startling revenge.
+
+He felt a sudden desire to dance and shout. He shouted--
+
+"After all, we shall meet again, Captain Lingard."
+
+"Oh, no! No!" she cried, joining her hands.
+
+He looked at her with surprise. He had forgotten she was there
+till the break of her cry in the monotonous tones of her prayer
+recalled him into that courtyard from the glorious turmoil of his
+dreams. It was very strange to see her there--near him. He felt
+almost affectionate towards her. After all, she came just in
+time. Then he thought: That other one. I must get away without
+a scene. Who knows; she may be dangerous! . . . And all at once
+he felt he hated Aissa with an immense hatred that seemed to
+choke him. He said to his wife--
+
+"Wait a moment."
+
+She, obedient, seemed to gulp down some words which wanted to
+come out. He muttered: "Stay here," and disappeared round the
+tree.
+
+The water in the iron pan on the cooking fire boiled furiously,
+belching out volumes of white steam that mixed with the thin
+black thread of smoke. The old woman appeared to him through
+this as if in a fog, squatting on her heels, impassive and weird.
+
+Willems came up near and asked, "Where is she?"
+
+The woman did not even lift her head, but answered at once,
+readily, as though she had expected the question for a long time.
+
+"While you were asleep under the tree, before the strange canoe
+came, she went out of the house. I saw her look at you and pass
+on with a great light in her eyes. A great light. And she went
+towards the place where our master Lakamba had his fruit trees.
+When we were many here. Many, many. Men with arms by their
+side. Many . . . men. And talk . . . and songs . . . "
+
+She went on like that, raving gently to herself for a long time
+after Willems had left her.
+
+Willems went back to his wife. He came up close to her and found
+he had nothing to say. Now all his faculties were concentrated
+upon his wish to avoid Aissa. She might stay all the morning in
+that grove. Why did those rascally boatmen go? He had a
+physical repugnance to set eyes on her. And somewhere, at the
+very bottom of his heart, there was a fear of her. Why? What
+could she do? Nothing on earth could stop him now. He felt
+strong, reckless, pitiless, and superior to everything. He
+wanted to preserve before his wife the lofty purity of his
+character. He thought: She does not know. Almayer held his
+tongue about Aissa. But if she finds out, I am lost. If it
+hadn't been for the boy I would . . . free of both of them. . . .
+The idea darted through his head. Not he! Married. . . . Swore
+solemnly. No . . . sacred tie. . . . Looking on his wife, he
+felt for the first time in his life something approaching
+remorse. Remorse, arising from his conception of the awful
+nature of an oath before the altar. . . . She mustn't find out.
+. . . Oh, for that boat! He must run in and get his revolver.
+Couldn't think of trusting himself unarmed with those Bajow
+fellows. Get it now while she is away. Oh, for that boat! . . .
+He dared not go to the river and hail. He thought: She might
+hear me. . . . I'll go and get . . . cartridges . . . then will
+be all ready . . . nothing else. No.
+
+And while he stood meditating profoundly before he could make up
+his mind to run to the house, Joanna pleaded, holding to his
+arm--pleaded despairingly, broken-hearted, hopeless whenever she
+glanced up at his face, which to her seemed to wear the aspect of
+unforgiving rectitude, of virtuous severity, of merciless
+justice. And she pleaded humbly--abashed before him, before the
+unmoved appearance of the man she had wronged in defiance of
+human and divine laws. He heard not a word of what she said till
+she raised her voice in a final appeal--
+
+". . . Don't you see I loved you always? They told me horrible
+things about you. . . . My own mother! They told me--you have
+been--you have been unfaithful to me, and I . . ."
+
+"It's a damned lie!" shouted Willems, waking up for a moment into
+righteous indignation.
+
+"I know! I know--Be generous.--Think of my misery since you went
+away--Oh! I could have torn my tongue out. . . . I will never
+believe anybody--Look at the boy--Be merciful--I could never rest
+till I found you. . . . Say--a word--one word. . ."
+
+"What the devil do you want?" exclaimed Willems, looking towards
+the river. "Where's that damned boat? Why did you let them go
+away? You stupid!"
