"She is with Don Martin, who is
better but feels very weak. If we are to be given up, he will have to
be carried out to his fate. I can depict to myself the scene. Don Martin
carried shoulder high surrounded by those barbarians with spears, and
Mrs. Travers with myself walking on each side of the stretcher. Mrs.
Travers has declared to me her intention to go out with us."
"Oh, she has declared her intention," murmured Lingard, absent-mindedly.
D'Alcacer felt himself completely abandoned by that man. And within
two paces of him he noticed the group of Belarab and his three swarthy
attendants in their white robes, preserving an air of serene detachment.
For the first time since the stranding on the coast d'Alcacer's heart
sank within him. "But perhaps," he went on, "this Moor may not in the
end insist on giving us up to a cruel death, Captain Lingard."
"He wanted to give you up in the middle of the night, a few hours ago,"
said Lingard, without even looking at d'Alcacer who raised his hands
a little and let them fall. Lingard sat down on the breech of a heavy
piece mounted on a naval carriage so as to command the lagoon. He folded
his arms on his breast. D'Alcacer asked, gently:
"We have been reprieved then?"
"No," said Lingard. "It's I who was reprieved."
A long silence followed.
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