A strong voice shouted in the doorway without any ceremony and with a
sort of jeering accent:
"Tengga's boats are out in the mist."
Lingard half rose from his seat, Belarab himself could not repress a
start. Lingard's attitude was a listening one, but after a moment
of hesitation he ran out of the hall. The inside of the stockade was
beginning to buzz like a disturbed hive.
Outside Belarab's house Lingard slowed his pace. The mist still hung. A
great sustained murmur pervaded it and the blurred forms of men were all
moving outward from the centre toward the palisades. Somewhere amongst
the buildings a gong clanged. D'Alcacer's raised voice was heard:
"What is happening?"
Lingard was passing then close to the prisoners' house. There was a
group of armed men below the verandah and above their heads he saw Mrs.
Travers by the side of d'Alcacer. The fire by which Lingard had spent
the night was extinguished, its embers scattered, and the bench itself
lay overturned. Mrs. Travers must have run up on the verandah at the
first alarm. She and d'Alcacer up there seemed to dominate the tumult
which was now subsiding. Lingard noticed the scarf across Mrs. Travers'
face. D'Alcacer was bareheaded. He shouted again:
"What's the matter?"
"I am going to see," shouted Lingard back.
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