+
+"Oh, Peter!--I know that in your heart you have forgiven me--You
+are so generous--I want to hear you say so. . . . Tell me--do
+you?"
+
+"Yes! yes!" said Willems, impatiently. "I forgive you. Don't be
+a fool."
+
+"Don't go away. Don't leave me alone here. Where is the danger?
+I am so frightened. . . . Are you alone here? Sure? . . . Let
+us go away!"
+
+"That's sense," said Willems, still looking anxiously towards the
+river.
+
+She sobbed gently, leaning on his arm.
+
+"Let me go," he said.
+
+He had seen above the steep bank the heads of three men glide
+along smoothly. Then, where the shore shelved down to the
+landing-place, appeared a big canoe which came slowly to land.
+
+"Here they are," he went on, briskly. "I must get my revolver."
+
+He made a few hurried paces towards the house, but seemed to
+catch sight of something, turned short round and came back to his
+wife. She stared at him, alarmed by the sudden change in his
+face. He appeared much discomposed. He stammered a little as he
+began to speak.
+
+"Take the child. Walk down to the boat and tell them to drop it
+out of sight, quick, behind the bushes. Do you hear? Quick! I
+will come to you there directly. Hurry up!"
+
+"Peter! What is it? I won't leave you. There is some danger in
+this horrible place."
+
+"Will you do what I tell you?" said Willems, in an irritable
+whisper.
+
+"No! no! no! I won't leave you. I will not lose you again.
+Tell me, what is it?"
+
+From beyond the house came a faint voice singing. Willems shook
+his wife by the shoulder.
+
+"Do what I tell you! Run at once!"
+
+She gripped his arm and clung to him desperately. He looked up to
+heaven as if taking it to witness of that woman's infernal folly.
+
+The song grew louder, then ceased suddenly, and Aissa appeared in
+sight, walking slowly, her hands full of flowers.
+
+She had turned the corner of the house, coming out into the full
+sunshine, and the light seemed to leap upon her in a stream
+brilliant, tender, and caressing, as if attracted by the radiant
+happiness of her face. She had dressed herself for a festive
+day, for the memorable day of his return to her, of his return to
+an affection that would last for ever. The rays of the morning
+sun were caught by the oval clasp of the embroidered belt that
+held the silk sarong round her waist. The dazzling white stuff
+of her body jacket was crossed by a bar of yellow and silver of
+her scarf, and in the black hair twisted high on her small head
+shone the round balls of gold pins amongst crimson blossoms and
+white star-shaped flowers, with which she had crowned herself to
+charm his eyes; those eyes that were henceforth to see nothing in
+the world but her own resplendent image. And she moved slowly,
+bending her face over the mass of pure white champakas and
+jasmine pressed to her breast, in a dreamy intoxication of sweet
+scents and of sweeter hopes.
+
+She did not seem to see anything, stopped for a moment at the
+foot of the plankway leading to the house, then, leaving her
+high-heeled wooden sandals there, ascended the planks in a light
+run; straight, graceful, flexible, and noiseless, as if she had
+soared up to the door on invisible wings. Willems pushed his
+wife roughly behind the tree, and made up his mind quickly for a
+rush to the house, to grab his revolver and . . . Thoughts,
+doubts, expedients seemed to boil in his brain. He had a
+flashing vision of delivering a stunning blow, of tying up that
+flower bedecked woman in the dark house--a vision of things done
+swiftly with enraged haste--to save his prestige, his
+superiority--something of immense importance. . . . He had not
+made two steps when Joanna bounded after him, caught the back of
+his ragged jacket, tore out a big piece, and instantly hooked
+herself with both hands to the collar, nearly dragging him down
+on his back. Although taken by surprise, he managed to keep his
+feet. From behind she panted into his ear--
+
+"That woman! Who's that woman? Ah! that's what those boatmen
+were talking about. I heard them . . . heard them . . . heard .
+. . in the night. They spoke about some woman. I dared not
+understand. I would not ask . . . listen . . . believe! How
+could I? Then it's true. No. Say no. . . . Who's that woman?"
