At last he found himself on the left bank of the creek.
And still he felt life stir in him. So he started to swim across, for if
you were in this world you were on the other side. While he swam he felt
his strength abandoning him. He managed to scramble on to a drifting log
and lay on it like one who is dead, till we pulled him into one of our
boats."
Wasub ceased. It seemed to Lingard that it was impossible for mortal
man to suffer more than he suffered in the succeeding moment of silence
crowded by the mute images as of universal destruction. He felt
himself gone to pieces as though the violent expression of Jorgenson's
intolerable mistrust of the life of men had shattered his soul, leaving
his body robbed of all power of resistance and of all fortitude, a prey
forever to infinite remorse and endless regrets.
"Leave me, Wasub," he said. "They are all dead--but I would sleep."
Wasub raised his dumb old eyes to the white man's face.
"Tuan, it is necessary that you should hear Jaffir," he said, patiently.
"Is he going to die?" asked Lingard in a low, cautious tone as though he
were afraid of the sound of his own voice.
"Who can tell?" Wasub's voice sounded more patient than ever. "There is
no wound on his body but, O Tuan, he does not wish to live."
"Abandoned by his God," muttered Lingard to himself.
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