Their coming at this moment,
when he had wandered beyond that circle which race, memories, early
associations, all the essential conditions of one's origin, trace round
every man's life, deprived him in a manner of the power of speech. He
was confounded. It was like meeting exacting spectres in a desert.
He stared at the open sea, his arms crossed, with a reflective
fierceness. His very appearance made him utterly different from everyone
on board that vessel. The grey shirt, the blue sash, one rolled-up
sleeve baring a sculptural forearm, the negligent masterfulness of his
tone and pose were very distasteful to Mr. Travers, who, having made
up his mind to wait for some kind of official assistance, regarded
the intrusion of that inexplicable man with suspicion. From the moment
Lingard came on board the yacht, every eye in that vessel had been fixed
upon him. Only Carter, within earshot and leaning with his elbow upon
the rail, stared down at the deck as if overcome with drowsiness or lost
in thought.
Of the three other persons aft, Mr. Travers kept his hands in the side
pockets of his jacket and did not conceal his growing disgust.
On the other side of the deck, a lady, in a long chair, had a passive
attitude that to Mr. d'Alcacer, standing near her, seemed characteristic
of the manner in which she accepted the necessities of existence.
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