His
gaunt figure wavered in the unsteady moonshine as though made of mist.
"Yes. He broke some trade regulation or other and talked big about
law-courts and legal trials to the lieutenant of the Komet. 'Certainly,'
says the hound. 'Jurisdiction of Macassar, I will take your schooner
there.' Then coming into the roads he tows her full tilt on a ledge of
rocks on the north side--smash! When she was half full of water he takes
his hat off to Dawson. 'There's the shore,' says he--'go and get your
legal trial, you--Englishman--'" He lifted a long arm and shook his fist
at the moon which dodged suddenly behind a cloud. "All was lost. Poor
Dawson walked the streets for months barefooted and in rags. Then one
day he begged a knife from some charitable soul, went down to take a
last look at the wreck, and--"
"I don't interfere with the Dutch," interrupted Lingard, impatiently. "I
want Hassim to get back his own--"
"And suppose the Dutch want the things just so," returned Jorgenson.
"Anyway there is a devil in such work--drop it!"
"Look here," said Lingard, "I took these people off when they were in
their last ditch. That means something. I ought not to have meddled and
it would have been all over in a few hours. I must have meant something
when I interfered, whether I knew it or not.
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