He resisted the impulse to join those two, dominate the tumult, let it
roll away from under his feet--the mere life of men, vain like a dream
and interfering with the tremendous sense of his own existence.
He resisted it, he could hardly have told why. Even the sense of
self-preservation had abandoned him. There was a throng of people
pressing close about him yet careful not to get in his way. Surprise,
concern, doubt were depicted on all those faces; but there were some who
observed that the great white man making his way to the lagoon side of
the stockade wore a fixed smile. He asked at large:
"Can one see any distance over the water?"
One of Belarab's headmen who was nearest to him answered:
"The mist has thickened. If you see anything, Tuan, it will be but a
shadow of things."
The four sides of the stockade had been manned by that time. Lingard,
ascending the banquette, looked out and saw the lagoon shrouded in
white, without as much as a shadow on it, and so still that not even the
sound of water lapping the shore reached his ears. He found himself in
profound accord with this blind and soundless peace.
"Has anything at all been seen?" he asked incredulously.
Four men were produced at once who had seen a dark mass of boats moving
in the light of the dawn.
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