+
+He swayed, tugging forward. She jerked at him till the button
+gave way, and then he slipped half out of his jacket and, turning
+round, remained strangely motionless. His heart seemed to beat
+in his throat. He choked--tried to speak--could not find any
+words. He thought with fury: I will kill both of them.
+
+For a second nothing moved about the courtyard in the great vivid
+clearness of the day. Only down by the landing-place a
+waringan-tree, all in a blaze of clustering red berries, seemed
+alive with the stir of little birds that filled with the feverish
+flutter of their feathers the tangle of overloaded branches.
+Suddenly the variegated flock rose spinning in a soft whirr and
+dispersed, slashing the sunlit haze with the sharp outlines of
+stiffened wings. Mahmat and one of his brothers appeared coming
+up from the landing-place, their lances in their hands, to look
+for their passengers.
+
+Aissa coming now empty-handed out of the house, caught sight of
+the two armed men. In her surprise she emitted a faint cry,
+vanished back and in a flash reappeared in the doorway with
+Willems' revolver in her hand. To her the presence of any man
+there could only have an ominous meaning. There was nothing in
+the outer world but enemies. She and the man she loved were
+alone, with nothing round them but menacing dangers. She did not
+mind that, for if death came, no matter from what hand, they
+would die together.
+
+Her resolute eyes took in the courtyard in a circular glance.
+She noticed that the two strangers had ceased to advance and now
+were standing close together leaning on the polished shafts of
+their weapons. The next moment she saw Willems, with his back
+towards her, apparently struggling under the tree with some one.
+She saw nothing distinctly, and, unhesitating, flew down the
+plankway calling out: "I come!"
+
+He heard her cry, and with an unexpected rush drove his wife
+backwards to the seat. She fell on it; he jerked himself
+altogether out of his jacket, and she covered her face with the
+soiled rags. He put his lips close to her, asking--
+
+"For the last time, will you take the child and go?"
+
+She groaned behind the unclean ruins of his upper garment. She
+mumbled something. He bent lower to hear. She was saying--
+
+"I won't. Order that woman away. I can't look at her!"
+
+"You fool!"
+
+He seemed to spit the words at her, then, making up his mind,
+spun round to face Aissa. She was coming towards them slowly
+now, with a look of unbounded amazement on her face. Then she
+stopped and stared at him--who stood there, stripped to the
+waist, bare-headed and sombre.
+
+Some way off, Mahmat and his brother exchanged rapid words in
+calm undertones. . . . This was the strong daughter of the holy
+man who had died. The white man is very tall. There would be
+three women and the child to take in the boat, besides that white
+man who had the money. . . . The brother went away back to the
+boat, and Mahmat remained looking on. He stood like a sentinel,
+the leaf-shaped blade of his lance glinting above his head.
+
+Willems spoke suddenly.
+
+"Give me this," he said, stretching his hand towards the
+revolver.
+
+Aissa stepped back. Her lips trembled. She said very low:
+"Your people?"
+
+He nodded slightly. She shook her head thoughtfully, and a few
+delicate petals of the flowers dying in her hair fell like big
+drops of crimson and white at her feet.
+
+"Did you know?" she whispered.
+
+"No!" said Willems. "They sent for me."
+
+"Tell them to depart. They are accursed. What is there between
+them and you--and you who carry my life in your heart!"
+
+Willems said nothing. He stood before her looking down on the
+ground and repeating to himself: I must get that revolver away
+from her, at once, at once. I can't think of trusting myself with
+those men without firearms. I must have it.
+
+She asked, after gazing in silence at Joanna, who was sobbing
+gently--
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"My wife," answered Willems, without looking up. "My wife
+according to our white law, which comes from God!"
+
+"Your law! Your God!" murmured Aissa, contemptuously.
+
+"Give me this revolver," said Willems, in a peremptory tone. He
+felt an unwillingness to close with her, to get it by force.
+
+She took no notice and went on--
+
+"Your law . . . or your lies? What am I to believe? I came--I
+ran to defend you when I saw the strange men. You lied to me
+with your lips, with your eyes. You crooked heart! . . . Ah!"
