"You go down into the pantry, where you belong, Skipper, and read that
bit about the natives over again," he said to his superior officer, with
savage contempt. "I'll be hanged if some of them ain't coming aboard now
to eat you--book and all. Get out of the way, and let the gentlemen have
the first chance of a row."
Then addressing Lingard, he drawled in his old way:
"That crazy mate of yours has sent your boat back, with a couple of
visitors in her, too."
Before he apprehended plainly the meaning of these words, Lingard caught
sight of two heads rising above the rail, the head of Hassim and the
head of Immada. Then their bodies ascended into view as though these two
beings had gradually emerged from the Shallows. They stood for a moment
on the platform looking down on the deck as if about to step into the
unknown, then descended and walking aft entered the half-light under the
awning shading the luxurious surroundings, the complicated emotions of
the, to them, inconceivable existences.
Lingard without waiting a moment cried:
"What news, O Rajah?"
Hassim's eyes made the round of the schooner's decks. He had left his
gun in the boat and advanced empty handed, with a tranquil assurance as
if bearing a welcome offering in the faint smile of his lips. Immada,
half hidden behind his shoulder, followed lightly, her elbows pressed
close to her side.
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