<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
<p>In the middle of a shadowless square of moonlight, shining on a smooth
and level expanse of young rice-shoots, a little shelter-hut perched
on high posts, the pile of brushwood near by and the glowing embers
of a fire with a man stretched before it, seemed very small and as if
lost in the pale green iridescence reflected from the ground.
On three sides of the clearing, appearing very far away in the deceptive
light, the big trees of the forest, lashed together with manifold bonds
by a mass of tangled creepers, looked down at the growing young life
at their feet with the sombre resignation of giants that had lost faith
in their strength. And in the midst of them the merciless creepers
clung to the big trunks in cable-like coils, leaped from tree to tree,
hung in thorny festoons from the lower boughs, and, sending slender
tendrils on high to seek out the smallest branches, carried death to
their victims in an exulting riot of silent destruction.</p>
<p>On the fourth side, following the curve of the bank of that branch
of the Pantai that formed the only access to the clearing, ran a black
line of young trees, bushes, and thick second growth, unbroken save
for a small gap chopped out in one place. At that gap began the
narrow footpath leading from the water’s edge to the grass-built
shelter used by the night watchers when the ripening crop had to be
protected from the wild pigs. The pathway ended at the foot of
the piles on which the hut was built, in a circular space covered with
ashes and bits of burnt wood. In the middle of that space, by
the dim fire, lay Dain.</p>
<p>He turned over on his side with an impatient sigh, and, pillowing
his head on his bent arm, lay quietly with his face to the dying fire.
The glowing embers shone redly in a small circle, throwing a gleam into
his wide-open eyes, and at every deep breath the fine white ash of bygone
fires rose in a light cloud before his parted lips, and danced away
from the warm glow into the moonbeams pouring down upon Bulangi’s
clearing. His body was weary with the exertion of the past few
days, his mind more weary still with the strain of solitary waiting
for his fate. Never before had he felt so helpless. He had
heard the report of the gun fired on board the launch, and he knew that
his life was in untrustworthy hands, and that his enemies were very
near. During the slow hours of the afternoon he roamed about on
the edge of the forest, or, hiding in the bushes, watched the creek
with unquiet eyes for some sign of danger. He feared not death,
yet he desired ardently to live, for life to him was Nina. She
had promised to come, to follow him, to share his danger and his splendour.
But with her by his side he cared not for danger, and without her there
could be no splendour and no joy in existence.</p>
<p>Crouching in his shady hiding-place, he closed his eyes, trying to
evoke the gracious and charming image of the white figure that for him
was the beginning and the end of life. With eyes shut tight, his
teeth hard set, he tried in a great effort of passionate will to keep
his hold on that vision of supreme delight. In vain! His
heart grew heavy as the figure of Nina faded away to be replaced by
another vision this time—a vision of armed men, of angry faces,
of glittering arms—and he seemed to hear the hum of excited and
triumphant voices as they discovered him in his hiding-place.
Startled by the vividness of his fancy, he would open his eyes, and,
leaping out into the sunlight, resume his aimless wanderings around
the clearing. As he skirted in his weary march the edge of the
forest he glanced now and then into its dark shade, so enticing in its
deceptive appearance of coolness, so repellent with its unrelieved gloom,
where lay, entombed and rotting, countless generations of trees, and
where their successors stood as if mourning, in dark green foliage,
immense and helpless, awaiting their turn. Only the parasites
seemed to live there in a sinuous rush upwards into the air and sunshine,
feeding on the dead and the dying alike, and crowning their victims
with pink and blue flowers that gleamed amongst the boughs, incongruous
and cruel, like a strident and mocking note in the solemn harmony of
the doomed trees.</p>
<p>A man could hide there, thought Dain, as he approached a place where
the creepers had been torn and hacked into an archway that might have
been the beginning of a path. As he bent down to look through
he heard angry grunting, and a sounder of wild pig crashed away in the
undergrowth. An acrid smell of damp earth and of decaying leaves
took him by the throat, and he drew back with a scared face, as if he
had been touched by the breath of Death itself. The very air seemed
dead in there—heavy and stagnating, poisoned with the corruption
of countless ages. He went on, staggering on his way, urged by
the nervous restlessness that made him feel tired yet caused him to
loathe the very idea of immobility and repose. Was he a wild man
to hide in the woods and perhaps be killed there—in the darkness—where
there was no room to breathe? He would wait for his enemies in
the sunlight, where he could see the sky and feel the breeze.
