Later Tengga's houses were
set on fire and Belarab, mounting a fiery pony, issued forth to make a
triumphal progress surrounded by a great crowd of headmen and guards.
That night the white people left the stockade in a cortege of torch
bearers. Mr. Travers had to be carried down to the beach, where two of
Belarab's war-boats awaited their distinguished passengers. Mrs. Travers
passed through the gate on d'Alcacer's arm. Her face was half veiled.
She moved through the throng of spectators displayed in the torchlight
looking straight before her. Belarab, standing in front of a group of
headmen, pretended not to see the white people as they went by. With
Lingard he shook hands, murmuring the usual formulas of friendship; and
when he heard the great white man say, "You shall never see me again,"
he felt immensely relieved. Belarab did not want to see that white man
again, but as he responded to the pressure of Lingard's hand he had a
grave smile.
"God alone knows the future," he said.
Lingard walked to the beach by himself, feeling a stranger to all men
and abandoned by the All-Knowing God. By that time the first boat with
Mr. and Mrs. Travers had already got away out of the blood-red light
thrown by the torches upon the water. D'Alcacer and Lingard followed
in the second.
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