Complete Works

he give him up to the Dutch, for fear of some fatal disclosure of complicity in the treasonable trade.  So Dain felt tolerably secure as he sat meditating quietly his answer to the Rajah’s bloodthirsty speech.  Yes, he would point out to him the aspect of his position should he — Dain — fall into the hands of the Dutch and should he speak the truth.  He would have nothing more to lose then, and he would speak the truth.  And if he did return to Sambir, disturbing thereby Lakamba’s peace of mind, what then?  He came to look after his property.  Did he not pour a stream of silver into Mrs. Almayer’s greedy lap?  He had paid, for the girl, a price worthy of a great prince, although unworthy of that delightfully maddening creature for whom his untamed soul longed in an intensity of desire far more tormenting than the sharpest pain.  He wanted his happiness.  He had the right to be in Sambir.
    He rose, and, approaching the table, leaned both his elbows on it; Lakamba responsively edged his seat a little closer, while Babalatchi scrambled to his feet and thrust his inquisitive head between his master’s and Dain’s.  They interchanged their ideas rapidly, speaking in whispers into each other’s faces, very close now, Dain suggesting, Lakamba contradicting, Babalatchi conciliating and anxious in his vivid apprehension of coming difficulties.  He spoke most, whispering earnestly, turning his head slowly from side to side so as to bring his solitary eye to bear upon each of his interlocutors in turn.  Why should there be strife? said he.  Let Tuan Dain, whom he loved only less than his master, go trustfully into hiding.  There were many places for that.  Bulangi’s house away in the clearing was best.
    Bulangi was a safe man.  In the network of crooked channels no white man could find his way.  White men were strong, but very foolish.  It was undesirable to fight them, but deception was easy.  They were like silly women — they did not know the use of reason, and he was a match for any of them — went on Babalatchi, with all the confidence of deficient experience.  Probably the Dutch would seek Almayer.  Maybe they would take away their countryman if they were suspicious of him.  That would be good.  After the Dutch went away Lakamba and Dain would get the treasure without any trouble, and there would be one person less to share it.  Did he not speak wisdom?  Will Tuan Dain go to Bulangi’s house till the danger is over, go at once?
    Dain accepted this suggestion of going into hiding with a certain sense of conferring a favour upon Lakamba and the anxious statesman, but he met the proposal of going at once with a decided no, looking Babalatchi meaningly in the eye.  The statesman sighed as a man accepting the inevitable would do, and pointed silently towards the other bank of the river.  Dain bent his head slowly.
    “Yes, I am going there,” he said.
    “Before the day comes?” asked Babalatchi.
    “I am going there now,” answered Dain, decisively.  “The Orang Blanda will not be here before to-morrow night, perhaps, and I must tell Almayer of our arrangements.”
    “No, Tuan.  No; say nothing,” protested Babalatchi.  “I will go over myself at sunrise and let him know.”
    “I will see,” said Dain, preparing to go.
    The thunderstorm was recommencing outside, the heavy clouds hanging low overhead now.
    There was a constant rumble of distant thunder punctuated by the nearer sharp crashes, and in the continuous play of blue lightning the woods and the river showed fitfully, with all the elusive distinctness of detail characteristic of such a scene.  Outside the door of the Rajah’s house Dain and Babalatchi stood on the shaking verandah as if dazed and stunned by the violence of the storm.  They stood there amongst the cowering forms of the Rajah’s slaves and retainers seeking shelter from the rain, and Dain called aloud to his boatmen, who responded with an unanimous “Ada!  Tuan!” while they looked uneasily at the river.
    “This is a great flood!” shouted Babalatchi into Dain’s ear.  “The river is very angry.  Look!  Look at the drifting logs!  Can you go?”
    Dain glanced doubtfully on the livid expanse of seething water bounded far away on the other side by the narrow black line of the forests.  Suddenly, in a vivid white flash, the low point of land with the bending trees on it and Almayer’s house, leaped into view, flickered and