He knew how a Malay chief should die. The sombre and desperate
fury, that peculiar inheritance of his race, took possession of him,
and he glared savagely across the clearing towards the gap in the bushes
by the riverside. They would come from there. In imagination
he saw them now. He saw the bearded faces and the white jackets
of the officers, the light on the levelled barrels of the rifles.
What is the bravery of the greatest warrior before the firearms in the
hand of a slave? He would walk toward them with a smiling face,
with his hands held out in a sign of submission till he was very near
them. He would speak friendly words—come nearer yet—yet
nearer—so near that they could touch him with their hands and
stretch them out to make him a captive. That would be the time:
with a shout and a leap he would be in the midst of them, kriss in hand,
killing, killing, killing, and would die with the shouts of his enemies
in his ears, their warm blood spurting before his eyes.</p>
<p>Carried away by his excitement, he snatched the kriss hidden in his
sarong, and, drawing a long breath, rushed forward, struck at the empty
air, and fell on his face. He lay as if stunned in the sudden
reaction from his exaltation, thinking that, even if he died thus gloriously,
it would have to be before he saw Nina. Better so. If he
saw her again he felt that death would be too terrible. With horror
he, the descendant of Rajahs and of conquerors, had to face the doubt
of his own bravery. His desire of life tormented him in a paroxysm
of agonising remorse. He had not the courage to stir a limb.
He had lost faith in himself, and there was nothing else in him of what
makes a man. The suffering remained, for it is ordered that it
should abide in the human body even to the last breath, and fear remained.
Dimly he could look into the depths of his passionate love, see its
strength and its weakness, and felt afraid.</p>
<p>The sun went down slowly. The shadow of the western forest
marched over the clearing, covered the man’s scorched shoulders
with its cool mantle, and went on hurriedly to mingle with the shadows
of other forests on the eastern side. The sun lingered for a while
amongst the light tracery of the higher branches, as if in friendly
reluctance to abandon the body stretched in the green paddy-field.
Then Dain, revived by the cool of the evening breeze, sat up and stared
round him. As he did so the sun dipped sharply, as if ashamed
of being detected in a sympathising attitude, and the clearing, which
during the day was all light, became suddenly all darkness, where the
fire gleamed like an eye. Dain walked slowly towards the creek,
and, divesting himself of his torn sarong, his only garment, entered
the water cautiously. He had had nothing to eat that day, and
had not dared show himself in daylight by the water-side to drink.
Now, as he swam silently, he swallowed a few mouthfuls of water that
lapped about his lips. This did him good, and he walked with greater
confidence in himself and others as he returned towards the fire.
Had he been betrayed by Lakamba all would have been over by this.
He made up a big blaze, and while it lasted dried himself, and then
lay down by the embers. He could not sleep, but he felt a great
numbness in all his limbs. His restlessness was gone, and he was
content to lay still, measuring the time by watching the stars that
rose in endless succession above the forests, while the slight puffs
of wind under the cloudless sky seemed to fan their twinkle into a greater
brightness. Dreamily he assured himself over and over again that
she would come, till the certitude crept into his heart and filled him
with a great peace. Yes, when the next day broke, they would be
together on the great blue sea that was like life—away from the
forests that were like death. He murmured the name of Nina into
the silent space with a tender smile: this seemed to break the spell
of stillness, and far away by the creek a frog croaked loudly as if
in answer. A chorus of loud roars and plaintive calls rose from
the mud along the line of bushes. He laughed heartily; doubtless
it was their love-song. He felt affectionate towards the frogs
and listened, pleased with the noisy life near him.</p>
<p>When the moon peeped above the trees he felt the old impatience and
the old restlessness steal over him. Why was she so late?
True, it was a long way to come with a single paddle. With what
skill and what endurance could those small hands manage a heavy paddle!
