Presently the dark shade of the creek, walled in by the
impenetrable forest, closed round them and the splash of the paddles
echoed in the still, damp air.
"How do you think this awful accident happened?" asked d'Alcacer, who
had been sitting silent by Lingard's side.
"What is an accident?" said Lingard with a great effort. "Where did you
hear of such a thing? Accident! Don't disturb me, Mr. d'Alcacer. I have
just come back to life and it has closed on me colder and darker than
the grave itself. Let me get used . . . I can't bear the sound of a
human voice yet."
VIII
And now, stoical in the cold and darkness of his regained life, Lingard
had to listen to the voice of Wasub telling him Jaffir's story. The
old serang's face expressed a profound dejection and there was infinite
sadness in the flowing murmur of his words.
"Yes, by Allah! They were all there: that tyrannical Tengga, noisy
like a fool; the Rajah Hassim, a ruler without a country; Daman, the
wandering chief, and the three Pangerans of the sea-robbers. They came
on board boldly, for Tuan Jorgenson had given them permission, and their
talk was that you, Tuan, were a willing captive in Belarab's stockade.
They said they had waited all night for a message of peace from you or
from Belarab. But there was nothing, and with the first sign of day they
put out on the lagoon to make friends with Tuan Jorgenson; for, they
said, you, Tuan, were as if you had not been, possessing no more power
than a dead man, the mere slave of these strange white people, and
Belarab's prisoner.
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