When told that he would be required to go and find his master and
the lady Immada who were somewhere in the back country, in Belarab's
travelling camp, he declared himself ready to proceed at once. He had
eaten his fill and had slept three hours on board the brig and he was
not tired. When he was young he used to get tired sometimes; but for
many years now he had known no such weakness. He did not require the
boat with paddlers in which he had come up into the lagoon. He would go
alone in a small canoe. This was no time, he remarked, for publicity and
ostentation. His pent-up anxiety burst through his lips. "It is in my
mind, Tuan, that death has not been so near them since that night when
you came sailing in a black cloud and took us all out of the stockade."
Lingard said nothing but there was in Jaffir a faith in that white man
which was not easily shaken.
"How are you going to save them this time, O Rajah Laut?" he asked,
simply.
"Belarab is my friend," murmured Lingard.
In his anxiety Jaffir was very outspoken. "A man of peace!" he exclaimed
in a low tone. "Who could be safe with a man like that?" he asked,
contemptuously.
"There is no war," said Lingard
"There is suspicion, dread, and revenge, and the anger of armed men,"
retorted Jaffir. "You have taken the white prisoners out of their hands
by the force of your words alone.
Pages:
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399