It was very wonderful—such small hands, such soft little palms
that knew how to touch his cheek with a feel lighter than the fanning
of a butterfly’s wing. Wonderful! He lost himself
lovingly in the contemplation of this tremendous mystery, and when he
looked at the moon again it had risen a hand’s breadth above the
trees. Would she come? He forced himself to lay still, overcoming
the impulse to rise and rush round the clearing again. He turned
this way and that; at last, quivering with the effort, he lay on his
back, and saw her face among the stars looking down on him.</p>
<p>The croaking of frogs suddenly ceased. With the watchfulness
of a hunted man Dain sat up, listening anxiously, and heard several
splashes in the water as the frogs took rapid headers into the creek.
He knew that they had been alarmed by something, and stood up suspicious
and attentive. A slight grating noise, then the dry sound as of
two pieces of wood struck against each other. Somebody was about
to land! He took up an armful of brushwood, and, without taking
his eyes from the path, held it over the embers of his fire. He
waited, undecided, and saw something gleam amongst the bushes; then
a white figure came out of the shadows and seemed to float towards him
in the pale light. His heart gave a great leap and stood still,
then went on shaking his frame in furious beats. He dropped the
brushwood upon the glowing coals, and had an impression of shouting
her name—of rushing to meet her; yet he emitted no sound, he stirred
not an inch, but he stood silent and motionless like chiselled bronze
under the moonlight that streamed over his naked shoulders. As
he stood still, fighting with his breath, as if bereft of his senses
by the intensity of his delight, she walked up to him with quick, resolute
steps, and, with the appearance of one about to leap from a dangerous
height, threw both her arms round his neck with a sudden gesture.
A small blue gleam crept amongst the dry branches, and the crackling
of reviving fire was the only sound as they faced each other in the
speechless emotion of that meeting; then the dry fuel caught at once,
and a bright hot flame shot upwards in a blaze as high as their heads,
and in its light they saw each other’s eyes.</p>
<p>Neither of them spoke. He was regaining his senses in a slight
tremor that ran upwards along his rigid body and hung about his trembling
lips. She drew back her head and fastened her eyes on his in one
of those long looks that are a woman’s most terrible weapon; a
look that is more stirring than the closest touch, and more dangerous
than the thrust of a dagger, because it also whips the soul out of the
body, but leaves the body alive and helpless, to be swayed here and
there by the capricious tempests of passion and desire; a look that
enwraps the whole body, and that penetrates into the innermost recesses
of the being, bringing terrible defeat in the delirious uplifting of
accomplished conquest. It has the same meaning for the man of
the forests and the sea as for the man threading the paths of the more
dangerous wilderness of houses and streets. Men that had felt
in their breasts the awful exultation such a look awakens become mere
things of to-day—which is paradise; forget yesterday—which
was suffering; care not for to-morrow—which may be perdition.
They wish to live under that look for ever. It is the look of
woman’s surrender.</p>
<p>He understood, and, as if suddenly released from his invisible bonds,
fell at her feet with a shout of joy, and, embracing her knees, hid
his head in the folds of her dress, murmuring disjointed words of gratitude
and love. Never before had he felt so proud as now, when at the
feet of that woman that half belonged to his enemies. Her fingers
played with his hair in an absent-minded caress as she stood absorbed
in thought. The thing was done. Her mother was right.
The man was her slave. As she glanced down at his kneeling form
she felt a great pitying tenderness for that man she was used to call—even
in her thoughts—the master of life. She lifted her eyes
and looked sadly at the southern heavens under which lay the path of
their lives—her own, and that man’s at her feet. Did
he not say himself is that she was the light of his life? She
would be his light and his wisdom; she would be his greatness and his
strength; yet hidden from the eyes of all men she would be, above all,
his only and lasting weakness. A very woman! In the sublime
vanity of her kind she was thinking already of moulding a god from the
clay at her feet. A god for others to worship. She was content
to see him as he was now, and to feel him quiver at the slightest touch
of her light fingers. And while her eyes looked sadly at the southern
stars a faint smile seemed to be playing about her firm lips.