+she added, after an abrupt pause. "She is the first! Am I then
+to be a slave?"
+
+"You may be what you like," said Willems, brutally. "I am
+going."
+
+Her gaze was fastened on the blanket under which she had detected
+a slight movement. She made a long stride towards it. Willems
+turned half round. His legs seemed to him to be made of lead.
+He felt faint and so weak that, for a moment, the fear of dying
+there where he stood, before he could escape from sin and
+disaster, passed through his mind in a wave of despair.
+
+She lifted up one corner of the blanket, and when she saw the
+sleeping child a sudden quick shudder shook her as though she had
+seen something inexpressibly horrible. She looked at Louis
+Willems with eyes fixed in an unbelieving and terrified stare.
+Then her fingers opened slowly, and a shadow seemed to settle on
+her face as if something obscure and fatal had come between her
+and the sunshine. She stood looking down, absorbed, as though
+she had watched at the bottom of a gloomy abyss the mournful
+procession of her thoughts.
+
+Willems did not move. All his faculties were concentrated upon
+the idea of his release. And it was only then that the assurance
+of it came to him with such force that he seemed to hear a loud
+voice shouting in the heavens that all was over, that in another
+five, ten minutes, he would step into another existence; that all
+this, the woman, the madness, the sin, the regrets, all would go,
+rush into the past, disappear, become as dust, as smoke, as
+drifting clouds--as nothing! Yes! All would vanish in the
+unappeasable past which would swallow up all--even the very
+memory of his temptation and of his downfall. Nothing mattered.
+He cared for nothing. He had forgotten Aissa, his wife, Lingard,
+Hudig--everybody, in the rapid vision of his hopeful future.
+
+After a while he heard Aissa saying--
+
+"A child! A child! What have I done to be made to devour this
+sorrow and this grief? And while your man-child and the mother
+lived you told me there was nothing for you to remember in the
+land from which you came! And I thought you could be mine. I
+thought that I would . . ."
+
+Her voice ceased in a broken murmur, and with it, in her heart,
+seemed to die the greater and most precious hope of her new life.
+
+She had hoped that in the future the frail arms of a child would
+bind their two lives together in a bond which nothing on earth
+could break, a bond of affection, of gratitude, of tender
+respect. She the first--the only one! But in the instant she
+saw the son of that other woman she felt herself removed into the
+cold, the darkness, the silence of a solitude impenetrable and
+immense--very far from him, beyond the possibility of any hope,
+into an infinity of wrongs without any redress.
+
+She strode nearer to Joanna. She felt towards that woman anger,
+envy, jealousy. Before her she felt humiliated and enraged. She
+seized the hanging sleeve of the jacket in which Joanna was
+hiding her face and tore it out of her hands, exclaiming loudly--
+
+"Let me see the face of her before whom I am only a servant and a
+slave. Ya-wa! I see you!"
+
+Her unexpected shout seemed to fill the sunlit space of cleared
+grounds, rise high and run on far into the land over the
+unstirring tree-tops of the forests. She stood in sudden
+stillness, looking at Joanna with surprised contempt.
+
+"A Sirani woman!" she said, slowly, in a tone of wonder.
+
+Joanna rushed at Willems--clung to him, shrieking: "Defend me,
+Peter! Defend me from that woman!"
+
+"Be quiet. There is no danger," muttered Willems, thickly.
+
+Aissa looked at them with scorn. "God is great! I sit in the
+dust at your feet," she exclaimed jeeringly, joining her hands
+above her head in a gesture of mock humility. "Before you I am
+as nothing." She turned to Willems fiercely, opening her arms
+wide. "What have you made of me?" she cried, "you lying child of
+an accursed mother! What have you made of me? The slave of a
+slave. Don't speak! Your words are worse than the poison of
+snakes. A Sirani woman. A woman of a people despised by all."
+
+She pointed her finger at Joanna, stepped back, and began to
+laugh.
+
+"Make her stop, Peter!" screamed Joanna. "That heathen woman.
