Before the silence of Jorgenson Jaffir began to talk
practically. Now that Tengga had thrown off the mask Jaffir did not
think that he could land on the beach without being attacked, captured,
nay killed, since a man like he, though he could save himself by taking
flight at the order of his master, could not be expected to surrender
without a fight. He mentioned that in the exercise of his important
functions he knew how to glide like a shadow, creep like a snake, and
almost burrow his way underground. He was Jaffir who had never been
foiled. No bog, morass, great river or jungle could stop him. He would
have welcomed them. In many respects they were the friends of a crafty
messenger. But that was an open beach, and there was no other way, and
as things stood now every bush around, every tree trunk, every deep
shadow of house or fence would conceal Tengga's men or such of Daman's
infuriated partisans as had already made their way to the Settlement.
How could he hope to traverse the distance between the water's edge
and Belarab's gate which now would remain shut night and day? Not only
himself but anybody from the Emma would be sure to be rushed upon and
speared in twenty places.
He reflected for a moment in silence.
"Even you, Tuan, could not accomplish the feat."
"True," muttered Jorgenson.
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