Who can tell in the fitful light of a camp fire? It might have
been a smile of triumph, or of conscious power, or of tender pity, or,
perhaps, of love.</p>
<p>She spoke softly to him, and he rose to his feet, putting his arm
round her in quiet consciousness of his ownership; she laid her head
on his shoulder with a sense of defiance to all the world in the encircling
protection of that arm. He was hers with all his qualities and
all his faults. His strength and his courage, his recklessness
and his daring, his simple wisdom and his savage cunning—all were
hers. As they passed together out of the red light of the fire
into the silver shower of rays that fell upon the clearing he bent his
head over her face, and she saw in his eyes the dreamy intoxication
of boundless felicity from the close touch of her slight figure clasped
to his side. With a rhythmical swing of their bodies they walked
through the light towards the outlying shadows of the forests that seemed
to guard their happiness in solemn immobility. Their forms melted
in the play of light and shadow at the foot of the big trees, but the
murmur of tender words lingered over the empty clearing, grew faint,
and died out. A sigh as of immense sorrow passed over the land
in the last effort of the dying breeze, and in the deep silence which
succeeded, the earth and the heavens were suddenly hushed up in the
mournful contemplation of human love and human blindness.</p>
<p>They walked slowly back to the fire. He made for her a seat
out of the dry branches, and, throwing himself down at her feet, lay
his head in her lap and gave himself up to the dreamy delight of the
passing hour. Their voices rose and fell, tender or animated as
they spoke of their love and of their future. She, with a few
skilful words spoken from time to time, guided his thoughts, and he
let his happiness flow in a stream of talk passionate and tender, grave
or menacing, according to the mood which she evoked. He spoke
to her of his own island, where the gloomy forests and the muddy rivers
were unknown. He spoke of its terraced fields, of the murmuring
clear rills of sparkling water that flowed down the sides of great mountains,
bringing life to the land and joy to its tillers. And he spoke
also of the mountain peak that rising lonely above the belt of trees
knew the secrets of the passing clouds, and was the dwelling-place of
the mysterious spirit of his race, of the guardian genius of his house.
He spoke of vast horizons swept by fierce winds that whistled high above
the summits of burning mountains. He spoke of his forefathers
that conquered ages ago the island of which he was to be the future
ruler. And then as, in her interest, she brought her face nearer
to his, he, touching lightly the thick tresses of her long hair, felt
a sudden impulse to speak to her of the sea he loved so well; and he
told her of its never-ceasing voice, to which he had listened as a child,
wondering at its hidden meaning that no living man has penetrated yet;
of its enchanting glitter; of its senseless and capricious fury; how
its surface was for ever changing, and yet always enticing, while its
depths were for ever the same, cold and cruel, and full of the wisdom
of destroyed life. He told her how it held men slaves of its charm
for a lifetime, and then, regardless of their devotion, swallowed them
up, angry at their fear of its mystery, which it would never disclose,
not even to those that loved it most. While he talked, Nina’s
head had been gradually sinking lower, and her face almost touched his
now. Her hair was over his eyes, her breath was on his forehead,
her arms were about his body. No two beings could be closer to
each other, yet she guessed rather than understood the meaning of his
last words that came out after a slight hesitation in a faint murmur,
dying out imperceptibly into a profound and significant silence:
“The sea, O Nina, is like a woman’s heart.”</p>
<p>She closed his lips with a sudden kiss, and answered in a steady
voice—</p>
<p>“But to the men that have no fear, O master of my life, the
sea is ever true.”</p>
<p>Over their heads a film of dark, thread-like clouds, looking like
immense cobwebs drifting under the stars, darkened the sky with the
presage of the coming thunderstorm. From the invisible hills the
first distant rumble of thunder came in a prolonged roll which, after
tossing about from hill to hill, lost itself in the forests of the Pantai.
Dain and Nina stood up, and the former looked at the sky uneasily.</p>
<p>“It is time for Babalatchi to be here,” he said.
“The night is more than half gone. Our road is long, and
a bullet travels quicker than the best canoe.”</p>
<p>“He will be here before the moon is hidden behind the clouds,”
said Nina. “I heard a splash in the water,” she added.