+Heathen! Heathen! Beat her, Peter."
+
+Willems caught sight of the revolver which Aissa had laid on the
+seat near the child. He spoke in Dutch to his wife, without
+moving his head.
+
+"Snatch the boy--and my revolver there. See. Run to the boat.
+I will keep her back. Now's the time."
+
+Aissa came nearer. She stared at Joanna, while between the short
+gusts of broken laughter she raved, fumbling distractedly at the
+buckle of her belt.
+
+"To her! To her--the mother of him who will speak of your
+wisdom, of your courage. All to her. I have nothing. Nothing.
+Take, take."
+
+She tore the belt off and threw it at Joanna's feet. She flung
+down with haste the armlets, the gold pins, the flowers; and the
+long hair, released, fell scattered over her shoulders, framing
+in its blackness the wild exaltation of her face.
+
+"Drive her off, Peter. Drive off the heathen savage," persisted
+Joanna. She seemed to have lost her head altogether. She
+stamped, clinging to Willems' arm with both her hands.
+
+"Look," cried Aissa. "Look at the mother of your son! She is
+afraid. Why does she not go from before my face? Look at her.
+She is ugly."
+
+Joanna seemed to understand the scornful tone of the words. As
+Aissa stepped back again nearer to the tree she let go her
+husband's arm, rushed at her madly, slapped her face, then,
+swerving round, darted at the child who, unnoticed, had been
+wailing for some time, and, snatching him up, flew down to the
+waterside, sending shriek after shriek in an access of insane
+terror.
+
+Willems made for the revolver. Aissa passed swiftly, giving him
+an unexpected push that sent him staggering away from the tree.
+She caught up the weapon, put it behind her back, and cried--
+
+"You shall not have it. Go after her. Go to meet danger. . . .
+Go to meet death. . . . Go unarmed. . . . Go with empty hands
+and sweet words . . . as you came to me. . . . Go helpless and
+lie to the forests, to the sea . . . to the death that waits for
+you. . . ."
+
+She ceased as if strangled. She saw in the horror of the passing
+seconds the half-naked, wild-looking man before her; she heard
+the faint shrillness of Joanna's insane shrieks for help
+somewhere down by the riverside. The sunlight streamed on her,
+on him, on the mute land, on the murmuring river--the gentle
+brilliance of a serene morning that, to her, seemed traversed by
+ghastly flashes of uncertain darkness. Hate filled the world,
+filled the space between them--the hate of race, the hate of
+hopeless diversity, the hate of blood; the hate against the man
+born in the land of lies and of evil from which nothing but
+misfortune comes to those who are not white. And as she stood,
+maddened, she heard a whisper near her, the whisper of the dead
+Omar's voice saying in her ear: "Kill! Kill!"
+
+She cried, seeing him move--
+
+"Do not come near me . . . or you die now! Go while I remember
+yet . . . remember. . . ."
+
+Willems pulled himself together for a struggle. He dared not go
+unarmed. He made a long stride, and saw her raise the revolver.
+He noticed that she had not cocked it, and said to himself that,
+even if she did fire, she would surely miss. Go too high; it was
+a stiff trigger. He made a step nearer--saw the long barrel
+moving unsteadily at the end of her extended arm. He thought:
+This is my time . . . He bent his knees slightly, throwing his
+body forward, and took off with a long bound for a tearing rush.
+
+He saw a burst of red flame before his eyes, and was deafened by
+a report that seemed to him louder than a clap of thunder.
+Something stopped him short, and he stood aspiring in his
+nostrils the acrid smell of the blue smoke that drifted from
+before his eyes like an immense cloud. . . . Missed, by Heaven!
+. . . Thought so! . . . And he saw her very far off, throwing
+her arms up, while the revolver, very small, lay on the ground
+between them. . . . Missed! . . . He would go and pick it up
+now. Never before did he understand, as in that second, the joy,
+the triumphant delight of sunshine and of life. His mouth was
+full of something salt and warm. He tried to cough; spat out. . .
