Complete Works

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