“Did you hear it too?”</p>
<p>“Alligator,” answered Dain shortly, with a careless glance
towards the creek. “The darker the night,” he continued,
“the shorter will be our road, for then we could keep in the current
of the main stream, but if it is light—even no more than now—we
must follow the small channels of sleeping water, with nothing to help
our paddles.”</p>
<p>“Dain,” interposed Nina, earnestly, “it was no
alligator. I heard the bushes rustling near the landing-place.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Dain, after listening awhile. “It
cannot be Babalatchi, who would come in a big war canoe, and openly.
Those that are coming, whoever they are, do not wish to make much noise.
But you have heard, and now I can see,” he went on quickly.
“It is but one man. Stand behind me, Nina. If he is
a friend he is welcome; if he is an enemy you shall see him die.”</p>
<p>He laid his hand on his kriss, and awaited the approach of his unexpected
visitor. The fire was burning very low, and small clouds—precursors
of the storm—crossed the face of the moon in rapid succession,
and their flying shadows darkened the clearing. He could not make
out who the man might be, but he felt uneasy at the steady advance of
the tall figure walking on the path with a heavy tread, and hailed it
with a command to stop. The man stopped at some little distance,
and Dain expected him to speak, but all he could hear was his deep breathing.
Through a break in the flying clouds a sudden and fleeting brightness
descended upon the clearing. Before the darkness closed in again,
Dain saw a hand holding some glittering object extended towards him,
heard Nina’s cry of “Father!” and in an instant the
girl was between him and Almayer’s revolver. Nina’s
loud cry woke up the echoes of the sleeping woods, and the three stood
still as if waiting for the return of silence before they would give
expression to their various feelings. At the appearance of Nina,
Almayer’s arm fell by his side, and he made a step forward.
Dain pushed the girl gently aside.</p>
<p>“Am I a wild beast that you should try to kill me suddenly
and in the dark, Tuan Almayer?” said Dain, breaking the strained
silence. “Throw some brushwood on the fire,” he went
on, speaking to Nina, “while I watch my white friend, lest harm
should come to you or to me, O delight of my heart!”</p>
<p>Almayer ground his teeth and raised his arm again. With a quick
bound Dain was at his side: there was a short scuffle, during which
one chamber of the revolver went off harmlessly, then the weapon, wrenched
out of Almayer’s hand, whirled through the air and fell in the
bushes. The two men stood close together, breathing hard.
The replenished fire threw out an unsteady circle of light and shone
on the terrified face of Nina, who looked at them with outstretched
hands.</p>
<p>“Dain!” she cried out warningly, “Dain!”</p>
<p>He waved his hand towards her in a reassuring gesture, and, turning
to Almayer, said with great courtesy—</p>
<p>“Now we may talk, Tuan. It is easy to send out death,
but can your wisdom recall the life? She might have been harmed,”
he continued, indicating Nina. “Your hand shook much; for
myself I was not afraid.”</p>
<p>“Nina!” exclaimed Almayer, “come to me at once.
What is this sudden madness? What bewitched you? Come to
your father, and together we shall try to forget this horrible nightmare!”</p>
<p>He opened his arms with the certitude of clasping her to his breast
in another second. She did not move. As it dawned upon him
that she did not mean to obey he felt a deadly cold creep into his heart,
and, pressing the palms of his hands to his temples, he looked down
on the ground in mute despair. Dain took Nina by the arm and led
her towards her father.</p>
<p>“Speak to him in the language of his people,” he said.
“He is grieving—as who would not grieve at losing thee,
my pearl! Speak to him the last words he shall hear spoken by
that voice, which must be very sweet to him, but is all my life to me.”</p>
<p>He released her, and, stepping back a few paces out of the circle
of light, stood in the darkness looking at them with calm interest.
The reflection of a distant flash of lightning lit up the clouds over
their heads, and was followed after a short interval by the faint rumble
of thunder, which mingled with Almayer’s voice as he began to
speak.</p>
<p>“Do you know what you are doing? Do you know what is
waiting for you if you follow that man? Have you no pity for yourself?