+. Who shrieks: In the name of God, he dies!--he dies!--Who
+dies?--Must pick up--Night!--What? . . . Night already. . . .
+
+* * * * * *
+
+
+Many years afterwards Almayer was telling the story of the great
+revolution in Sambir to a chance visitor from Europe. He was a
+Roumanian, half naturalist, half orchid-hunter for commercial
+purposes, who used to declare to everybody, in the first five
+minutes of acquaintance, his intention of writing a scientific
+book about tropical countries. On his way to the interior he had
+quartered himself upon Almayer. He was a man of some education,
+but he drank his gin neat, or only, at most, would squeeze the
+juice of half a small lime into the raw spirit. He said it was
+good for his health, and, with that medicine before him, he would
+describe to the surprised Almayer the wonders of European
+capitals; while Almayer, in exchange, bored him by expounding,
+with gusto, his unfavourable opinions of Sambir's social and
+political life. They talked far into the night, across the deal
+table on the verandah, while, between them, clear-winged, small,
+and flabby insects, dissatisfied with moonlight, streamed in and
+perished in thousands round the smoky light of the evil-smelling
+lamp.
+
+Almayer, his face flushed, was saying--
+
+"Of course, I did not see that. I told you I was stuck in the
+creek on account of father's--Captain Lingard's--susceptible
+temper. I am sure I did it all for the best in trying to
+facilitate the fellow's escape; but Captain Lingard was that kind
+of man--you know--one couldn't argue with. Just before sunset
+the water was high enough, and we got out of the creek. We got
+to Lakamba's clearing about dark. All very quiet; I thought they
+were gone, of course, and felt very glad. We walked up the
+courtyard--saw a big heap of something lying in the middle. Out
+of that she rose and rushed at us. By God. . . . You know those
+stories of faithful dogs watching their masters' corpses . . .
+don't let anybody approach . . . got to beat them off--and all
+that. . . . Well, 'pon my word we had to beat her off. Had to!
+She was like a fury. Wouldn't let us touch him. Dead--of
+course. Should think so. Shot through the lung, on the left
+side, rather high up, and at pretty close quarters too, for the
+two holes were small. Bullet came out through the
+shoulder-blade. After we had overpowered her--you can't imagine
+how strong that woman was; it took three of us--we got the body
+into the boat and shoved off. We thought she had fainted then,
+but she got up and rushed into the water after us. Well, I let
+her clamber in. What could I do? The river's full of
+alligators. I will never forget that pull up-stream in the night
+as long as I live. She sat in the bottom of the boat, holding
+his head in her lap, and now and again wiping his face with her
+hair. There was a lot of blood dried about his mouth and chin.
+And for all the six hours of that journey she kept on whispering
+tenderly to that corpse! . . . I had the mate of the schooner
+with me. The man said afterwards that he wouldn't go through it
+again--not for a handful of diamonds. And I believed him--I did.
+It makes me shiver. Do you think he heard? No! I mean
+somebody--something--heard? . . ."
+
+"I am a materialist," declared the man of science, tilting the
+bottle shakily over the emptied glass.
+
+Almayer shook his head and went on--
+
+"Nobody saw how it really happened but that man Mahmat. He
+always said that he was no further off from them than two lengths
+of his lance. It appears the two women rowed each other while
+that Willems stood between them. Then Mahmat says that when
+Joanna struck her and ran off, the other two seemed to become
+suddenly mad together. They rushed here and there. Mahmat
+says--those were his very words: 'I saw her standing holding the
+pistol that fires many times and pointing it all over the
+campong. I was afraid--lest she might shoot me, and jumped on
+one side. Then I saw the white man coming at her swiftly. He
+came like our master the tiger when he rushes out of the jungle
+at the spears held by men. She did not take aim. The barrel of
+her weapon went like this--from side to side, but in her eyes I
+could see suddenly a great fear. There was only one shot. She
+shrieked while the white man stood blinking his eyes and very
+straight, till you could count slowly one, two, three; then he
+coughed and fell on his face. The daughter of Omar shrieked
+without drawing breath, till he fell. I went away then and left
+silence behind me. These things did not concern me, and in my
+boat there was that other woman who had promised me money. We
+left directly, paying no attention to her cries. We are only
+poor men--and had but a small reward for our trouble!' That's
+what Mahmat said. Never varied. You ask him yourself. He's the
+man you hired the boats from, for your journey up the river."
