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!"