Do you know that you shall be at first his plaything and then a scorned
slave, a drudge, and a servant of some new fancy of that man?”</p>
<p>She raised her hand to stop him, and turning her head slightly, asked—</p>
<p>“You hear this Dain! Is it true?”</p>
<p>“By all the gods!” came the impassioned answer from the
darkness—“by heaven and earth, by my head and thine I swear:
this is a white man’s lie. I have delivered my soul into
your hands for ever; I breathe with your breath, I see with your eyes,
I think with your mind, and I take you into my heart for ever.”</p>
<p>“You thief!” shouted the exasperated Almayer.</p>
<p>A deep silence succeeded this outburst, then the voice of Dain was
heard again.</p>
<p>“Nay, Tuan,” he said in a gentle tone, “that is
not true also. The girl came of her own will. I have done
no more but to show her my love like a man; she heard the cry of my
heart, and she came, and the dowry I have given to the woman you call
your wife.”</p>
<p>Almayer groaned in his extremity of rage and shame. Nina laid
her hand lightly on his shoulder, and the contact, light as the touch
of a falling leaf, seemed to calm him. He spoke quickly, and in
English this time.</p>
<p>“Tell me,” he said—“tell me, what have they
done to you, your mother and that man? What made you give yourself
up to that savage? For he is a savage. Between him and you
there is a barrier that nothing can remove. I can see in your
eyes the look of those who commit suicide when they are mad. You
are mad. Don’t smile. It breaks my heart. If
I were to see you drowning before my eyes, and I without the power to
help you, I could not suffer a greater torment. Have you forgotten
the teaching of so many years?”</p>
<p>“No,” she interrupted, “I remember it well.
I remember how it ended also. Scorn for scorn, contempt for contempt,
hate for hate. I am not of your race. Between your people
and me there is also a barrier that nothing can remove. You ask
why I want to go, and I ask you why I should stay.”</p>
<p>He staggered as if struck in the face, but with a quick, unhesitating
grasp she caught him by the arm and steadied him.</p>
<p>“Why you should stay!” he repeated slowly, in a dazed
manner, and stopped short, astounded at the completeness of his misfortune.</p>
<p>“You told me yesterday,” she went on again, “that
I could not understand or see your love for me: it is so. How
can I? No two human beings understand each other. They can
understand but their own voices. You wanted me to dream your dreams,
to see your own visions—the visions of life amongst the white
faces of those who cast me out from their midst in angry contempt.
But while you spoke I listened to the voice of my own self; then this
man came, and all was still; there was only the murmur of his love.
You call him a savage! What do you call my mother, your wife?”</p>
<p>“Nina!” cried Almayer, “take your eyes off my face.”</p>
<p>She looked down directly, but continued speaking only a little above
a whisper.</p>
<p>“In time,” she went on, “both our voices, that
man’s and mine, spoke together in a sweetness that was intelligible
to our ears only. You were speaking of gold then, but our ears
were filled with the song of our love, and we did not hear you.
Then I found that we could see through each other’s eyes: that
he saw things that nobody but myself and he could see. We entered
a land where no one could follow us, and least of all you. Then
I began to live.”</p>
<p>She paused. Almayer sighed deeply. With her eyes still
fixed on the ground she began speaking again.</p>
<p>“And I mean to live. I mean to follow him. I have
been rejected with scorn by the white people, and now I am a Malay!
He took me in his arms, he laid his life at my feet. He is brave;
he will be powerful, and I hold his bravery and his strength in my hand,
and I shall make him great. His name shall be remembered long
after both our bodies are laid in the dust. I love you no less
than I did before, but I shall never leave him, for without him I cannot
live.”</p>
<p>“If he understood what you have said,” answered Almayer,
scornfully, “he must be highly flattered. You want him as
a tool for some incomprehensible ambition of yours. Enough, Nina.
If you do not go down at once to the creek, where Ali is waiting with
my canoe, I shall tell him to return to the settlement and bring the
Dutch officers here. You cannot escape from this clearing, for
I have cast adrift your canoe. If the Dutch catch this hero of
yours they will hang him as sure as I stand here. Now go.”</p>
<p>He made a step towards his daughter and laid hold of her by the shoulder,
his other hand pointing down the path to the landing-place.</p>
<p>“Beware!” exclaimed Dain; “this woman belongs to
me!”</p>
<p>Nina wrenched herself free and looked straight at Almayer’s
angry face.</p>
<p>“No, I will not go,” she said with desperate energy.