+
+"The most rapacious thief I ever met!" exclaimed the traveller,
+thickly.
+
+"Ah! He is a respectable man. His two brothers got themselves
+speared--served them right. They went in for robbing Dyak
+graves. Gold ornaments in them you know. Serve them right. But
+he kept respectable and got on. Aye! Everybody got on--but I.
+And all through that scoundrel who brought the Arabs here."
+
+"De mortuis nil ni . . . num," muttered Almayer's guest.
+
+"I wish you would speak English instead of jabbering in your own
+language, which no one can understand," said Almayer, sulkily.
+
+"Don't be angry," hiccoughed the other. "It's Latin, and it's
+wisdom. It means: Don't waste your breath in abusing shadows.
+No offence there. I like you. You have a quarrel with
+Providence--so have I. I was meant to be a professor,
+while--look."
+
+His head nodded. He sat grasping the glass. Almayer walked up
+and down, then stopped suddenly.
+
+"Yes, they all got on but I. Why? I am better than any of them.
+Lakamba calls himself a Sultan, and when I go to see him on
+business sends that one-eyed fiend of his--Babalatchi--to tell me
+that the ruler is asleep; and shall sleep for a long time. And
+that Babalatchi! He is the Shahbandar of the State--if you
+please. Oh Lord! Shahbandar! The pig! A vagabond I wouldn't
+let come up these steps when he first came here. . . . Look at
+Abdulla now. He lives here because--he says--here he is away
+from white men. But he has hundreds of thousands. Has a house
+in Penang. Ships. What did he not have when he stole my trade
+from me! He knocked everything here into a cocked hat, drove
+father to gold-hunting--then to Europe, where he disappeared.
+Fancy a man like Captain Lingard disappearing as though he had
+been a common coolie. Friends of mine wrote to London asking
+about him. Nobody ever heard of him there! Fancy! Never heard
+of Captain Lingard!"
+
+The learned gatherer of orchids lifted his head.
+
+"He was a sen--sentimen--tal old buc--buccaneer," he stammered
+out, "I like him. I'm sent--tal myself."
+
+He winked slowly at Almayer, who laughed.
+
+"Yes! I told you about that gravestone. Yes! Another hundred
+and twenty dollars thrown away. Wish I had them now. He would
+do it. And the inscription. Ha! ha! ha! 'Peter Willems,
+Delivered by the Mercy of God from his Enemy.' What
+enemy--unless Captain Lingard himself? And then it has no sense.
+He was a great man--father was--but strange in many ways. . . .
+You haven't seen the grave? On the top of that hill, there, on
+the other side of the river. I must show you. We will go
+there."
+
+"Not I!" said the other. "No interest--in the sun--too tiring. .
+. . Unless you carry me there."
+
+As a matter of fact he was carried there a few months afterwards,
+and his was the second white man's grave in Sambir; but at
+present he was alive if rather drunk. He asked abruptly--
+
+"And the woman?"
+
+"Oh! Lingard, of course, kept her and her ugly brat in Macassar.
+Sinful waste of money--that! Devil only knows what became of them
+since father went home. I had my daughter to look after. I
+shall give you a word to Mrs. Vinck in Singapore when you go
+back. You shall see my Nina there. Lucky man. She is beautiful,
+and I hear so accomplished, so . . ."
+
+"I have heard already twenty . . . a hundred times about your
+daughter. What ab--about--that--that other one, Ai--ssa?"