“If he dies I shall die too!”</p>
<p>“You die!” said Almayer, contemptuously. “Oh,
no! You shall live a life of lies and deception till some other
vagabond comes along to sing; how did you say that? The song of
love to you! Make up your mind quickly.”</p>
<p>He waited for a while, and then added meaningly—</p>
<p>“Shall I call out to Ali?”</p>
<p>“Call out,” she answered in Malay, “you that cannot
be true to your own countrymen. Only a few days ago you were selling
the powder for their destruction; now you want to give up to them the
man that yesterday you called your friend. Oh, Dain,” she
said, turning towards the motionless but attentive figure in the darkness,
“instead of bringing you life I bring you death, for he will betray
unless I leave you for ever!”</p>
<p>Dain came into the circle of light, and, throwing his arm around
Nina’s neck, whispered in her ear—“I can kill him
where he stands, before a sound can pass his lips. For you it
is to say yes or no. Babalatchi cannot be far now.”</p>
<p>He straightened himself up, taking his arm off her shoulder, and
confronted Almayer, who looked at them both with an expression of concentrated
fury.</p>
<p>“No!” she cried, clinging to Dain in wild alarm.
“No! Kill me! Then perhaps he will let you go.
You do not know the mind of a white man. He would rather see me
dead than standing where I am. Forgive me, your slave, but you
must not.” She fell at his feet sobbing violently and repeating,
“Kill me! Kill me!”</p>
<p>“I want you alive,” said Almayer, speaking also in Malay,
with sombre calmness. “You go, or he hangs. Will you
obey?”</p>
<p>Dain shook Nina off, and, making a sudden lunge, struck Almayer full
in the chest with the handle of his kriss, keeping the point towards
himself.</p>
<p>“Hai, look! It was easy for me to turn the point the
other way,” he said in his even voice. “Go, Tuan Putih,”
he added with dignity. “I give you your life, my life, and
her life. I am the slave of this woman’s desire, and she
wills it so.”</p>
<p>There was not a glimmer of light in the sky now, and the tops of
the trees were as invisible as their trunks, being lost in the mass
of clouds that hung low over the woods, the clearing, and the river.</p>
<p>Every outline had disappeared in the intense blackness that seemed
to have destroyed everything but space. Only the fire glimmered
like a star forgotten in this annihilation of all visible things, and
nothing was heard after Dain ceased speaking but the sobs of Nina, whom
he held in his arms, kneeling beside the fire. Almayer stood looking
down at them in gloomy thoughtfulness. As he was opening his lips
to speak they were startled by a cry of warning by the riverside, followed
by the splash of many paddles and the sound of voices.</p>
<p>“Babalatchi!” shouted Dain, lifting up Nina as he got
upon his feet quickly.</p>
<p>“Ada! Ada!” came the answer from the panting statesman
who ran up the path and stood amongst them. “Run to my canoe,”
he said to Dain excitedly, without taking any notice of Almayer.
“Run! we must go. That woman has told them all!”</p>
<p>“What woman?” asked Dain, looking at Nina. Just
then there was only one woman in the whole world for him.</p>
<p>“The she-dog with white teeth; the seven times accursed slave
of Bulangi. She yelled at Abdulla’s gate till she woke up
all Sambir. Now the white officers are coming, guided by her and
Reshid. If you want to live, do not look at me, but go!”</p>
<p>“How do you know this?” asked Almayer.</p>
<p>“Oh, Tuan! what matters how I know! I have only one eye,
but I saw lights in Abdulla’s house and in his campong as we were
paddling past. I have ears, and while we lay under the bank I
have heard the messengers sent out to the white men’s house.”</p>
<p>“Will you depart without that woman who is my daughter?”
said Almayer, addressing Dain, while Babalatchi stamped with impatience,
muttering, “Run! Run at once!”</p>
<p>“No,” answered Dain, steadily, “I will not go;
to no man will I abandon this woman.”</p>
<p>“Then kill me and escape yourself,” sobbed out Nina.</p>
<p>He clasped her close, looking at her tenderly, and whispered, “We
will never part, O Nina!”</p>
<p>“I shall not stay here any longer,” broke in Babalatchi,
angrily. “This is great foolishness. No woman is worth
a man’s life. I am an old man, and I know.”</p>
<p>He picked up his staff, and, turning to go, looked at Dain as if
offering him his last chance of escape. But Dain’s face
was hidden amongst Nina’s black tresses, and he did not see this
last appealing glance.</p>
<p>Babalatchi vanished in the darkness. Shortly after his disappearance
they heard the war canoe leave the landing-place in the swish of the
numerous paddles dipped in the water together. Almost at the same
time Ali came up from the riverside, two paddles on his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Our canoe is hidden up the creek, Tuan Almayer,” he
said, “in the dense bush where the forest comes down to the water.
I took it there because I heard from Babalatchi’s paddlers that
the white men are coming here.”</p>
<p>“Wait for me there,” said Almayer, “but keep the
canoe hidden.”</p>
<p>He remained silent, listening to Ali’s footsteps, then turned
to Nina.</p>
<p>“Nina,” he said sadly, “will you have no pity for
me?”</p>
<p>There was no answer. She did not even turn her head, which
was pressed close to Dain’s breast.</p>
<p>He made a movement as if to leave them and stopped. By the
dim glow of the burning-out fire he saw their two motionless figures.
The woman’s back turned to him with the long black hair streaming
down over the white dress, and Dain’s calm face looking at him
above her head.</p>
<p>“I cannot,” he muttered to himself. After a long
pause he spoke again a little lower, but in an unsteady voice, “It
would be too great a disgrace. I am a white man.”
He broke down completely there, and went on tearfully, “I am a
white man, and of good family. Very good family,” he repeated,
weeping bitterly. “It would be a disgrace . . . all over
the islands, . . . the only white man on the east coast. No, it
cannot be . . . white men finding my daughter with this Malay.
My daughter!” he cried aloud, with a ring of despair in his voice.</p>
<p>He recovered his composure after a while and said distinctly—</p>
<p>“I will never forgive you, Nina—never! If you were
to come back to me now, the memory of this night would poison all my
life. I shall try to forget. I have no daughter. There
used to be a half-caste woman in my house, but she is going even now.
You, Dain, or whatever your name may be, I shall take you and that woman
to the island at the mouth of the river myself. Come with me.”</p>
<p>He led the way, following the bank as far as the forest. Ali
answered to his call, and, pushing their way through the dense bush,
they stepped into the canoe hidden under the overhanging branches.
Dain laid Nina in the bottom, and sat holding her head on his knees.
Almayer and Ali each took up a paddle. As they were going to push
out Ali hissed warningly. All listened.</p>
<p>In the great stillness before the bursting out of the thunderstorm
they could hear the sound of oars working regularly in their row-locks.
The sound approached steadily, and Dain, looking through the branches,
could see the faint shape of a big white boat. A woman’s
voice said in a cautious tone—</p>
<p>“There is the place where you may land white men; a little
higher—there!”</p>
<p>The boat was passing them so close in the narrow creek that the blades
of the long oars nearly touched the canoe.</p>
<p>“Way enough! Stand by to jump on shore! He is alone
and unarmed,” was the quiet order in a man’s voice, and
in Dutch.</p>
<p>Somebody else whispered: “I think I can see a glimmer of a
fire through the bush.” And then the boat floated past them,
disappearing instantly in the darkness.</p>
<p>“Now,” whispered Ali, eagerly, “let us push out
and paddle away.”</p>
<p>The little canoe swung into the stream, and as it sprung forward
in response to the vigorous dig of the paddles they could hear an angry
shout.</p>
<p>“He is not by the fire. Spread out, men, and search for
him!”</p>
<p>Blue lights blazed out in different parts of the clearing, and the
shrill voice of a woman cried in accents of rage and pain—</p>
<p>“Too late! O senseless white men! He has escaped!”</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.