+
+"She! Oh! we kept her here. She was mad for a long time in a
+quiet sort of way. Father thought a lot of her. He gave her a
+house to live in, in my campong. She wandered about, speaking to
+nobody unless she caught sight of Abdulla, when she would have a
+fit of fury, and shriek and curse like anything. Very often she
+would disappear--and then we all had to turn out and hunt for
+her, because father would worry till she was brought back. Found
+her in all kinds of places. Once in the abandoned campong of
+Lakamba. Sometimes simply wandering in the bush. She had one
+favourite spot we always made for at first. It was ten to one on
+finding her there--a kind of a grassy glade on the banks of a
+small brook. Why she preferred that place, I can't imagine! And
+such a job to get her away from there. Had to drag her away by
+main force. Then, as the time passed, she became quieter and
+more settled, like. Still, all my people feared her greatly. It
+was my Nina that tamed her. You see the child was naturally
+fearless and used to have her own way, so she would go to her and
+pull at her sarong, and order her about, as she did everybody.
+Finally she, I verily believe, came to love the child. Nothing
+could resist that little one--you know. She made a capital
+nurse. Once when the little devil ran away from me and fell into
+the river off the end of the jetty, she jumped in and pulled her
+out in no time. I very nearly died of fright. Now of course she
+lives with my serving girls, but does what she likes. As long as
+I have a handful of rice or a piece of cotton in the store she
+sha'n't want for anything. You have seen her. She brought in
+the dinner with Ali."
+
+"What! That doubled-up crone?"
+
+"Ah!" said Almayer. "They age quickly here. And long foggy
+nights spent in the bush will soon break the strongest backs--as
+you will find out yourself soon."
+
+"Dis . . . disgusting," growled the traveller.
+
+He dozed off. Almayer stood by the balustrade looking out at the
+bluish sheen of the moonlit night. The forests, unchanged and
+sombre, seemed to hang over the water, listening to the unceasing
+whisper of the great river; and above their dark wall the hill on
+which Lingard had buried the body of his late prisoner rose in a
+black, rounded mass, upon the silver paleness of the sky.
+Almayer looked for a long time at the clean-cut outline of the
+summit, as if trying to make out through darkness and distance
+the shape of that expensive tombstone. When he turned round at
+last he saw his guest sleeping, his arms on the table, his head
+on his arms.
+
+"Now, look here!" he shouted, slapping the table with the palm of
+his hand.
+
+The naturalist woke up, and sat all in a heap, staring owlishly.
+
+"Here!" went on Almayer, speaking very loud and thumping the
+table, "I want to know. You, who say you have read all the
+books, just tell me . . . why such infernal things are ever
+allowed. Here I am! Done harm to nobody, lived an honest life .
+. . and a scoundrel like that is born in Rotterdam or some such
+place at the other end of the world somewhere, travels out here,
+robs his employer, runs away from his wife, and ruins me and my
+Nina--he ruined me, I tell you--and gets himself shot at last by
+a poor miserable savage, that knows nothing at all about him
+really. Where's the sense of all this? Where's your Providence?
+Where's the good for anybody in all this? The world's a swindle!
+A swindle! Why should I suffer? What have I done to be treated
+so?"
+
+He howled out his string of questions, and suddenly became
+silent. The man who ought to have been a professor made a
+tremendous effort to articulate distinctly--
+
+"My dear fellow, don't--don't you see that the ba-bare fac--the
+fact of your existence is off--offensive. . . . I--I like
+you--like . . ."
+
+He fell forward on the table, and ended his remarks by an
+unexpected and prolonged snore.
+
+Almayer shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the balustrade.
+
+He drank his own trade gin very seldom, but when he did, a
+ridiculously small quantity of the stuff could induce him to
+assume a rebellious attitude towards the scheme of the universe.
+And now, throwing his body over the rail, he shouted impudently
+into the night, turning his face towards that far-off and
+invisible slab of imported granite upon which Lingard had thought
+fit to record God's mercy and Willems' escape.
+
+"Father was wrong--wrong!" he yelled. "I want you to smart for
+it. You must smart for it! Where are you, Willems? Hey? . . .
+Hey? . . . Where there is no mercy for you--I hope!"
+
+"Hope," repeated in a whispering echo the startled forests, the
+river and the hills; and Almayer, who stood waiting, with a smile
+of tipsy attention on his lips, heard no other answer.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of An Outcast of the Islands
+
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